# The Age of Worms - Morrus' Campaign - Finished 6th August!!



## Eccles

SPOILER WARNING:  As if being called an “Age of Worms” Story Hour wasn’t obvious enough, this is likely to give away a few bits of the ‘Age of Worms’ campaign. I don’t know what those bits are yet. I’m just playing in the campaign…

The Campaign makes its start in Diamond Lake, a two-bit mining town filled with lowlife scum, competing mining overseers, corrupt officials and guardsmen, pollution and scummy taverns. I think we fit into the ‘lowlife scum’ category at the moment. We’re a group of likely lads from the town out for ourselves, and looking to get out of the town itself.

I’m Evan the Raconteur (Brd1). I’ve lived in Diamond Lake for as long as I can remember, and there’s little to say about that. I’ve traded stories with all the passers-by and traders who’ve come through the town, and now make a living by touring the bars, living off my tales and my wits. The rapier’s really just an affectation – people think twice about attacking an armed man.

People think twice about attacking Morgan Sevestarian (Wiz1 – Necromancy Specialist). Not because he’s armed, but because he’s spooky. You remember the creepy kid that you hung out with because you were always a bit scared of his parents? That’s Morgan. He’s taken after his mother now and is working towards being a really weird piece of work. He carries a crossbow; every time I’ve ever seen him use it in the past he’s managed to hit his target, which is strange, as I’ve never ever seen him practice. He must just be lucky. Or it could be magic, I suppose.

My other magical companion is Torvig (Clr1 - Fharlanghn). Besides being a Dwarf, he’s one of the town’s few healers, prepared to heal anybody who comes to him, which is more than you can say for other clerics in town, who only heal their own followers. He came to town a few years ago in the company of another dwarf, and since then the two have left their armour to rust – Torvig’s armour through lack of use, and his mate's has been pawned to raise ale money.

Then there’s Flynn the Elf (Rog1). What can you say about Flynn? He’s quite the stereotype of what you know about elves in some respects – he’s tall, quick and nimble, and a superb shot with the bow. What you don’t often get to say about elves is that he doesn’t hang out in a forest, and really likes gold. A lot. Though we’ve argued about this in the past, we stick together, mostly ‘cause he’s inquisitive, and his instincts have gotten us out of nearly as many scrapes as his impulses have gotten us into.

Finally, there’s the most recent addition to our little drinking group; Niccoli the warrior (Ftr1), strong and athletic, skilled with the bastard sword and bow. A handy guy to have by your side in a fight, which I guess is why Niccoli was hired some time ago by the Diamond Lake garrison to help do whatever it is they do right the way out of town. 

Our story starts, in the way of so many tales before it, in the tavern. In our case, this was the Dog – we try to meet up every week to hang out and down a few jars. I tell a few tales and earn a couple of pennies, the others play darts, and we all talk about what we’re going to do when we get out of town and head for the big city. 
This week, we had something else to talk about. Adventure! Or rather, the trio of honest to Gods adventurers who’d come to town, asking about the Cairn, clearly seeking to do some adventuring there, and go treasure hunting. The place they were asking about was close to town, and we all figured they meant the Whispering Cairn, across the lake which we all visited as kids – never daring to go beyond the entrance. 

The bar was packed with beery miners, and my few tales netted me a few coppers and a beer. Whilst I had my back turned, Flynn managed to insult one of the visiting adventurers and challenged her in the same sentence to a knife-throwing match for money he didn’t even have. 

He did well, to be honest. Managed to hold his own until the last blade went off-target and earned back a little grudging respect from the warrior-woman. She then started asking questions about the Cairn. Morgan and I did our best to warn them of the series of “hidden doors” lying around what we knew well to be an empty and long-abandoned mine-shaft, then we all left the bar, a little the worse for wear, and hugely entertained by our story to the adventurer in the bar.

It was about then that Torvig made the suggestion that would change everything.

“Why don’t we do it? We know where we’re going, it’s just out of town”.
“Do what?” Morgan was still finishing his beer and wasn’t completely paying attention.
“Raid the Whispering Cairn. We’ve even been there a few years ago. To the door, anyway”.
“Yeah,” agreed Flynn. “And any loot that those guys would be looking for should stay with Diamond Lake folk. Like us”.

It didn’t take long for 5 young men after a few cups to become the greatest adventuring party that ever lived – at least in our own minds.

We separated for a while, returning to meet once we’d gathered as much kit as possible. I managed to belt on a sword and grab the small bow I used when I was younger; but I was thoroughly outclassed by Torvig’s heavy armour, Flynn’s masses of kit, and Niccoli’s full military kit including scale armour. I’m sure I would’ve got nervous but for the ale still running through my system. It seems like the same could be said for the others, as we ran, grinning, towards the docks and the promise of riches beyond…


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## Eccles

The local boatman was quickly paid (and offered the last of our beer) to row us across the lake, so keen were we to get started, and it was very soon that we stood listening to the strange whistling of the breeze blowing out of the dark cave-mouth.

Inside, the whistling condensed to the same spooky whispering noise which we remembered from visiting the cave as children, trying to dare one another to enter beyond the merest lip of the cavern. This time, as grown men, fuelled by the weapons at our belts and the alcohol warming our bellies, we were ready to step further inside. 

In a few short paces, we were past the first chamber, names scratched on the walls by generations long forgotten fell behind us. Almost immediately we entered a corridor which was almost entirely untouched, marked as unusual only by the black glass of a broken mirror to our left. We stopped to scrutinise this, listen to the almost voice-like qualities of the wind as it rushed past us, and to sniff the air and recognise the smell of damp fur.

The mirror was marked with a glyph which I recognised from the epic tale “Icosiel’s Urn”, which in turn gave made me realise that the other marks around the edge of the mirror were other Wind Dukes; the original makers of the legendary “Rod of 7 Parts”. Meanwhile, Morgan paused to listen to the wind, swearing blind that is was singing to him in Auran, although the only words he could make out were “hopeless… sacrilege… enemies…” – hardly an auspicious start to our dungeon delving!

Further down the tunnel, we realised that it was not as dark as could be expected – there was an eery green twinkling of light, which we began to edge towards again, moving into a large well-painted chamber. We all clustered around a raised dais, inspecting the first throne we had ever seen before, before we heard the clicking of talons on stone, and turned to see three large, damp, shaggy wolves coming out from behind a pile of rubble, snarling at us.

The fight was short and bloody. Arrows flew, hammer and bastard sword flashed, and dark miasmatic energies lanced at the enemies. The weaker 2 wolves were swiftly brought low, whilst the third (under the baleful influence of Morgan’s spell of terror) ran and cowered in one corner. The group clustered around it, and the snarling, snapping beast was slain.

Searching the now bloodstained wolf-lair revealed a few coins and a strange item – an indigo gem-like lantern. We moved on down the steps towards the green glow, chill seeping into our bones as the alcohol slowly wore off. Wolves had tried to kill us; this was serious, and we were real adventurers now!


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## Eccles

Down the stairs, we found ourselves in a large room with 7 short passages leading to dark lanterns hanging from chains, each a different colour. The indigo and red lanterns both missing, whilst a flame in the green lantern lit the entire room in a ghastly green flickering light. In the centre of the chamber was a large stone sarcophagus, balanced to allow it to turn. The statue (of the air Duke Zosiel) on the top of the sarcophagus (missing a finger) pointed towards the orange lantern. 

Gleefully, we realised that the torch in the green lantern was covered in dust, and wasn’t actually burned down. Somehow, someone had abandoned a fantastic magical torch down here! 

After a short discussion, fuel oil and torches were used to light the other coloured lanterns. Nothing whatsoever happened. We clambered all around the chamber, trying to find what we may have missed (apart from the still-absent red lantern), and Flynn noticed a small tunnel high up on one of the walls.

Owing to armour and lack of natural climbing talent, we spent a long time knotting ropes before scaling the 40 feet up into a tiny cramped tunnel. Flynn scaled up smartly, and the others of us struggled our way up. No sooner had we arrived, and registered the short tunnel ending in a large face-shaped wall, than Flynn had rushed towards it – an ominous ‘click’ coming from the floor when he was halfway up. The stone face twisted, pursed its lips, and began to blow…

We fled – most of us for the rope, Flynn ran past the face and hugged the wall away from the breath, which grew in force as we were flung out of the narrow tunnel, grabbing for the rope and scrambling down. Niccoli, then Torvig, then I in turn all grabbed at the rope and clung just below the lip. We hung there as the wind overhead grew to gale-force before, like a cork from a bottle, Morgan the dark wizard came flying, screaming, out over our heads and began to hurtle downwards.

Staring, aghast, the three of us on the rope grabbed at him, hands gripping at the flying cloak or hood. I gripped at his outstretched hands, and his fingers slipped through mine. Below me, Torvig grabbed out at the tumbling wizard, grabbing him by the heel of one boot. The boot fell off, and plunged 40 feet to the floor. 

Finally, Niccoli managed to grab Morgan by the belt and swing him to the rope, which Morgan was able to grab onto before it was all too late. Breathing heavily, we gingerly climbed down to the floor, and watched the tunnel mouth for Flynn.

Over the course of several minutes, Flynn’s cloak and other items hurtled out, testament to Flynn’s efforts to ‘cork’ the blast of wind, before the wind faded and Flynn walked out – setting off the same trap. He ran, growing wind at his back, leapt out of the tunnel and grabbed at the lantern chain, snatched it, and scrambled down nimbly.


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## Eccles

We returned to the sarcophagus and decided to have a sit down. It was then, leaning against the heavy stone box, that we noticed it rocking… It was designed to move on its base!

We leant swiftly to the task, and the huge stone box was moved around to point at the yellow lantern. A grinding noise filled the room, and a stone pillar rose out from below the yellow light. More grinding as a door opened in the pillar, revealing a space large enough for a single man. We looked at it, and one another, for a while, before Niccoli stepped into the pillar. The door snapped shut, and the whole thing, Niccoli and all, vanished into the floor. 

“What do we do?” Panic set in immediately. “Turn the sarcophagus?”
“No! We could lock him wherever he is!”
“But it might be the only way to get him out!”
“We wait,” declared Torvig. “If he can’t get back in 5 minutes, we turn the sarcophagus and try to get him out.”

5 minutes passed, and then another 5. Still no Niccoli, or stone pillar. Reluctantly, we turned the sarcophagus again, this time to the green light. Another grinding noise, which became a grating, shaking noise followed by an ominous “CRUNCH”, and then silence.

The blue lantern came next – and another stone pillar slid open. This one stank, and was coated with a thin layer of crushed flesh. We looked at one another, and said nothing, thinking of Niccoli. Nobody stepped into the pillar, and we went back to the sarcophagus.

Just as we were pushing the sarcophagus on to Indigo, the pillar under the yellow light rose again, and out stepped Niccoli, completely unscathed.

Before he could answer any of our questions, the floor under the green lantern gave out another grinding noise, and bulged, before splitting open. Before our terrified eyes, a swarm of tiny beetles surged out trailing a burning acrid acid, followed by a strange multi-limbed monstrosity. Bows sang, flames and oil arced through the air, hammer and sword swang. I began an encouraging chant of victory, whilst Morgan’s chant sent a terrifying eldritch ray of heinous-looking, rank-smelling evil straight into the largest monster, sapping its strength before it could bring down Torvig – the stout dwarf was brought to his knees by a vicious series of attacks from the 4 armed creature. Life spilling from his many wounds, he prayed briefly before stumbling backwards as Morgan’s crossbow twanged once again, spelling an end to the combat.

Exhausted, we fled to the small ruined building a short distance to rest.


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## Eccles

The next morning, cold and slightly hung over, we returned to the Whispering Cairn. It looked gloomier and far less inviting than it had the previous night, and there was a bit of an argument over whether we should go back in. Treasure won out, and we decided to go through the hole under the green lantern and see where the bugs had come from. 

There was indeed another network of caves and rooms below. In one room lay a corpse atop a stone bier in a room whose central feature was a statue which gave out waves of a strange, sapping energy. Morgan muttered something about gaining ‘spirit sight’, and it then surprised none of us when he announced that the statue was magical.

Having fought off a giant bug, Flynn insisted on stripping the dessicated corpse of its red leather armour. The armour itself was salvageable, and was marked with the crest of the ‘Seekers’, a group of tomb robbers who operated out of Greyhawk about 50 years ago. 

The next room contained a gunge-covered fountain. And bugs. Lots and lots of creeping, crawling, acid-secreting bugs. Thousands of the little swines rushed us, whilst a single massive bug lumbered towards us vomiting forth fire. We pulled back, laying down a hail of stones, arrows and fiery oil-flasks before it was safe to approach and let Torvig finish off the swarm. 

The last room at the end of the corridor was down a set of steps. And was totally immersed in water. This caused us a considerable problem, which Flynn circumnavigated by tying a rope around his waist and diving into the pitch-black water. Whilst most of us stood there aghast at his impulsiveness, Morgan was quick to follow him. He dropped his pack and dived into the water at the foot of the steps. 

Whilst we spooled out the rope to allow Flynn safe transit through the water, we were treated to the sight of a splashing, spluttering Morgan trying to make any headway at all through the water. It quickly became apparent that he simply didn’t know how to swim – by the time Flynn had gone 30 feet, Morgan was still figuring out basic doggy-paddle.

Then the rope jerked once, twice, and went still. We hauled in fast, 3 of us running back up the corridor towing the rope and dragging a soaked and heavily bloodstained Flynn out of the water. Initial fears that his skull had been crushed were false, as Torvig cast his almost his entire day’s allotment of spells on the elf, restoring him to an almost fully-healthy state. 

Once healed, Flynn made every sign of jumping back in immediately, a plan which Torvig and I thought was foolhardy to say the least, but we clearly lost the argument when he dived back into the water, swam 25 feet before pulling frantically on the rope to get back out again. We towed him out (still conscious this time), and then had a brief argument as to how foolish it would be to go back into the water a third time.

“But we can beat it,” stated Flynn confidently. “It’s not a very big thing.”
“Not a very big WHAT?” Torvig and I demanded in duet. “What does it look like, apart from being able to stave your skull in?”
“I don’t know – I couldn’t really see anything in there. It just looked like the water was trying to hit me.”
“An elemental?” Morgan spoke briefly. “Fascinating. I’ve never seen one in its natural state. Mind you, mother and I tend to study rather more… mortal concerns.”
“Wait – a water elemental, which can breath underwater and swim properly? Forget it.” – I was liking this plan less and less.
“Yeah, but there’s bound to be something pretty tasty down there.” Flynn must have seen something during his conscious periods. “Maybe if we just held our breath and all went in…”
“Not safe. I’m wearing full armour, and so’s Niccoli. Neither of us can swim, and who’d pull us back out if something went wrong?”
“Who’s talking about swimming? I reckon if we all just go in and walk along the bottom…”

It took a while to experiment, but the plan seemed to work, somehow. Carrying heavy armour or with pockets filled with stones, the others went back into the water and slugged their way along the bottom of the water-filled room. I stayed at the top to light a fire and hold the four ropes which they were trailing. I gave them a brief encouraging speech, and then they slipped into the water, taking the ever-lasting torch with them. From my end, the ropes payed out for a little while, then there was some twitching, then the four returned unscathed.

Dozens of other trips were necessary to properly scout out the water-filled room, apparently Torvig dispatching some form of undead with only the assistance of his God’s might and Niccoli’s sword-arm whilst they were down there. On the last trip, Flynn resurfaced clutching his prize – the red lantern.


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## Eccles

We returned to the room above, and lit the red lantern. Once in place, there was a whooshing noise from above the indigo lantern, where the wind-blowing head had nearly killed several of us the previous day. Emboldened by our successes, we climbed back up, and looked around, to see that the face at the end of the corridor had disappeared. The corridor now led into a strange room.

The room itself was part-filled with a massive number of iron balls, each about the size of an apple. Above them was a 3 foot wide walkway, from where we stood to a door on the other side. The walls on either side were covered in a strange honeycomb pattern. Flynn was the first to leap into action and dash across the walkway for the temptation of the door opposite.

He was no more than halfway across when a rumbling noise came from the wall to our right, and a hail of metal globes hurtled out of the hexagonal shapes, hurtling past him and slamming into the opposite wall before falling to join their fellows beneath us. Flynn stopped moving and looked around, muttering something about ‘trigger plates’ and ‘ratchet-switches’, before fishing out a small set of tools and using them to… well, to set the trap off a second time. 

This time, the hail of metal balls slammed straight into him, breaking several ribs and re-opening the head wound from the water room. The last of Torvig’s spells were poured into him to set him properly back onto his feet, before he and Niccoli (shielding both of them with the large steel shield he carries) returned to the walkway. 

His misadventures from earlier had clearly taught him something, as he was able to disarm the trap swiftly and efficiently. His triumphant announcement was drowned out by a giggling noise, before a spectral voice announced to the room,

“I thought you’d be goners there.”
“Who’s there?” Flynn’s hand shot to his weapons as he looked around him trying to spot the source of the voice. 
To all of our horror, a ghostly and translucent young boy materialised, hanging in the air. His head lolled to one side, neck clearly snapped – he looked like he was hanging from an invisible rope. 

Morgan and I recognised the boy from his description at the same time – Alastor Land, lost some 60 years ago whilst entering the Whispering Cairn on a dare like so many other children before us. Bravely, Morgan spoke to the spirit,

“Alastor?”
“You… You know my name?”
“Of course. You went missing years ago. What happened?”
“It’s my punishment. The trap kills people. Adventurers mostly. I fell here.”
“Lad,” Torvig spoke up. “Would you wish us to give your remains a proper burial?”

Alastor gazed at us in longing at this suggestion. “Yes! Please bury my remains. You see this door? I can go through it.” He demonstrated, passing his whole arm through the solid door surface in a way which made my spine crawl. “I’ll open the door if you bury my bones with my family.”

As Alastor directed us to the place under the metal globes where his body lay, he had one more helpful word for us. “There’s a creature there. Longer than you are tall. It’s greeny yellow, and has tentacles for a face. Oh, and it kills adventurers and drags the bodies to its lair to eat them.”

Niccoli and Flynn, who’d jumped down and started digging, suddenly went pale. Their colour didn’t improve when the huge green slug-like body of a grick pushed its way clear of the metal globes and attacked. And none of us were smiling when our blows simply bounced off it, it lashed Niccoli brutally with its tentacles, nearly bringing him to his knees, and finally Morgan chanted and pointed at the monster, sending a torrent of smoky spirits hurtling at the monster. Once clustered around it, they latched onto cuts and abrasions and tried to worsen its wounds by pulling them open.

His second spell was just as disconcerting, the same dark eldritch ray which seemed to pull something out of the monster-slug; still, practically all our blows seemed to simply bounce off the thing, leaving only the tiniest few scratches in its thick slimy skin. 

Starting a chant of encouragement, I leapt down to join the others, standing behind Niccoli and infusing him with a spell of health, mimicking actions I had seen Torvig doing when healing the others. I then drew my sword reluctantly and stepped forward.

Spear, sword and rapiers flew, and finally… finally, only when Morgan unlimbered and fired his crossbow, the slimy beast fell. The tiny bones were recovered (along with a few handfuls of gold we found whilst digging), and we clambered back onto the walkway. Carrying the body, we left the complex and headed for Town, bickering amongst ourselves as to whether Morgan was a necromancer, or merely (as he maintained) an extremely spooky and sinister mage.


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## Eccles

After actually managing to lift a few ales with our tired arms, we rested for the night, and headed to Alastor’s family farm, where he had told us the bodies were buried. To our absolute horror, we found the gravestones, only to see that they had been dug up recently. All 4 of the bodies were missing. Wheelbarrow marks could be seen petering out in the packed dirt, whilst footprints led both to and from the dilapidated farmhouse. 

We moved over there, noticing that the entrance was littered with fleshy chunks, and heard the growling of a large beast inside. Careful glances through the broken windows showed a massive sleeping bear-owl, scarred from a recent battle. Thinking that the body of its latest kill might have some form of clue on it, we made preparations to combat it, taking positions to fire every weapon we had available at the beast when it awoke. 

Flynn crept into place, raised his sword aloft, and simply killed it in a single blow, stabbing through the eye and into the brain of the creature. We all breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 

We then turned to the grizzly duty of searching through the farmhouse for a clue. It came in the unpleasant form of a piece of arm-flesh with a tattoo on it; a gang tattoo of some of Smenck’s most loyal mine-workers.

We buried Alastor’s small body in his mother’s empty grave. Torvig carried out the service, I gave a short eulogy, and Flynn performed what he called the “elven death prance”. We then returned to town carrying the massive owl-bear’s body – Morgan insisted on this “as a gift for my mum”. Carrying the huge body through the town, I couldn’t resist telling the tale of our ‘heroic fight’ with the monster to the people we passed. I’m confident that they were impressed.

.oOo.

We had decided that we should re-unite the family before returning to Alastor – more through some feeling that he might know if we hadn’t buried him as he wished, than any real sense of obligation. We therefore headed into the Feral Dog bar, where the others immediately started a noisy game of knife throwing whilst I headed to the bar; I had noticed a clutch of Smenck’s cronies. 

A few drinks and a willing ear was all it needed for them to open up. They were clearly uncomfortable with their recent orders, including grave-robbing and making deliveries to a necromancer on the edge of their own home town. This ‘Filge’ already had at least two skeletons with him up at the town Observatory.

I managed to get these thuggish men well and truly on board, and I left the bar seriously concerned about Smenck’s plan to possibly create undead miners, and his encouragement of the evil arts in our town.

-----

These summaries cover the first three sessions of our campaign, seeing us discover our first quest and subquest, and reaching level two. Our to do list consists of:

- Go through the door Alastor’s sitting in front of waiting for us.
- Defeat the necromancer and recover Alastor’s family
- Go back through the yellow ‘lift’ and see what there is there – if there’s time before the professional adventurers catch up with us.


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## Pedestrian

Top story hour. I'm looking forward to the next installments.


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## hbarsquared

Well done.  I'm excited to be in on the ground floor of your story hour, and look forward to hearing about your full twenty levels of adventures!


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## Tamlyn

Well I'm hooked. Well done. I also look forward to more.


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## Cor Azer

I really like the writing style. Should be interesting.


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## WampusCat43

Very well written, and always interesting to see how other players fared.


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## Morrus

Unfortunately, Eccles missed out one of my favourite conversations from that session:

"It looks like... a cross between an owl and a bear!"
"Hmm.. what shall we call it?"
"A bear-owl?"
"Yes!"


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## kroh

Great Story!  Nicely written with just enough humor and fun to keep it light.  I wanted to play through this myself but there is a DND outage in my area [wink].

This will be just like watching it on TV!
Regards,
Walt


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## beldar1215

Keep up the good work. I'm currently running this for two different groups. Like the other poster said, it's good to see how other are progressing through the adventures. I look forward to your next post.


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## Len

Morrus said:
			
		

> Unfortunately, Eccles missed out one of my favourite conversations from that session:
> 
> "It looks like... a cross between an owl and a bear!"
> "Hmm.. what shall we call it?"
> "A bear-owl?"
> "Yes!"



We had the same conversation in one of our games.


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## Aurora

Nice job Eccles. Sounds like a fun campaign. Keep up the good writing!


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## Darmanicus

I play Morgan the Necromancer, cough, I mean wizard. I seriously don't know where they get the idea that I'm some sort of consorter with undead; that's just wrong!  

Last nights session was great. It was very touch and go however drunken youths won out!   

And, finally, we hit 3rd......WOO-HOO!!!! 

Gods amongst men I tell ya...........


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## kroh

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> I play Morgan the Necromancer, cough, I mean wizard. I seriously don't know where they get the idea that I'm some sort of consorter with undead; that's just wrong!




You are not a necormancer, you are just sensitive to the needs of the biologicaly challenged!

Keep up the bad ...I mean good work!
Regards, 
Walt


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## Darmanicus

kroh said:
			
		

> You are not a necromancer, you are just sensitive to the needs of the biologicaly challenged!




Or maybe I'm an aspiring doctor?


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## Diplomat123

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> I play Morgan the Necromancer, cough, I mean wizard. I seriously don't know where they get the idea that I'm some sort of consorter with undead; that's just wrong!
> 
> It's because of your mum dude!  Between her furniture and all your talk of animating bodies and draining energy from people...
> 
> (I play Niccoli the hero).


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## Darmanicus

Diplomat123 said:
			
		

> It's because of your mum dude!  Between her furniture and all your talk of animating bodies and draining energy from people...
> (I play Niccoli the hero).




You just had to go and mention me Mom didn't you!!!?

What's yer Will save........hero?


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## Eccles

About the same as your Fort save, Mr save-or-die?

New session.... ur... when I've written it.

Featuring betrayal, undead, near-death crises, undead, arguments, and the undead!

Edit: Oh, and Darmanicus uses up his "I've done a silly thing" token.


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## GeorgeFields

Good reading.

I hope to get a new game going soon and starting my own story hour.


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## Morrus

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> You just had to go and mention me Mom didn't you!!!?




Aaargh!!!

Steve, you really have to drop this habit of saying "me" instead of "my".  Even Dave's noticed it! 

And where does "mom" come from?  Are you being assimilated by the yanks?


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## Inconsequenti-AL

Shh Mr Morrus, or we'll bring up gas pedals again.   

I play Torvig the cleric by the way.

Nice writing there Nik, think you've managed to capture the feel of the thing really neatly 

I'm really interested to see the next installment - morality 101.


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## Darmanicus

Morrus said:
			
		

> Steve, you really have to drop this habit of saying "me" instead of "my".  Even Dave's noticed it!




Good ol' Morrus......DM, English teacher and dad all rolled into one.......jerk!


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## Eccles

Another disclaimer. This series of posts sees more drunken party exploration. And undead. Undead are gruesome. That’s all I’ve got to say on the subject.



After another evening spent drinking, the 10 minute moonlit walk to the observatory was filled with singing and suddenly frantically whispered shushing noises. The building itself was a 3 storey sagging building, the slit for the telescope hanging bare and empty overlooking a flat bluff. Lights flickered in the upper floors of the tower, but the huge ground floor lay dark and imposing.

Whilst Torvig muttered a spell of blessing over some small stones he had picked up on the walk up, Flynn looked up, filled with drunk confidence. 
“I don’t want to go in through the front door”, he announced. “I’m going in through the roof. I’ll help you get the door open first, though.”

The double front door lay slightly raised from the ground; covered with mould, and the aging carving of a gibbering face. Before it was a short flight of stairs, under which was a small door leading to some kind of shed. Both doors were locked, and revealed no signs of magic to my inner eye. After a few minutes work, Flynn picked the lock of the toolshed under the stairs. We formed up, and I pulled the door open.

A tiny, bone-white streak hurtled out, hurtling at Niccoli’s throat. The little form, made of jagged bone shards and teeth at odd angles, sawed at his exposed flesh before leaping off him and savaged Flynn. Torvig tried twice to repel the undead with his holy symbol of Fharlanghn, to no effect. Morgan unlimbered his crossbow, drew aim at the thing (which he described as a “tomb mote”, and pulled the trigger which had laid low so many of our enemies in the last few days.

…he missed. Our jaws fell at this utterly unimaginable occurrence. The mote took advantage of our distraction, and bit out at Torvig a couple of times. Frustrated at the small wounds being slashed at the joints of his armour, Torvig smashed the tiny tomb mote with a couple of sweeping blows from his morningstar. Flynn, meanwhile, realised that the bite to his elbow was already angry and inflamed.

The toolshed the vile creature had come from was filled with useless junk. Morgan, prodding the wreckage of bones announced that tomb motes would be immune to clerical attempts to denounce them, as well as possessing a powerful effect rendering them completely safe from crossbows.

Flynn moved up the stairs and managed to fight his way past the locks on the front doors, before swinging them open. Inside, the large room was filled with wrecked furniture and smashed equipment. The far end of the room was fronted by a barricade of tables and overturned wreckage. To our horror, three skeletal figures (two adults and the abhorrence of an undead child) rose from the other side of the barricade, a blood-red glow lit the inside of their skulls and poured out of their eyes.

They raised crossbows towards us and fired, seriously injuring Niccoli in the hail of bolts. 

Torvig raised his holy symbol for a third time, and drunkenly slurred a prayer to his god. The skeletons positively exploded, bones collapsing or hurtling off in all directions. We sighed with relief.


----------



## Eccles

Having collected the crossbows and examined the strange gelatinous substance on the tips of the arrows, we opened the doors, which led onto a corridor which was practically lined with doors. 

“This must be where Sauron lives,” quipped Torvig. “Because there are more doors.” 

We all groaned, and then proceeded to ransack the series of bedrooms and small ruined office, before a sixth door led into a dining scene from nightmare. Fresh food and wine sat upon a long dining table, whilst 7 corpses sat around the table, leaving only the seat at the head of the table free. As Flynn snuck into the room to see if there was anything interesting in there, the bodies twitched, but didn’t launch themselves at his throat.

Torvig raised his holy symbol once more, and abruptly, one of the decaying forms raised its head directly towards him, stared him in the eye, and formed words with its rotting  tongue.

“Once again, m’lord has provided a delicious meal. It is an honour to dine in your presence.”

A horrendous dinner conversation then struck up, as the corpses began to eat clumsily, forks clattering from nerveless fingers; food tumbling out from the sides of fleshless mouths, whilst rice and maggots mixed in a disgusting sloppy mess on the floor beneath the diners.

“I should never have doubted you, Filge,” said one long-dead female form. “I will love you now and forever.”

“You’re a wonderful person, Filge,” chimed in Torvig, sarcastically; and the corpses hastened to agree with him as sycophantically as possible.

We picked our way around the still-moving corpses, collected a few pieces of silverware, and then crept up the stairs to the next floor, leaving this foul ‘ego-room’ behind us.


----------



## Eccles

The entire floor above was converted into a massive bedchamber, with further stairs leading up on the far wall. The huge bed, larger and softer-looking than anything any of us had seen before, lay on a raised dais. The room was presided over by a life-sized stone statue of a man, lute and rapier held aloft, with bold writing on the pedestal which read ‘Filge’.

On the other side of the bed was a pedestal, with a beige-leather-bound book resting upon it. Just beyond it was a mummified dead Halfling, which held a tray in one hand. Upon the tray was a rotting woman’s head, a single platinum piece resting atop her protruding, swollen tongue.

From behind me on the stairs came a squeal of excitement from Morgan, who began by running to a paper-covered desk, and cramming every scrap of paper he could find into a loose scroll tube. He paused in this action only to show us 4 vials of liquids, one of which appeared to have a green leech swimming in it, and was labelled “Necroturgans”. He also read a letter to us, signed ‘S’, which spoke of a cult having set up in one of the mines, and then implored Filge to come to Diamond Lake to study ‘green worms’ and ‘unkillable zombies’. 

Whilst the rest of us were glancing at one another in concern over what we were getting ourselves into, Morgan continued his frenzied looting. He dashed across the room, snatching up the platinum piece in passing before turning his attention to the book on the pedestal.

Big mistake.


----------



## Eccles

The rotting head on the platter opened one eye, the other orb twitched to reveal a small dessicated lump of gristle. The distended purple tongue twitched, and blackened teeth chewed upon it as it yelled out “INTRUDERS!” at deafening volume. We froze. 

Most of us froze, anyway. Morgan dashed from the rotting head, knocked the spellbook to the floor, and then snatched it up with a cry of “Yahoo!”

Suddenly, hasty footsteps could be heard from the floor above us. Flynn turned to the small window, took five paces, and dived out of it, falling with a wailing cry to the floor 20 feet below. The cries of the rotting head and the footsteps above continued as we all clustered to the window to see Flynn getting up, dusting himself off, and dashing back into the observatory. A minute later, he came pounding back up the stairs looking bruised and sheepish.  

As he crept up the next floor to scout out the room above for us, we heard a male voice cry out “Arise, my beautiful monstrosities!”, together with the smashing of an awful lot of glass. We ran up the stairs, drawing weapons as we went.

[Flynn’s player can’t be blamed for diving out of the window. He fumbled a horrifically difficult climb check, and this was just how we all visualised it…]

.oOo.

We couldn’t get to the top of the stairs, as our path was blocked by four hulking zombie forms. The zombies were fresh, not humanoid, and massive. They were also dripping slime, and had clearly just broken out of the four large glass tanks which could just be seen on the floor we were coming to. Filge himself could just be seen, hiding behind a skeletal form which clutched a sword.

Whilst Flynn managed to hurt one almost immediately by throwing one of Torvig’s enchanted pebbles, the necromancer at the top of the tower returned fire by hurling a green line of vile energy at Niccoli, causing his knees to sag under the weight of his armour. Our own mage pointed at one of the zombies and said a few words of power, causing it to shake, and to make the spirit trapped within the rotting flesh try to pull its way free. We could briefly see the spiritual form rise screaming from under the skin, but Morgan’s magics were not enough to truly disrupt the binding spells on the zombie.

My first shot flew true, and injured Filge, who responded by pulling some sort of syringe from his robes and injecting himself in the arm. Suddenly looking restored, he dashed out of our sight, leaving us to his zombies.

As Torvig did his best to turn the undead before him, we proved quite ineffectual. Morgan’s crossbow and Flynn and my bowshots all went wide, and the positive energies from Torvig’s holy symbol washed straight over the zombies before devastating the skeleton, bringing it straight to the floor. 

Filge summoned a floating ghostly hand, which began to float towards Morgan, whilst yelling at us “You have made an enemy for life by violating my sanctuary”. 

Whilst Torvig and Niccoli hacked away at the hulking masses above them on the stairs, taking vicious wounds themselves in turn, Filge continued to cast spells from concealment, sending his ghostly hand (now glowing with vile dark powers) to swipe at Morgan, who shuddered but shook off the worst of the spell cast upon him.

Morgan’s own spell of life-draining terror seemed to have no effect on the necromancer in turn, whilst I used what little magical powers I had to restore Niccoli to some semblance of health.

Finally, after still more hacking, shooting and flailing, two of the zombies crashed messily to the floor, followed almost immediately by Morgan as Filge’s disembodied ghost-hand brought him to the floor with a series of nasty ice-covered wounds. 

Leaving the badly-wounded Niccoli to deal with the zombies, Torvig, Flynn and I pushed forwards into the room, Torvig and I taking wounds as we pushed past the undead. 

One more spell was cast by the necromancer, this one causing Torvig to run and cower in the corner of the room in fear, before Flynn reached Filge, cowering on the floor behind one of the massive smashed glass chambers. Flynn’s sword flashed to Filge’s throat, and the necromancer cowered.

“I surrender!” Filge yelled.

At our shouted demands, he called off the zombies, and stood mutely as Niccoli smashed them to pieces. He then begged with us to spare his life, promising to tell us all that he knew.


----------



## Eccles

Over the next few minutes, our captive told us that he had been summoned from Greyhawk by ‘Balabar’ (confirming our suspicion that the ‘S’ on the letter Morgan had found below was indeed Balamar Smenck the mine-owner), to help investigate a mine which Smenck had described as being crawling with undead. He spoke of the ‘Ebon Triad’, and an ‘Age of Worms spreading from the swamp’. 

We learned that Smenck was until recently a hoodlum in the Free City, but had come into money and was now leading a life as a ruthless mine-owner here in Diamond Lake. 

Filge explained that the ‘Ebon Triad’ was a group of worshippers of Erythnull, Vecna and Hastur, whose dream was to combine these gods of Slaughter, Lies and Death into a single being of supreme evil. The green worm in the phial in his bedchamber had been recovered by Smenck from this ‘evil’ mine shaft, and Filge had identified it as coming from a ‘Spawn of Kius’, a phenomenally powerful creature whose worms could turn a man to living dead within a single day. Kius himself was known as the ‘Harbinger of the Age of Worms’. 

.oOo.

Having interrogated Filge, all that remained was to decide what to do with him. Flynn and I were broadly of the opinion that he should not be allowed to live to continue his vile practices, but the other two who were still conscious were of a more liberal viewpoint. They believed that he should be released.

“What, are you kidding,” I demanded. “What about all that ‘Enemy for life’ business from just now. Besides, the guy’s been in town for 3 days, and there were already 16 undead in the observatory. How many more would he need to make a move on the outlying homesteads? How many after that before he decided he wanted more power? More action? More glory in his name? What’s next – the town, or the garrison? He’s a necromancer, for the Gods’ sakes!”

“Yeah,” pointed out Niccoli. “But he hasn’t actually broken any laws.”

When Flynn and I had finished spluttering, the argument broke out in honesty. Vile imprecations were muttered about the effect on our souls were we to harm the necromancer following his surrender. Equally vile suggestions were made about what Filge could accomplish if we simply dragged him into town, where the Watch were entirely in the pay of Filge. 

At an impasse, 2 refusing to let him go, and 2 refusing to deal with Filge in a more permanent way, we finally reached an accord. The necromancer would be taken to the garrison, to answer for those evil acts which he had committed, including supporting the robbing of many graves, and to prevent him from running to Smenck and leaving us in terrible danger from any revenge.

“I’ll take him,” volunteered Niccoli. “It’s time I reported in anyway.”

For some reason, he would not hear of my going with him, and insisted on taking Filge away with him immediately. Even when I insisted that I should accompany the two of them to the garrison, Niccoli whirled around and refused, even going so far as to put his hand on his sword hilt. Intimidated, I backed down and let them walk out of the observatory, before darting down the stairs and following them, keeping to the shadows all the way.

Niccoli headed towards the garrison for a little way, before turning onto the main Greyhawk path, and to my horror he then cut the bindings tying the necromancer’s hands, exchanging a few short words, and allowing the man to walk free.

Shocked by what I had seen, I took to my heels and dashed back towards the town.

-----

Quite a lot for one session, really! The sheer mass of undead facing us saw us safely to level 3, and answered a few more questions. The list of questions now appears to be: -
- Is Niccoli actually in league with the forces of evil?
- Is *Smenck* in league with the forces of evil? Or of good? Or just the forces of Smenck?
- Will Alastor let us through that door now?
- Is there someone else who can save the world from the impending worm-based Apocalypse? Anyone?


----------



## kroh

Awsome!  You really have a talent for turning session into story!  
Regards,
Walt


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Another fine piece of work there Mr Eccles!

Thanks for the writing up! Managed to spin a most readable story out of it all! 


From a PCs POV:

That fight was really close. We'd all dribbled down to our last few hit points when Flynn cornered the necromancer and his cowardice took over. A miracle none of us died I tells ya!

Afterwards, the idea of hit and run tactics popped up. Would have been a lot easier all together... got to love hindsight!

Edit: 
- Is *Smenck* in league with the forces of evil? Or of good? Or just the forces of Smenck?

You know it's got to be a combination of options 1 + 3!


----------



## Aurora

Eccles said:
			
		

> the necromancer at the top of the tower returned fire by hurling a green line of vile energy at Niccoli, causing his knees to sag under the weight of his armour.



Great way to write the effects of Ray of Enfeeblement.
Overall, another great piece of writing. Just as a suggestion, I would watch your switches between third and first person. There is nothing wrong with switching between perspectives in between posts and even POV's (sometimes writing from your PC's POV and other times someone else's). In fact, I find that a lot of fun, but I would stick with the same one in the same post.


----------



## Eccles

Aurora said:
			
		

> Great way to write the effects of Ray of Enfeeblement.
> Overall, another great piece of writing. Just as a suggestion, I would watch your switches between third and first person. There is nothing wrong with switching between perspectives in between posts and even POV's (sometimes writing from your PC's POV and other times someone else's). In fact, I find that a lot of fun, but I would stick with the same one in the same post.




Did I? Damn. I kind of had to for my dialogue, but never mind. 



			
				Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> Afterwards, the idea of hit and run tactics popped up. Would have been a lot easier all together... got to love hindsight!




Believe me, I've been kicking myself that I didn't _disguise_ myself as Smenck and just wander up the stairs...


----------



## Darmanicus

That was an awfully close fight and we weren't sure if we'd actually live through it.

If I had actually failed my save vs Filge's 'Ghoul Touch', it probably would have gone down hill from there due to it's sickening stench ability.

And thank god for cantrips, I actually managed to 'Daze' Filge for one round hehe!!!   

All in all a good fight.


----------



## Eccles

We rose the next morning, and spent over an hour dashing from shop to shop selling items and spending our ill-gotten gains. We each bought those items we thought were the most important; armour for Torvig, Niccoli and Flynn, a new disguise kit and superb lute were my priorities. Pleased with ourselves, we headed back to the Whispering Cairn, relit the lanterns, and fought our way back up the rope into Alastor’s room.

He materialised in the air before us, smiled and thanked us. When asked, he also told us that he had heard footsteps below his chamber the night before. This caused us a concern – clearly the other group had been here and begun to look through rooms we were seeing as our own to loot and ransack.

Fading, Alastor disappeared through the heavy stone door, which slid open a moment later. The chamber within was massive, deep and circular. A 40 drop was ringed by a balcony, with 4 chambers set into the ring. In the centre was a platform, again circular, set around a shaft of light and air. At one stage there had been 4 paths leading to the central ring, but two of these had clearly collapsed long ago. We moved into this large room, leaving Morgan to wedge the door shut. This done, he chanted briefly, sending a flurry of grey spirits flying up in the air before him. He breathed in deeply, drawing the ghosts into his lungs and putting colour in his cheeks. 

A second invocation, and I could have sworn that I saw a skeletal cloaked figure appear behind him, and wrap its arms around him; drawing its cloak protectively around the mage. Happy with his wards, Morgan moved into the chamber behind us. 

.oOo.

Moving around the edges of the chamber, we saw that the deeper rooms around the ring had richly painted bas-reliefs on their back walls. As we drew close to the first such painting (covered with a group of Varti wind dukes), steam began to pour across the images, gradually forming shapes. The steam coalesced into terrible creatures; half spider, half wolf. These creatures dashed and burst against the painted wind dukes in an animated rendition of the war against Chaos.

In the second picture, 7 of the wind dukes (one of each bearing the same glyph as shown on the mirror at the entrance of the Cairn) stood before a knot of high-caste Varti, presenting a long staff to them with great ceremony. Again, thick steam ran up from the floor towards the ceiling, this time showing the staff break into seven pieces, and drifting off into the cosmos.

The third showed a large group of Varti around a towering figure, identified by the glyph at his feet as ‘Icosiel’. In the steam, the figures around him bowed and saluted him. One of the bowing figures was labelled as ‘Zosiel’; the carved figure from the sarcophagus in the chamber downstairs. 

The fourth and final image showed a huge battle, whose moving image showed both the high-born Varti Lord Qadeej and Miska, the three-headed wolf-spider Queen of Chaos. As steam poured over the painted wall, the Varti impaled Miska where her demonic torso joined with a massive spider-body. Even in her agony, she managed to blast him with a devastating beam from the rays of one of the two wolf-heads which shared her spider-body. The two vanished into a vast planar rift which opened up to swallow them.


----------



## Eccles

Our tour of the galleries complete, Flynn was the first to step onto one of the bridges to the central platform. Silently, two armoured forms descended from the ceiling, floating in mid-air in the tall pillar of air and light. Swords held in gauntlets, the armour appeared to be empty; long ribbons blowing in a non-existent breeze.

They swooped to attack us, as I sang a chant of encouragement as Torvig enchanted Niccoli’s sword. The two forms clanged their swords together, sending agonising waves of sound over us, before one drifted out off the platform to hang in the open air before us. As it took flight, our hearts sank.

Bows sang and swords slashed. Morgan chanted and I sang. Vicious black lines dragged the energy out of one of the wind-warriors. Our physical blows swang wild and arrows curved in flight. Spells failed and still their swords slammed down into my friends’ bodies as we tried miserably to defeat the wind-warriors. All my spell energy for an entire day were invested into Niccoli in a desperate effort to keep my strongest ally on his feet; our implacable and faceless foes showed no sign of any injury whatsoever, beyond a few feeble scratches in their armour from our more lucky blows.

.oOo.

With flesh failing before the elemental onslaught, we began a fighting retreat towards the door we had entered through. Suddenly, without explanation, the two elementals withdrew to the air column they had first come from. 

Encouraged by their retreat, Morgan stepped onto one of the stumps of fallen bridgeway and flung one of his few remaining spells at the two elementals; the fleeting image of charging ghosts causing one of the two wind-warriors to flee in terror. The other hurtled at my mage friend, dealing him a vicious slash with his longsword. Morgan stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. 

It wasn’t over yet. I could still see my friend’s black robes rising and falling subtly 5 feet from the floating armoured foe. Over 50 feet from us, we barraged it with a hail of largely ineffectual arrows and slingstones in a vain effort to distract the enemy, but we were unsuccessful. The wind-warrior floated forwards, two swords flashed brightly, and Morgan’s blood sprayed the air. He twisted, and was still.


----------



## GeorgeFields

Eccles said:
			
		

> The fourth and final image showed a huge battle, whose moving image showed both the high-born Varti Lord Qadeej and Miska, the three-headed wolf-spider Queen of Chaos. As steam poured over the painted wall, the Varti impaled Miska where her demonic torso joined with a massive spider-body. Even in her agony, she managed to blast him with a devastating beam from the rays of one of the two wolf-heads which shared her spider-body. The two vanished into a vast planar rift which opened up to swallow them.




Great story so far, but wasn't Mishka the Queen of Chaos' general and NOT the Queen herself?


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Not sure tbh - this adventure is the first place any of us has come across this particular piece of lore...

Nice writings there Mr Nick  

If I can get my printer going, I'm going to take a copy of the picture descriptions. Have a strange feeling they might become relevant sooner or later


----------



## Hairball

Eccles said:
			
		

> ... Morgan’s blood sprayed the air. He twisted, and was still.





Oooooh.  A cliffhanger.


----------



## Eccles

Hairball said:
			
		

> Oooooh.  A cliffhanger.



Yeah. I'll post the rest in a little while. Just need to finish off where we got to.

As to the General thing; possibly. I have to admit that I didn't write down her rank, just her name during the session, but putting a large female woman/spider/wolf/wolf/demon and 'Queen of Chaos' from a box lid found in the next room together is pretty plausible, if you ask me!


----------



## Cor Azer

Eccles said:
			
		

> Our tour of the galleries complete, Dave was the first to step onto one of the bridges to the central platform.




Did I miss something? Who's Dave?


----------



## Hairball

Eccles said:
			
		

> Yeah. I'll post the rest in a little while. Just need to finish off where we got to.




Looking forward to it.  It's been good reading.  Thanks for posting it.


----------



## GeorgeFields

Eccles said:
			
		

> As to the General thing; possibly. I have to admit that I didn't write down her rank, just her name during the session, but putting a large female woman/spider/wolf/wolf/demon and 'Queen of Chaos' from a box lid found in the next room together is pretty plausible, if you ask me!




True. I finally looked it up, but I'll not say. I'd hate to give you any information that might affect your game.

Definitely looking forward to the next post!

Hail & Peace


----------



## Eccles

Cor Azer said:
			
		

> Did I miss something? Who's Dave?




D'oh! Flynn. I'll go change it...


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> They swooped to attack us, as I sang a chant of encouragement as Torvig enchanted Morgan’s sword.




Not my sword.......


----------



## Eccles

Oh, for pity's sakes. I'm going back to writing using real names and then search/replacing...


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Oh, for pity's sakes. I'm going back to writing using real names and then search/replacing...




We luv ya really Nik  

Ooo, didn't realize I hit a 1000 posts    Do I get cake?


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> Ooo, didn't realize I hit a 1000 posts    Do I get cake?




You do get a cake. 

Unfortunately it is the Cake of Death and you will be forced to eat it.


----------



## Aurora

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> You do get a cake.
> 
> Unfortunately it is the Cake of Death and you will be forced to eat it.




LOL. 

Nice update- waiting for more.


----------



## Morrus

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> You do get a cake.
> 
> Unfortunately it is the Cake of Death and you will be forced to eat it.




C'mon, Al, you know perfectly well that it's actually the Cake of Ultimate Doom.


----------



## Eccles

More ineffectual arrows bounced off the armoured auran; made to look all the more feeble by the efforts of Morgan’s weasel familiar, which stood over the body of its fallen master, and bit savagely at the wind-warrior, before leaping in misery into the 40 foot pit.

At this same moment, the spell of fear faded on the distant figure which had fled moments before. Our problems kept on growing as it glided silently across the chamber towards us whilst the other flicked Morgan’s blood from its blades and floated back to the column of air.

Morgan’s death somehow drove us into a fury. Gripping blades and shooting frantically, we stood and fired as Niccoli and Torvig charged into the air elementals. Two handed sword strokes and spell-enchanted dwarven strength drove spear and blade into the shining armour, which collapsed. Grimly, we turned on the second elemental, and charged.

Again, luck sided with us; blades flashed on both sides before we triumphed over the air elemental. It fell with alarming ease after the difficulty we had had previously.

.oOo.

The others investigated the air column, which revealed that it blew items in it up and somehow through the ceiling. I turned to Morgan’s body; recovering and cleaning his bloodstained spellbook with a cantrip, before penning a short epitaph on the last page. Then I rejoined my friends, to see Niccoli’s feet disappearing through the ceiling above us, followed by Flynn, who leapt into the shaft of light and hurtled upwards after our fighter friend.

A few moments later, Torvig and I leapt into the shaft of light and flew upwards to join them.


----------



## Eccles

Above the shaft of light lay a small white-walled chamber. In the centre of the room lay a white sarcophagus, identical to the one downstairs in all except colour and the intact finger on the left hand. On the wall to the sarcophagus’ foot was a picture of a wind-duke and a demon, the demon using some form of metallic loop and rod to control a sphere of annihilation; a sphere which was rolling through the auran and destroying it utterly. As Torvig and I rose through the floor of this new chamber, we could see all of this, and also see Flynn taking a step towards the sarcophagus. The wind duke’s picture turned to face us, and demanded “Speak my name”. 

“Zosiel,” I replied reflexively, recognising the picture as the same as the sarcophagus.

A shaft of blue light shone from around the top of the sarcophagus, lighting the whole room. Using the last of his enchanted strength, Torvig pushed the lid free, to reveal an empty space within, with three items lying on a velvet cushion. A silver diadem with Zosiel’s emblem on it; a pair of demonic horns (identical to that in the picture), and a pewter box, covered in writing which writhed and crawled in front of our eyes, but which clearly read “the Queen of Chaos”. The lid was melted shut.

Flynn immediately tried to open the box. He failed.

.oOo.

We took the decision to place Morgan’s body into the sarcophagus on a whim. The image of a more experienced band of adventurers working their way here and then finding a local lad’s body there was too good to pass up. 

Once the lit was shut, I muttered “look after our friend, Zosiel,” on a whim. Blue light flared from the sarcophagus edge, whilst white light bathed the whole room. Suddenly, Morgan’s muffled voice could be heard yelling as he banged on the inside of the lid. Our friend was alive!


----------



## Eccles

We freed him from the sarcophagus, and worked our way back to the room ringed with coloured lanterns. As we marched towards the entrance way, there was a grinding noise from behind us, as the stone chamber rose once more from beneath the yellow lantern. The door slid open, and the warrior from the “experienced” adventuring group stepped out with a sack slung over his shoulder. He looked up and saw us, before announcing “we’ve cleared this place out”, and jingled the gold and other items in the sack over his shoulder.

Our hearts sank.

The warrior’s two companions joined him, and after a short discussion agreed to show us the treasure which they had looted from the one place we had not managed to get to. Unloading the warrior’s sack took a distressingly long time, as their wizard gloated over the valuable statues, pile of gold, magical wands and enchanted armour. 

Telling them that they could buy the first round of drinks, we shared a boat back to town.

.oOo.

Later that night, the other group having gone on to another bar, we pulled our own treasure out from under the table. Once again, we’d perhaps had too much to drink, and that was what encouraged us to wrestle the lid off the box inscribed with writing text which read “Queen of Chaos”.

Inside, positively throbbing with mystical energy, lay a short metal rod with a silvery loop on one end – the controlling rod for a sphere of annihilation, such as we had seen in the fresco back in the chamber of resurrection. In our hands lay a priceless artefact, the single most valuable item in the whole of Diamond Lake. Our minds swam on a sea of imagined riches. And alcohol.

---

This episode brought to you by the number 6, the letter ‘W’, and the joke “Do you know the difference between a ferret and a weasel? They’re stoatally different.”


----------



## Miln

Eccles said:
			
		

> As Torvig and I rose through the floor of this new chamber, we could see all of this, and also see *Dave* taking a step towards the sarcophagus.




a small edit is needed


Also, thanks for writing this up! It's a blast to read.


----------



## Eccles

Done! Bother it!

You'll be expecting me to do my own proof reading next!


----------



## Aurora

Another nice update-short but sweet. Your characters like to drink, so it would seem  Hell of a find with the artifact.


----------



## Hairball

Eccles said:
			
		

> ... Suddenly, Morgan’s muffled voice could be heard yelling as he banged on the inside of the lid. Our friend was alive!




LOL.  So was he dead-dead or just mostly-dead?

In other words, did the sarcophagus ressurect him or just heal him?

Also, what happened with the weasel familiar?  Was it a noble suicide or did he crawl out of the pit after Morgan was restored?

Thanks for the update!


----------



## GeorgeFields

Aurora said:
			
		

> Your characters like to drink, so it would seem




Don't most PCs? 

I agree the story-writing is great. I'm really pining to get a new game going now.


----------



## Morrus

Hairball said:
			
		

> Also, what happened with the weasel familiar?  Was it a noble suicide or did he crawl out of the pit after Morgan was restored?




It _attempted _ to commit suicide but failed!


----------



## Eccles

Morrus said:
			
		

> It _attempted _ to commit suicide but failed!




Had 16 HP or something. 30 foot fatal damage left it with 2HP, but the bashing damage from the last 10ft knocked it out. Morgan fished it back out with a mage hand spell on his way out.


----------



## Supaida

Alright! Morgan's okay! That wacky, zombie-loving kook. He's my favorite character so far, although I may be biased because I imagine his parents as Gomez and Morticia Addams. I've never played the Age of Worms modules, but I like the writing style and the "drunk townies with nothing better to do" premise a lot, and I hope you keep writing this for a while.


----------



## Darmanicus

Hairball said:
			
		

> LOL.  So was he dead-dead or just mostly-dead?
> 
> In other words, did the sarcophagus ressurect him or just heal him?




I was TOTALLY dead. I think that elemental thing took me down to about -20 - -30? 



			
				Hairball said:
			
		

> Also, what happened with the weasel familiar?  Was it a noble suicide or did he crawl out of the pit after Morgan was restored?




After showing up the rest of the party by doing more damage in one round than the rest of them put together    Russ got scared and ruled that my familiar would commit suicide. He was just going to leave it at that at the end of the session however we made him saw reason and fair play so we worked out the damage the fall would cause........and it just wasn't enough    My weasel is nails   



			
				Supaida said:
			
		

> Alright! Morgan's okay! That wacky, zombie-loving kook. He's my favorite character so far




And you, are my favourite poster


----------



## Hairball

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> I was TOTALLY dead. I think that elemental thing took me down to about -20 - -30?




Yikes!!!  I'm surprised they didn't need a spatula and a bucket to put you in the sarcophagus.


----------



## Dpulse303

great writing Nick .
Flynn/Dave  out.


----------



## Morrus

Next session starts in about half an hour!


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Hehe - and we're doomed! As a small spoiler - Due to unforseen circumstances our characters couldn't get nearly drunk enough to take on the next adventuring area. Can it end well for us? 


And *Supaida*, it's one thing you havn't really seen -  the story is from Evans point of view. We've sat in OOC while Morgan chats to his mum... Morticia isn't too wide of the mark! 

She even liked the dead owlbear he bought her. Shudder!   

Not met the dad yet. He's busy. Raising up an army of vampiric wereliches is my best guess? 


Thanks again Mr Nik!


----------



## Darmanicus

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> Hehe - and we're doomed! As a small spoiler - Due to unforseen circumstances our characters couldn't get nearly drunk enough to take on the next adventuring area. Can it end well for us?
> 
> 
> And *Supaida*, it's one thing you havn't really seen -  the story is from Evans point of view. We've sat in OOC while Morgan chats to his mum... Morticia isn't too wide of the mark!
> 
> She even liked the dead owlbear he bought her. Shudder!
> 
> Not met the dad yet. He's busy. Raising up an army of vampiric wereliches is my best guess?
> 
> 
> Thanks again Mr Nik!




That owlbear will make a nice rug I'll have you know!.......amongst other things....  

And dad's actually a pretty run of the mill guy.


----------



## Aurora

Morrus said:
			
		

> Next session starts in about half an hour!



Ok, Eccles, if the session was 4 days ago, where is the update


----------



## Dpulse303

lol yeah i want to know what happened too , oh i was there....anyways hurry up want to see it on the boards!


----------



## Eccles

OK... I'll dig out what I've done so far and get it posted... Bear with me!


----------



## Eccles

We didn’t see Morgan for about a day after that. He turned up in the Feral Dog the following evening; ink smudges on his cheek and a satisfied smile on his face. He also had a letter clutched in one hand, which he flattened on the beer-soaked table and read out to us.

“Dear Morgan,

You don’t know me, but you may have heard of me. My name is Allustan, and I am an old associate of your mother’s. I hope that she is well?

I have heard that you and your friends recently encountered a strange phenomenon while up at the Old Observatory. From the sounds of it, your discoveries may well tie in to certain evidence I have recently unearthed.

My research has indicated that there is increasing evidence of strange undead creatures infested with tiny green worms stalking the hills south of Diamond Lake. I worry that these creatures could prove a threat to the township, and wonder if you and your friends would be willing to pursue the leads I have uncovered so far?

My studies indicate that the worms might somehow be connected to an ancient temple hidden beneath the earth. According to my calculations, the temple is located beneath a copper mine owned by Ragnolin Dourstone. I do not know whether Dourstone himself is connected to the temple – or even if the temple is currently occupied.

I would suggest that my brother, the merchant Balabar Smenk, may be the key to gaining access to Dourstone’s mine. It is well known that the two are bitter rivals. Neither is trustworthy, bit their animosity may be enough to make Balabar open to a temporary alliance.

I know little about the layout of the mine or the temple, bit my research indicates that there may be some kind of “elevator” within the mines. I believe that this is how one could access the temple itself.

Allustan”


----------



## Eccles

Intrigued by this letter, we finished our drinks, and went to the home of the most powerful mage in the town. After knocking at the door, an elderly man answered and (after examining the letter carefully), led us into a fine old drawing room, lined with expensive-looking paintings. After enquiring after our needs, he brought a tray of nimby and left us.

A few minutes later, the doors to the drawing room flew open to reveal a man in his 50s, his head crested with a shock of white hair. His greeting was fulsome and energetic, and he began by handing a gift to Morgan to give to his mother, who had once been one of Allustan’s apprentices. 

In return, Morgan discussed matters mystical with the mage. The papers we had taken from the Old Observatory were handed to Allustan, together with the ‘necrofirge’ – the tiny green worm we found in Filge’s bedchamber. 

Allustan asked us if we had heard of the ‘Nethertome of Trask’; although Morgan and I had both heard mention of the book, neither of us knew much of it. 

“It speaks of Vecna,” boomed Allustan. “Not only Vecna, but also his legacy, in the form of the walking death Kyuss. However, the book also speaks of an older source of evil, ‘The Way of The Ebon Triad”.”

According to Allustan, this ‘Ebon Triad’ was related to the creation of the ‘Age of Worms’, which would be brought on by the rising of a three-formed supreme deity of evil. The formation of this supreme being would be assisted by the ‘Faceless One’, a being who would be involved in the ascension of this new god.

Allusten’s research also led him to believe that this was related to the new worm-infested undead, and that it could be related to the rumour of an underground ‘cathedral’ which was used by Vecna in aeons past – before his ascension to godhood or even lichedom.

We thanked the mage, and were impressed by his obvious desire to assist the town and defend it from magical dangers. He gave us a number of gifts to assist us in our endeavours – a letter of introduction to his brother; a suit of enchanted mithril armour (which was taken gleefully by Flynn); a ring of protection (which we all agreed should be taken by Torvig the cleric to help protect him from the many fights he was finding himself in since our recent adventures began), and a wooden box of complicated multi-coloured inks to help Morgan with his spellcasting.

.oOo.

This meant that Morgan locked himself into his rooms again for 3 days whilst he used up the precious inks to scribe more morbid spells from the book taken from Filge into his own spellbook. We spent the intervening time as best we knew how. In a bar, naturally enough.


----------



## Eccles

When Morgan returned, unable to clean the last of some blood-red ink from the sleeve of his tattered clothes, we headed to Smenk’s palatial mansion house. The doors, as ever, stood wide open to allow any miners to speak to their employer. The fact that the doors were guarded by a pair of massive feral dire apes would probably dissuade any employees brave enough to want to make demands of Smenk.

They devoured the large slab of meat I had brought for them as Torvig rang the bell. We waited, listening to the sounds of rending meat and noisy chewing, before a guard came around the side of the house yelling at us to go away.

After a short chat, the guard was mollified, and agreed to speak to his master once we showed him the letter of introduction. He left us standing in the mud outside the house, as the heavens opened and a downpour began.

.oOo.

10 minutes later, and we were cold, wet and miserable, which is probably partly why Smenk waited that long before making his entrance. He stood just inside his front door, flanked by the two snarling dire apes. Growling himself, he demanded what we wanted.

As we stood in the pouring rain, Smenk spoke to us about his belief that there were cultists in the mine. Either he was in cahoots with his brother, or the two had both been researching the same thing from different angles.

We asked if there was any way that Smenk could help us get into the mine, but he was gruff and singularly unhelpful. Stroking the head of one of the dire apes, he growled out the news that there were a round two dozen guards, 12 humans working throughout the day, and 12 dwarves who worked at night. They were led by Dourstone, using three senior foremen, one of whom (named Gerald) was in the habit of drinking in the Feral Dog (our bar of choice).

Smenk also let slip that he knew about the Ebon Triad; a fact which we were swift to pretend we had seen nothing of. He didn’t, however, tell us anything new about them. 

Finally, to our great delight, he offered to pay us money to investigate the mine – 50 gold apiece up front, with the promise of another 50 when we had finished clearing the mine.


----------



## Morrus

And coming up soon - our unlikely heroes actually do an honest day's work in the mines!


----------



## Darmanicus

Nice one Nik however you haven't finished you dog, get writing!!!


----------



## Aurora

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> Nice one Nik however you haven't finished you dog, get writing!!!




Yeah, what he said (like I freakin' know you didn't finish)   
I love how your characters always end up in a pub. Mmmmmm a pub. I could use a pint of cider......


----------



## Eccles

Chatting about whether we’d ever be able to rely on Smenk to pay up, we headed to the bar, where we saw a familiar sight – the three adventurers were celebrating once again. Biting our lips, we headed across to speak to them, and learned that they had had another adventure, going to the south to defeat lizardmen and gain still more treasure. 

We congratulated them on their success (all the while wondering why they had found lizardmen to the south when Smenk and his brother had been talking about Kyuss-worm undead living there). Then, turning to the back of the bar, we noticed Gerald, with another man, sharing a bottle at a shady table. 

I headed across to try to talk him into offering us a job, but somehow rubbed him up the wrong way. He immediately took loud and abusive exception to my lute (which was new enough that I was still immensely proud of). Only by telling him of my companions’ great virtues in mining was I able to make him even consider talking to us. 

Gerald refused, however, to believe that Morgan had any skills; which was ironic as he was the only one of the three of us who had the slightest clue what was involved in the mining industry. He agreed to employ all of us if Morgan could answer 3 questions about mining; and sweetened the deal with a 5 gold bet with me. As 10 gold lay on the table (probably more money than would be spent in the bar during the entire night), Gerald barked his questions at Morgan.

“What sized bolt would you use on a 8 foot tunnel support?”
“10 inch on an oak timber, 18 inch on pine.”
“What degree of an incline could you set for a downwards sloping tunnel when you don’t need to lay tracks, but do intend for workers to haul scree out?”
“That depends on what the rock is, and what you’re mining for. If you’re on a good solid rock, then the ground can hold a higher slope, say 12 degrees. If you’re on porous rock, then you need to cut it slower and make sure you’ve got good drainage. Clearly if you’re mining a heavy metal and have an average yield mine, then the workers are going to have to haul a lot of sacks – they’ll be at their most efficient on a slope of 6 degrees or less.” Morgan was on a roll now, and was impressing me with his mining knowledge.
“How many dwarves would it take to mine 120 kilos of silver from a mine during the course of a single tuesday if they work all 24 hours, it’s raining, and they have no beards?”
“That’s a trick question on two counts. One, dwarves round here don’t work on Tuesdays, and two, all dwarves have beards.”

Gerald looked grudgingly impressed, and slid the coins across the table to me. “You start tomorrow. It pays 2 silver a day.”


----------



## Eccles

The next morning, we trudged through the mud up the hill into the stockaded mine. The area around the mouth of the mine was ringed with a picket fence, patrolled by men and dwarves to ensure that the mine workers couldn’t leave their ‘employment’. Within the stockade, there were remarkably few buildings; accommodation for the guards and a large cookhouse. One of the guards grunted that the miners lived within the mine, as he led us in there.

The top of the mine assaulted our nostrils with the stench of sweaty bodies and smoky torches. We were shown to a set of stinking flea-infested pallets, but weren’t given time to leave any items behind. This was good, as we didn’t really have a lot with us. Knowing we were going to be searched, Flynn had sneaked into the compound the night before to hide our vital equipment.

We took rusty picks from a decaying rack, and headed into the dimly lit mine. As some sort of idiotic cost-cutting exercise, Dourstone had only paid for half as many torches as were needed to light the mine, resulting in a dim and guttering half-light, in which we trudged past the broken spirited mineworkers, overseen by a massive half-orc with a huge spiked club at his belt.

The foreman set us a target of 2 pounds of silver before our shift was out, and then left us to it without any further advice. We slammed picks into the walls for what seemed like an age before I moved towards another miner and began to ask him about anything unusual in the mine; anywhere the miners weren’t allowed to go.

“There’s nowhere like that,” said the one closest to me. “We don’t exactly have the freedom of the place, you know. Mind you, there is the boarded off passageway down there. Only the manager is allowed down that one.”

Bingo.


----------



## Eccles

Flynn and I set to work immediately; he backed into the shadows to take a look at the mysterious ‘boarded off passage’, whilst I started carrying sacks of rubble out of the mine and returning with small amounts of our equipment. On my third trip, I heard Morgan explaining patiently to the massive half-orc that there was a better source of ore down towards the passageway and making his own way towards the planking.

A couple more trips and I was stopped in turn by one of the guards, demanding to know what was in the sacks. A mumbled excuse and a careful and flamboyant gesture; the man was easily pleased by my turning the sack upside down and shaking it, not even questioning what I was gripping so hard at the bottom of the sack.

As Flynn was hiding our kit within the mine, and I was ferrying it in, it fell to Torvig and Niccoli to distract the manager when he came in a while later. Niccoli’s efforts to get in the mans way resulted in a clout to the head and a series of vile oaths. 

Torvig leapt in to stop the violence, and to ask about the manager’s practiced throwing arm. Somehow, the two fell into a discussion about competitive stone throwing, and the manager wandered away to set up a competition with the miners.

.oOo.

We were ready. Just as the other miners were being summoned for their noon-time meal, Morgan directed us in levering the heavy planks off the blockage and pulling them back into place behind us. Beyond, a 400 foot long passageway wound off before us.

After a good deal of trudging through the dark, we reached a small chamber with a wooden platform in the centre, suspended from a metal chain which was securely attached to the ceiling. In the middle of the platform (which was just big enough for three to travel on) was a winch arrangement to hoist the platform down a tunnel beneath us.

Flynn and I stayed at the top, whilst the others winched themselves deeper and deeper into the darkness, the squeaking of the winch and the light form their torch growing fainter and fainter as my friends slowly winched themselves out of sight. Just as he descended from view, I could see Morgan chanting and gasping in the spiritual energies of his protective spells.


----------



## Eccles

A few minutes later, Flynn and I dimly heard the sound of a skirmish from below. Banging on doors, the clang of weapons on armour, and then screaming.

You can imagine our relief some two minutes later when Torvig laboriously winched the platform back up the chain to collect Flynn and I, and the three of us descended together to join Niccoli and Morgan.

At the bottom of the shaft was a crossroads. The passageways to the north, east and west ended in large doors. To the north, the door was fronted with the hand and eye of Vecna. To the west, the door was clear and unmarked. The last door, to the east, was marked with the fist and arrows symbol of Hextor, and just in front of that door lay the decapitated bodies of two armoured tieflings.

To the south was a vast domed hall, carved extremely well and floored with exquisite marble. Torches glowed from the walls and a large square pool stood in the centre of the room filled to the brim with a dark liquid. Spaced above the rim of the pool were three platforms, positioned as though one could step off them and fall into the liquid beneath.

Around the edges of the pool lay bloodstains and scratches in the marble floor.

We backed carefully away from the pool and headed back to the doors.

.oOo.

One of the bodies on the floor had a key at its belt. Flynn took this, and inspected the three doorways. The key fit the door marked with Hextor’s symbol, and we opened it carefully.

Beyond the door was a rectangular room some 40 feet in length, in which stood 8 corpses in rusting plate armour. Tied to each of the corpses was a leather strap with a bell hanging off it. All of us leapt to the same nasty conclusion – stepping into the room would make the corpses move, which would ring the bells and potentially alert something far more unpleasant.

Using Torvig’s longspear and Morgan’s spell to lift small objects at a distance, we severed the bells off two of the bodies. We couldn’t reach any more bells until Niccoli tied the longspear to another spear carried by Flynn. That dealt with most of the bells, but two lay out of reach until we tied a motley assortment of long items, greataxes and anything else we could find to stretch into the room and cut the last of the bells free of the leather straps to float back to Morgan’s outstretched hand.

After congratulating Niccoli for not missing a single bell with our heath-robinson cutting device, we took it apart, gathered a short distance from the door to the room, and Torvig raised his holy symbol to the skeletons.

Almost all of them shuddered, and collapsed noiselessly. The other two moved towards us and were hacked down in moments. We gripped our weapons and prepared to move into the next chamber.


----------



## Dpulse303

With baited breath our readers eagerly await the next installment....coming soon:
 "An eye in the hand is worth three in the bush" and "Six arms make for light work(of us)"

seriously though next installment is this evening and i cant wait...bring it on!


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Dpulse303 said:
			
		

> "An eye in the hand is worth three in the bush" and "Six arms make for light work(of us)




That's a good couple of taglines there  Use them for the film version of the story hour? 


Great stuff again Mr Eccles!


----------



## Tamlyn

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> Great stuff again Mr Eccles!




Agreed. Well done!


----------



## Darmanicus

Please remind me not to use up virtually all my spells on 2 mooks   

Oh well, back to the trusted X-Bow.


----------



## hbarsquared

Excellent.  Your story hour has me laughing out loud with Morgan's "test" and the (mis)adventures while preparing to go through the boarded-up door.


----------



## Morrus

Tonight's session was a blast!  Pretty much all combat.  I look forward to Eccles' writeup of it!


----------



## kroh

The Test for Morgan was great and I was actually fighting the urge to look ahead to see if your tricks with tying the spears would work.  

Nicely Done....

Regards.
Walt


----------



## Aurora

Corpses with bells on, huh.....lol

Nice update.


----------



## Eccles

Almost at the instant that we entered the room which had recently held 8 skeletons, a door on the left wall swung open. In the doorway stood a black-robed man stood framed in a light from the room behind him. His heavily scarred face was transfixed in a snarl as he clutched a wickedly bladed longspear. Seeing us, he blinked twice and yelled out loud;

“Intru!” He got no further before Flynn’s arrow hurtled through his neck and he collapsed to the floor in a twitching heap.  

Behind the still-falling corpse we could see a cluster of other men rising and picking up longspears. As the first of these moved towards us, Niccoli spun round and hurled a throwing axe, striking the man in the forehead throwing him backwards and killing him instantly. Torvig fired a slingstone which struck another as they surged towards us en masse. Niccoli threw himself back at the group, sword in hand; Torvig ran in after him. 

From my position across the room, I could hear Niccoli shouting “Tom” at one of the black-robed men with spears. The reply was a snarl of “die intruder”, accompanied with a vicious stab of the spear. The stab missed completely, as Torvig and Niccoli smashed down yet more of the robed men. Even as they fell, their deaths had no effect whatsoever on the men still fighting us.

.oOo.

Suddenly, from behind me a second door burst open, and two chainmail wearing tieflngs rushed in wielding axes; and the room was abruptly filled with shadows and gloom. I could dimly see one of the horned figures dashing across the room and swinging his axe into Flynn’s side. Morgan’s return fire went wide of the mark, and he cursed and immediately blamed the shadows wreathing his opponents. Beyond, I could still hear the clanging and grunting as Niccoli was still mowing his way through his opponents.

Morgan, Niccoli and I fired a few shots at the tieflings before one of them backflipped athletically, hurtled past me up the last corridor we had not yet explored. Flynn followed and then cursed as his arrow comprehensively missed its target.

Still under fire, the tiefling pulled out a key and unlocked a padlocked door before Flynn dashed out and stabbed the half-breed through the throat. For his efforts he was rewarded by the now unlocked double doors bursting open as a truly massive boar; its tusks capped with riveted iron, hurtled out and gored him deeply. Alarmed, Flynn dashed back to us in the main room whilst Torvig smashed the other tiefling to the floor with his Morningstar. Niccoli returned from the other room, bleeding freely from an upper arm injury.

I used some of my magic to heal Niccoli, as behind me the bellowing behemoth slammed into Flynn a second time, wounding him very badly indeed. Torvig stepped forwards and touched him, releasing healing energies into Niccoli and bring him back nearly to the point of full health. 

Just to one side of me, Morgan began to chant a new series of words. He pointed, and suddenly a dark ghostly force surged out towards the dire boar, screaming a blood curdling oath as it coalesced into a thousand vengeful spirits. They flew at the boar, sailed straight over the top of it and continued down the corridor, screaming all the while.


----------



## Eccles

Gripping his bastard sword in one hand and his shield in the other, Niccoli ran towards the boar, but it reacted to him by bringing his head around to face him and slashing him across the face and neck with the huge iron tusks. Suddenly nearly at the point of death, my friend held his course, and swung his sword at the beast – the sharp blade merely bouncing off its tough hide. 

Stepping further forwards, Torvig spend the last of his greater magics to heal Niccoli. Morgan flung a series of eldritch spirits at the boar to no effect whatsoever. My arrows scraped its hide a little, but only succeeded in annoying the animal. In response to this lack of damage, Niccoli shook off his shield and delivered a massive two handed slash across its shoulder. The beast raised a titanic hoof and slammed it down – about three or four inches away from where Niccoli had been standing moments before.

The rest of us continued to be thoroughly unsuccessful in damaging the boar when yet another door opened, this one down the corridor behind the animal. A head poked out briefly, and then the door slammed shut again. 

Despite being in the darkness, the boar gouged another tear into Niccoli’s flesh. Flynn, Morgan and I continued to pour arrows in the beast’s direction as Torvig and Niccoli carried on slashing at the beast. Taking a moment from combat, Torvig tried to heal Flynn, but was distracted by the boar’s iron capped tusks as they tore into him. 

I dashed up (whilst the beast was distracted and chewing on Torvig) and cast my remaining magic onto Niccoli, patching up a few of his lesser injuries, and was therefore within inches of the titanic boar as its teeth closed on Niccoli’s jerkin. Even as I was stepping backwards again, I could see Niccoli slumping to the floor.


----------



## Eccles

Firing over my shoulder as I backed up, Flynn managed to land an arrow into the beast’s spine. It roared in pain and anger, but kept on moving up to close with Torvig. In response, Torvig pulled out his Morningstar and managed to break off one of the tusks as we continued to shoot at the beast. 

Teeth and tusk scraped along the edge of Torvig’s shield as Flynn managed to sink another arrow into the creature’s eye – again the beast bellowed, but it kept on moving, turning its massive head and sinking its teeth into Torvig’s throat. There was a gout of blood, and the dwarf collapsed to the floor.

Behind me, Morgan concluded a brief chant and then fired a rapid crossbow shot. The bold slammed through the roof of the beast’s mouth and sank into the brain with pinpoint accuracy. With a shudder, the creature exhaled and crashed to the floor.

.oOo.

Dashing forwards, I managed to grab Niccoli around the chest, pinning the torn flesh in place and stopping the bleeding, leaving my friend in a colossal pool of blood. Morgan and Niccoli moved in to assist Torvig, whose life was also slipping away rapidly. The two struggled over what to do for some moments, as Torvig’s pulse became weaker and weaker, until Morgan (with a worrying knowledge of the human anatomy) was able to stop the bleeding from the cleric’s throat. 

We dragged the pair of them back to the winch-platform, and hoisted ourselves up, tying bells to the chain in the centre to warn of anyone climbing up or down. Beneath us, we could see figures moving around the base of the shaft, clutching torches and moving bodies; two figures in heavy armour together with still more of the axe wielding tieflings and a pair of lumbering zombies.

We tried our best to rest, barely getting any sleep in the close quarters of the elevator shaft. In the morning, Torvig and Niccoli were still unconscious, until my day’s spells proved just enough to bring the pair of them to life. Torvig then emptied his own repertoire to make himself, Niccoli and Flynn fully healthy.


----------



## Eccles

I grasped the winch, the others ringing around me. As we descended carefully, Morgan began to use his own spells. Once again, the spectral figure wrapped its arms and robe around the mage, even as he summoned more ghostly energies and breathed them into his lungs, colouring his flesh and energising him.

We began to move faster, finally hurtling down as fast as we could safely manage before hurtling into the occupied room beneath us. As we burst into the torchlight, Morgan flung his latest abomination of a spell at the armoured woman. Closer to, we could see that she was heavily scarred and carried a heavy symbol of Hextor. The male figure was a large half orc in similar armour, whilst two undead and a trio of tieflings stood in a ring around the base of the elevator. 

Transfixed by Morgan’s spell, the woman was surrounded by a hundred gibbering spirits, which began tormenting her and pulling at her hair. The others on the platform with me poured fire into the woman, and as the arrows slammed home the tiny spirits began to pull at the wounds, pulling gashes open and delighting in the flow of blood from her body. 

On the other side of the room, the half orc quaffed a potion, and his outline became uncertain and blurred. Even as the female cleric hurled a spell at us to dispirit us, I began to chant in encouragement of my comrades. Morgan flung another spell out, this time at the half orc, and we could see the hulking figure’s eyes turn milky white in blindness.

Amidst heavy fire from below (mostly slamming into the underside of the platform), we crashed down to within 10 feet of the ground. Niccoli leapt off the platform and stumbled across to the woman and hacked her head off with one brutal swipe of his sword. The orc swallowed another potion, and a black energy surrounded him with its dark protections. More spells and arrows flew as Morgan’s spirits drained the very life energy from the orc, draining it of a huge amount of strength. In response, the three tieflings began to fire their longbows at the wizard, striking him and removing much of the protective spirit energies coursing through his system.

.oOo.

Seeing that the big orc was blinded, I cast one of my minor cantrips, creating a number of voices and noises of swords and armour all around the orc, which caused him to swing blindly around him. As I was casting this, Morgan began to use a cantrip of his own, dazing one of the tieflings; the other two shot at him and missed. Niccolih, meanwhile, came under assault by the two shambling zombies.

A light began to blaze above us as gallons of burning oil was poured from hundreds of feet above us to land on the wooden platform. I leapt off the platform, whilst Flynn evaded the oil; Morgan and Torvig weren’t as lucky, taking burns from the flaming liquid as it splattered around them. Now on the floor, I copied Morgan by dazing one of the tieflings with a cantrip. Torvig jumped off the platform and joined Niccoli in battle with the zombies before Morgan cast one of his larger spells; a single large spirit hurtling at the half-fiend, who fled from the ghost, running in fear down one of the corridors.

Spending my last spell in dazing another tiefling, I saw Torvig and Niccoli drop one of the zombies and move onto another. I nocked an arrow and started chanting once more. At about the same time, the spell of noise affecting the orc expired, and I began to duck into and then back out of his reach, giving him another target to swing at. Behind me, the second heavy zombie body crashed to the floor.

My arrows starting flying in the general direction of the tielfing standing there (the second having been shot by Flynn’s more accurate missile fire), whilst Morgan once again managed to dazzle the half-blood with one of his cantrips. Behind me, Niccoli dropped his shield and dashed across the room; hacking the half-orc from shoulder to hip in one enormous two-handed slash.

Arrows flew, sword and spear stabbed out, and finally we were left with one tiefling to defeat – the one which had fled, and was now shooting at us from the far end of the large room with the pool of dark liquid. We began a shooting battle with him as Flynn crept towards the fiend. Most of our arrows went wild, until Flynn fired a single shot which took the tiefling at the throat, and the fight was over.


----------



## Morrus

Excellent update, Nik!  You managed to convey the sheer hecticness of that session really well!


----------



## Aurora

Damn good fight! Low levels when you can kill something with one shot are so much fun! Of course, the trade-off is that you can die with one great shot as well! (As a first level character of mine almost found out last night!). 
Great update! Do you just have one heck of a good memory, do you fudge the details a bit, or do you take really good notes?


----------



## kroh

I'm wondering if I could hire Morgan to teach me that trick for how to cast the tormenting spirits.  I could use it at my workplace.

Regards, 
Walt


----------



## Eccles

Aurora said:
			
		

> Damn good fight! Low levels when you can kill something with one shot are so much fun! Of course, the trade-off is that you can die with one great shot as well! (As a first level character of mine almost found out last night!).
> Great update! Do you just have one heck of a good memory, do you fudge the details a bit, or do you take really good notes?




That fight was pretty much entirely from notes - I get to sit there for 4/5 of a fight, so note taking is easy. I have to fudge conversations, as I can be involved in them, and therefore have to try to guess what I might have said...


----------



## Darmanicus

Aurora said:
			
		

> Damn good fight! Low levels when you can kill something with one shot are so much fun! Of course, the trade-off is that you can die with one great shot as well! (As a first level character of mine almost found out last night!).




The fight was really enjoyable, I seem to have forgotten the joys of low level stuff and just how effective even cantrips can be! Morrus also has a way of describing the bad guys in a way where we're always on a back foot and quite edgy until we've nearly killed everything



			
				Aurora said:
			
		

> Great update! Do you just have one heck of a good memory, do you fudge the details a bit, or do you take really good notes?




I've got to hand it to Eccles, he really does do some furious scribbling during our sessions and so far I reckon this SH has been spot on.



			
				kroh said:
			
		

> I'm wondering if I could hire Morgan to teach me that trick for how to cast the tormenting spirits. I could use it at my workplace.




Depends on where you work.....I might do it for free   

Seriously though I decided I wanted spirit/ghost visuals for my spells and came up with one or two ideas however Eccles really surprised me with some of the other stuff. I particularly liked the armoured spirit wrapping its cloak about me....or giving me a hug, (for Mage Armour)!!!


----------



## Aurora

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> I particularly liked the armoured spirit wrapping its cloak about me....or giving me a hug, (for Mage Armour)!!!



That is really cool. In a similar vein, in my husband's SH, he and the co-writer write healing from a cleric as an "embrace" from the cleric's chosen god. It comes out really cool the way they do it. Sounds a lot better than "So and so cast healing" or "Morgan cast mage armor", ya know.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

It was one hell of a hectic session...

Think things would have gone much better for us if that boar had stayed locked up. Was a real horror to fight... Although in fairness, it was behind a locked and chained door, so we'd have certainly opened it at some point. Might have been a treasury or something?

Now things get interesting. Trapped in an underground temple, heavily injured and with no magic left...   

And reckon Eccles (Nik) has been very accurate with the accountings he's made. It's a fine piece of work!


----------



## Dpulse303

Hehe you are all gonna love the next update ! im looking forward to Eccles write up.
i wont spoil it for ya ...but wo intense!!


----------



## Morrus

Yeah, it was an intense session.  I can't wait to see it!


----------



## Tamlyn

Morrus said:
			
		

> I can't wait to see it!




Neither can I!


----------



## Darmanicus

Dpulse303 said:
			
		

> Hehe you are all gonna love the next update ! im looking forward to Eccles write up.
> i wont spoil it for ya ...but wo intense!!




Bah!


----------



## Dpulse303

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> Bah!



lol


----------



## Eccles

Taking a few moments in the well of the elevator, we untied Old Tom, the captive cultist Niccoli had recognised. Once slapped awake, he glared around at us, and began to tell us that we were all dead men.

“Hextor will destroy you all,” he raved. “His power is all consuming and ultimate, and you are but specks in his sight. You mean nothing, and he will crush you as easily as he might blink.”

It didn’t take long for us all to tire of this ranting, and we began to ask him questions. He announced that he had been worshipping Hextor for centuries, and was awaiting his chance to be adopted into the priesthood. This caused Torvig particular amusement, as he had been called to serve Fahrlanghn at the tender dwarven age of 28. Suggestions that Old Tom was clearly unworthy of the God of Slaughter were met with more promises of our destruction. 

When we asked the old man about the temple he was in, he told us (between death threats) that he didn’t leave often. They were given amusement by combats to the death in the ‘battle temple’. 

Flynn began to sharpen his knives…


----------



## Eccles

Pushing Tom ahead of us, we began to explore a series of rooms, whose occupants we had already defeated. The first was a small room with 2 beds, some part-made leather armour and an empty weapons rack. I helped Torvig look around the room, and he was lucky enough to find a large stash of gold in a bag concealed within one of the mattresses. 

The next room belonged to the boar, and stank of rotting food, blood and dung. In the centre of the room was a low stalagmite which flickered with flame along its entire length, clearly enchanted by some means. Despite searching the room, Flynn and Torvig (who deemed to take great delight in the dung for some unfathomable dwarven reason) found nothing of interest.   

The next door we came to was locked, but not for long when we realised that the key we had taken from the tieflings matched the lock. Flynn snuck down the short narrow corridor, listened at the door at the far end, and then put a finger to each temple to indicate a tiefling beyond the door. He then began to work his way up the wall wedging himself by the ceiling; sword in hand.

To cover the fact that Niccoli and Torvig were marching in heavy armour down the narrow corridor, I shouted “Hextor triumphs, come and help with the bodies!” in the closest approximation I could manage to the female cleric’s voice. It seemed to work, as the door flew open and a voice could be heard inside calling for others to help. He was immediately stabbed by Flynn, but stayed upright, leaving two more worried-looking tieflings standing behind him.

Arrows and blades flashed, but one of the three half-demons dashed through a door at the back of the room and bolted it behind him, shouting all the while. Niccoli and Torvig moved forwards into the room, and I moved to block the door behind them. Just to my right, there was a clattering crash as Flynn fell off the wall, trying to cling to the ceiling whilst using his bow at the same time.

Once the two tieflings in the room had been dispatched, we moved to block the door and looked at our resources.

The fight at the foot of the elevator had cost us dearly. Many of us were injured, Morgan, Torvig and I were all out of magics, and Niccoli would not be able to take a serious axe-swing from one of the tieflings. We pulled back to the cultists’ room and barred the door behind us, leaving Flynn outside in hiding to keep an eye out for movement.


----------



## Eccles

3 hours later, Flynn tapped on the other side of the door and slipped into the room. He whispered that there was a tall man approaching with 4 more of the tieflings and a man in robes. He described them coming down the corridor and checking each of the rooms as they passed them, closing inexorably on ours.

Far too soon, we heard them get to our door. There was a brief push against it, then a muttered conversation. We heard one of them say that he would not risk forcing the door – that they would wait for us to come to them. Later, there was a faint chanting, and checks confirmed that a significant spell had been cast on the door, which would cause it to explode violently if we opened it.

.oOo.

We waited through another night’s nervous and fitful rest before using most of our spells once again to recover to full health. Spells of enhancement were cast, Morgan was wreathed in spirits once more, and Torvig cast spells to make himself hit harder and Niccoli stay up and fight more accurately. I began to chant, and unrolled a scroll. Just before we opened the door, Morgan scrutinised it with magic. On the other side, he announced, was a rune of protection, which would explode (possibly killing several of us) when the door was opened.

We all stood back, and let Morgan magic the door open with a cantrip. The door’s explosion sent it hurtling into the room beyond on a wall of flame; and battle was joined. My scroll sent a wall of sound into the room, perhaps not battering the eardrums of the tieflings and mage as much as I might have wanted, but it did leave several of them looking dazed, and my friends were swift to capitalise on the situation.

As Morgan cast a spell of fear on one tiefling, the cleric of Hextor we could now clearly see cast a spell of enchantment on his own shield. His spell worked, but Morgan’s was totally unsuccessful. Arrows arced past Morgan from the tieflings, Niccoli and Torvig ran in the other direction, sword and morningstar swinging past the stunned tieflings. 

My effort was no better; my spell to make the wizard’s speech garbled and mess up his spellcasting failed, whilst Flynn unlimbered his bow once more, muttering “save against this, you #%*&”, and shooting him.

More spells flew; Morgan managing to make one tiefling run for its life, whilst the enemy cleric began to summon something. The robed wizard unrolled a scroll, read from in and pointed in my direction – to my absolute horror a roiling, roasting ball of fire leaped from his outstretched finger, filling the entire room I was in with flame, seriously injuring Morgan, causing me considerable pain, and apparently having no effect whatsoever on Flynn. How he’d avoided it was anybody’s guess, but judging from Morgan’s burns then my wizardly friend had probably shielded Flynn from the blast.

A heavily enchanted Niccoli ran past the tieflings on seeing this, ducking their swings, and then missing the wizard completely himself. I fired my bow at someone in the room beyond, but then….


----------



## Eccles

…A positively enormous chitin-plated silverback gorilla materialised in the room right next to me. The thing was titanic, a full 11 feet to the shoulder and hulking with muscle. One colossal arm reached around and nearly twisted my head off in a single blow. Niccoli turned to face the beast, his face contorting into a rictus of horror, as he cast a spell at it – the beast’s eyes went milky as it was blinded. Morgan then made for the door to the room but was simply not fast enough. He took three steps before one of the dire ape’s colossal arms stretched out, grabbed him around the torso and slammed his head repeatedly against the doorframe. 

Morgan fell to the floor, and didn’t move. Across the other side of the main room, things went from bad to worse as Niccoli was blinded in turn by the enemy wizard.

I crept out, ducking under the ape’s huge arms and snagging Morgan’s spellbook on the way. As I moved, my ribs felt like they were afire. I could see Torvig and Flynn finally take down one of the tieflings between them, but that wasn’t a lot to celebrate.

I then turned to a new noise. The cleric was chanting again. I heard a colossal ‘BANG’ noise, and then all went dark.

.oOo.

I awoke. It was dark, and my back was to the stone floor. Something was being poured into my throat, and I could see Flynn’s face suddenly lurch out of the gloom, smiling grimly at me. I sat up, wiping blood out of my clogged ears and looked around me. Flynn was horrifically injured, as was Niccoli, who was just finishing off a potion of his own. Behind me, Torvig and Morgan were prone and unmoving. 2 of my oldest friends lay dead.


----------



## Dpulse303

Alas poor Torvig I knew him well....
It was a mental fight and almost a tpk.
i hope Eccles sir that you are going to elaborate on the fight (from a third persons p.o.v)of course i would dearly like to read of my exploits mr Bard lol.


----------



## kroh

Holy Poop!  You guys got smoked!  What lays in store for our intrepid heroes now!!!???

Regards, 
Walt


----------



## Eccles

These things will happen when the opposing cleric casts a 4th level spell and summons a dire ape next to the 2 arcane casters, immediately after we were hit with a fireball...

Not a single thing went right in that fight until I was flattened. Niccoli and I both managed to stabilise naturally whilst the cleric with an AC of 25 mashed the rest of the party in HtH...


----------



## Hairball

Eccles said:
			
		

> ... 2 of my oldest friends lay dead.




Wow!  Any chance you can get them back to that sarcophagus in the other dungeon?  The one that saved Morgan last time he got pasted.


----------



## Morrus

Hopefully you'll all get chance to see what happened in between Niccoli falling unconscious and waking it up again.  It was _extremely_ dramatic!


----------



## Eccles

Hairball said:
			
		

> Wow!  Any chance you can get them back to that sarcophagus in the other dungeon?  The one that saved Morgan last time he got pasted.




Unfortunately, careful scrutiny of that thing showed that it used a lot of juice last time. It basically has a 99 year recharge time. So Flynn might manage it with the advantage of elf-time, but not for the purposes of world-saving.



			
				Morrus said:
			
		

> Hopefully you'll all get chance to see what happened in between Niccoli falling unconscious and waking it up again. It was extremely dramatic!




I had a word with Flynn's player (Dpulse), who may get a chance to do something along those lines this evening. He does get to claim the glory for that particular victory...


----------



## Dpulse303

Excrepts from the journal of Flynne 

As the battle was joined by a hulking 10 ft tall ape mysteriously appearing by my friends in the room we had taken refuge in, i new the status quo was about to be challanged,
the beast took a swing at my friend the bard and almost knocked him clear across the room.
the fireball had almost downed morgan and it was him that the creature now focused its attention, obviously under the control of the summoner and eager to do his bidding.
Morgan sensing this focused his magic and with a word of power bllinded the creature ,
this merely put it off its swing for a few seconds as a massive fist conected with my frail friend taking him in the chest and sending him sprawling with a wet crunch.

As the bard jumped over the downed Morgan he deftly swiped the necromancers spell book , safe keeping maybe? and came and took cover behind me , I reached out and dragged the very still morgan out of the room and slammed the door on the huge ape ,
figuring that it would not be able to get through the doorway, and returned my concentration to the melee trying to get a good shot at the cleric ,who was evading most of the blows being aimed at him, hardly any of my arrows could penetrate the almost ghostly armour that enveloped his form and he continued to worry us.

At this point the sound of thunder echoed through the sepulchre and almost took me off my feet ,unfortunately it did take the bard and he slumped to the floor mortally wounded as a rolling ball of thunder washed over us.
A Death rattle came from Morgans body as the last vestiges of life escaped his form and a furry form freed itself from his robe , the weasel was enraged!

I could hear a fight taking place down the corridor that Niccoli had dashed down after the fell mage and soon he returned gingerly feeling his way along the wall i looked to his face for an indication of the trouble and his eyes were a pure white , Blind! things were going from bad to worse.
after dropping the last tieflings the three of us that were left standing could manuvre our way round the cleric to come at him from all sides, including the weasel !which was trying to bite the cleric. 
Proving very hard to hit, i think Torvig managed a few lucky blows so he was the focus of attack , then torvig took a mighty blow that winded him severly followed by another and another , this proved to much for our stout friend and he dropped to the floor badly wounded and bleeding profusely.
 Looking to Niccoli and resigning myself to never seeing the sunlight again i doubled my efforts to hit the  Cleric , Niccoli connected with a mighty blow that got throught the chinks in the armoured clerics defenses sending him reeling unfortunately we were unable to capitalise on this as he surged back towards us with a murderous look in his eyes .
Niccoli in his blind state was still a fierce fighter and kept on swinging  unfortunately the cleric was able to turn aside the undirected blows and his armour was proving very hard for me to penetrate with my rapier.
then the worst thing that could of happened, happened,in his blind state Niccoli could not see the swing that he would have normally side-stepped and almost walked into the path of the clerics heavy mace as it swung into his side gasping he dropped to his knees the breath knocked from him and the life draining from him slowly as his last action he tried to staunch the flow of blood that was leaking from torvig, in vain though and another death rattle could be heard as torvig joined his god.

 At this point i noticed that Morgans weasel had latched onto the cleric and he was trying to get it off, ignoring me!? looking closer i could see fatigue and bloodloss was taking its toll on  the cleric and he was moving less swiftly , eventually he threw the weasel to the floor and trod on it then it was me he turned to , trading blows and misses  equally i thought our cockatrice was cooked and we would all die nameless in this subteranian temple to Hextor then a strike took me in the thigh staggering me and making me take a step back ,
pressing forward eager to make the kill that would be the end of me he lifted his weapon high 
to bring it down on my head ,
thankfully i was able to duck in and under his attack , being so close to him i was able to see his eyes through the visor of his helmet and i coulod smell the foul stink that was his breath, this gave me a sudden passion for the life i would leave behind if i was not quick.
Gripping my quicksteel i bought it up inside and managed to find the gap between his chest piece and helmet , the sweet spot id been after ,blood blossomed on his lips as the blade did its work and went up under his chin driving through his brain and only stopping when it hit the inside of his helmet.
As the light faded from his eyes i let his body slump to the ground and quickly turned my attention to my fallen comrades,
scanning the corpses for any of the potions i had seen the enemy quaffing i found three and with no thought for myself i emptied the contents down the throats of the two that still had a chance of living.
Finally after a few minutes Niccoli opened his white eyes ,still groggy he felt his way over to me and said "who is that? did we win?" i gripped his shoulder and confirmed that yes we had won but at a cost then the bard opened his eyes and i smiled gently down at him giving reasurance that we would fight another day.
collecting our selves and after resting for a while i explored the area to discover that we had cleared the Hextor "area" and gathered some loot that was to be had then we made ourselves comfy as best we could and rested propperly. 
  :\     


Flynne.


----------



## Eccles

Good job, sir! Thanks!

For those of you reading this, the party was left with Morgan (dead), Torvig (dead), me (-7hp), Niccoli (-6hp), and Flynne (it's spelled with an 'e'? Who knew?) on 4 hp. Oh, and the weasel died, too...

Back calculations showed that if that weasel hadn't done 3hp of damage, the cleric would have survived Flynne's attack and most likely killed him...


----------



## Darmanicus

Good job Dave.

Nik the weasel was only down to -1. I'm sure he's gonna scurry off somewhere now to go find a girly weasel.......bless the lary little tyke.


----------



## kroh

Do any of the heroes know anyone close enough to the town that could bring the group back from the brink?  It is an awful shame to lose such cool characters.  When is the next game session and is there any word on what is going to happen next?

Regards, 
Walt


----------



## Tamlyn

Eccles said:
			
		

> Good job, sir! Thanks!
> 
> For those of you reading this, the party was left with Morgan (dead), Torvig (dead), me (-7hp), Niccoli (-6hp), and Flynne (it's spelled with an 'e'? Who knew?) on 4 hp. Oh, and the weasel died, too...
> 
> Back calculations showed that if that weasel hadn't done 3hp of damage, the cleric would have survived Flynne's attack and most likely killed him...




Wow. Just...wow.


----------



## Eccles

kroh said:
			
		

> Do any of the heroes know anyone close enough to the town that could bring the group back from the brink?  It is an awful shame to lose such cool characters.  When is the next game session and is there any word on what is going to happen next?
> 
> Regards,
> Walt




We're at the bottom of a mine shaft, at the top of which someone is tipping burning oil down on us. We didn't find another way out from the back of the complex.

I don't *think* the town's big enough to have a cleric that powerful, and we're certainly not wealthy enough to afford the diamonds. 

I think we're waiting for providence to provide in the form of new characters, suspiciously like the old ones...


----------



## Hairball

Eccles said:
			
		

> I don't *think* the town's big enough to have a cleric that powerful, and we're certainly not wealthy enough to afford the diamonds.




Even if the town isn't big enough, the DM could arrange to have one passing through.  As far as finances...

_ <insert wizened old cleric voice>  "Oh you're "financially impaired" eh?  Well not too worry, I'm sure we can work something out.  As a matter of fact, I could use some assistance with a small matter, a mere trifling.  It will probably only take a couple of days.  I'm sure you'd have no trouble with it.  Encountered many outsiders have you?" _



As a DM, nothing's more fun then player characters in a bind...


----------



## kroh

> As a DM, nothing's more fun then player characters in a bind...




You are this weeks Quote of the Week winner!  Nicely Said!

Regards,
Walt


----------



## Hairball

kroh said:
			
		

> You are this weeks Quote of the Week winner!  Nicely Said!
> 
> Regards,
> Walt




Hey thanks!!!  

Glad you liked it!


----------



## GeorgeFields

Eccles said:
			
		

> Back calculations showed that if that weasel hadn't done 3hp of damage, the cleric would have survived Flynne's attack and most likely killed him...




Nice.

The story has been great and well-written thus far. I hope to get a decent story-hour going for my next game. I'll finally be running one again after the first of the year.  I'm going to give our current GM a break and run a, hopefully, epic campaign. It's been too long.


----------



## Morrus

There was a tiny bit left off the end - nothing exciting, though, and probably not worth writing up.  They explored what was left of the complex, discovering a small temple, a battle arena, and the cleric's personal quarters.  In the battle areana, they pried a large red gem out of a statue of Hextor, and in the cleric's quarters they discovered a journal with some interesting info in it, along with a stone key and a few trinkets.

The fighter's blind, and at present there's no clear way to escape to the surface except back up the elevator - and someone has a habit of throwing flaming oil down the shaft!

Morgan and Torvig are dead, but there will be two new party members joining this week's session in their place.  I'll leave Eccles to describe that when it happens, though.


----------



## Eccles

Did ya notice how he slipped 'pried the gem out of the statue to Hextor' into that list? Hmmm...


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Nice write ups there guys!  

Good work to Dave for filling in the missing chunk.


Torvig's death was a painful one - the cleric critted with that mace of his. Then proceeded to roll 2 8's - really poor luck (for poor little Torvig). But what can ya do! 

For me, the highlight of that session was the end of that fight. Down to chance again. Flynne and the evil cleric being the only ones left standing. Both really injured. We figured it was tpk time for us... Then the evil cleric missed a couple of times - we saw Flynnes player roll a 20 - took the guy straight down. Karma or something I guess. 


There was some nasty stuff in that fight. But the Dire Ape was particularly mean! Siccing a Summon Natures Ally 4 spell on a 4th level party is mean. There's a module writer out there who needs a clip round the ear! 

Was one hell of a session!


Anyway, better get onto writing up my replacement character. Or possibly doing some work.   

And thanks again to our sexeh writers.


----------



## Sidekick

Just though I'd chip in with a hello and this is a very cool campaign.

It sucks to lose PCs, but from what I hear if you're playing AoW you better get used to it...


----------



## HandofMystra

Nice writeup. I was thinking of running AoW with a party of players, 3 of them new. I think I will tone down the SNA IV


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

HandofMystra said:
			
		

> Nice writeup. I was thinking of running AoW with a party of players, 3 of them new. I think I will tone down the SNA IV




I'm really liking this campaign... however it does seem quite lethal so far. Think if the players misjudge things, then it's likely to result in plentiful deaths? In other words, not sure how newbie friendly it is?

OOC, we found out that particular encounter could have been a lot worse!   

On the other hand - contradicting my argument - the last player Morrus introduced to DnD started on Rappun Athuk. He seemed to have a whale of a time. And thus far, RA was rather meaner than AoW.

And this does have an excellent plot so far!


----------



## Dpulse303

Cmon Eccles where is the next update.... ?
Waiting patiently.


----------



## Eccles

Should get a chance to write it tonight...


----------



## Eccles

The three of us lay in the darkened temple to an evil god, gradually recovering from our cuts and injuries and wondering what was to be done about Niccoli’s blindness. Hours passed when there came a sudden loud banging at the heavy front doors. Arrows were nocked to bows, and Niccoli was placed where he could do the most damage without having to move from place to place.

The door banged again, far heavier this time, and a deep voice bellowed out “let us in”, cracking and going shrill before the last word. Very carefully, we allowed the door to open a couple of inches, and saw a pair of scruffy mine workers beyond. One was simply average. Average height, build, hair and facial features. The other was anything but, standing nearly seven feet tall whilst barefoot, huge muscles bulging under thick green skin, the hulking half-orc must have weighed an easy 400 pounds; most of it muscle. The massive figure was topped with a small head, grinning widely with a slightly vacant expression on its face.

“Hello,” smiled the hulking monstrosity. “Me is Igmut. Igmut bring friend to help.”

We rushed to push the door closed, but the huge half orc easily pushed it wide open with one hand, allowing the other figure into the temple. This man gestured, and his features rippled strangely and he began to change. His face and torso began to stretch, hair thinning and receding as he grew in height to show a tall, gaunt man with sunken eyes who looked a little familiar.

“My name is Endo. Endo Sevestarian. I believe that my brother is somewhere in this building, and I am here to bring him back. Our mother wishes to have words with him about the owl-bear he brought home.” Hearing these words, Flynne and I glanced at one another nervously.

I tried to think of something to say; some way of breaking the news to this man that his brother was dead. Before I could find the words, however, massive green fingers latched around my skull tightly. 

“Pretty man hurt,” announced Igmut cheerfully. “Igmut and Kord help pretty man.” 

From the scalp down, healing energies flooded through my system. My head was released as the hulking form of Igmut turned to treat Niccoli to the same restorative magics. Igmut then began to pick through the items on the floor around us, snagging a greataxe and a number of items from Torvig’s pack.

Behind me, Endo picked up Morgan’s body and left the room with it, complete with the spellbook into which I had just finished inscribing Morgan’s second eulogy.


----------



## Eccles

More spells were cast, restoring us all to full health before Endo produced a scroll which he had brought with him, good for healing curses of all types, including blindness. We then explained patiently to Igmut that we needed to have ‘resty sleepy time’ – he was keen to investigate and hack something brutally to death, and kept idly swinging the huge axe one handed even as he was casting the last of his healing magic.

.oOo.

The next morning, we prepared to move on the second of the three temple doors. I was lent a marvellous hat of disguise by Endo, who had declared his intention to stay with us until such time as his half brother was avenged. Endo’s interests seemed to follow his brothers, and his talents lay in the same direction. Igmut specialised mostly in the smashing and crashing.

Using the hat, and collecting food and drinks from the back of the Hextorite temple, we dressed the others in black robes, and I disguised myself as Theldrick, the cleric who had caused us so much trouble two nights previously. 

Having recently discovered a talent for thought reading, I stretched my mind in that direction as we banged on the door, hoping to learn any passwords that we might be asked. However, there was no answer, and so we used a stone key we had discovered on Theldrick’s body to open the door and headed into a pitch-black tunnel. 

Pretending to be delivering excess stores to the Erythnul worshippers, we marched down the winding tunnel into a small cavern filled with stalagmites and stalactites, echoing with the sound of dripping water and the light from our flickering torches. My spell picked up three minds, and I ordered Igmut to carry a heavy crate into the centre of the room and block the far doorway. 

The hidden figures in the cavern shouted out at us; despite my many linguistic talents, I was unable to understand their shouts (although Endo did bellow a few responses in what he said was ‘Giantish’) before they attacked us. 

Endo produced a wand from beneath his robes, narrowly missing one of the humanoids which came running at us. The figures were crooked, carrying heavy morningstars as they ran towards us, paying no heed to the lights we were carrying. As they drew closer, we could see that their eyes were entirely glassy and pale – the figures were blind, having lived so long in the darkness that they had developed other senses to compensate.

Senses which saw through the hat of disguise, as they flung a javelin at me before out counter-attack.

The battle was brief, and Igmut was brutally violent, leaving even Niccoli’s skilful attacks far behind him in two massively powerful slashes of the greataxe. Within seconds, all three of the forms (which Endo identified as ‘Grimlocks’) were dead, and we crept onwards; Flynne leading the way.


----------



## Eccles

Endo’s hat was returned to him, and he disguised himself as a grimlock, as he could speak the language. A short distance of winding tunnels led us deeper into the complex. Flynne vanished into the darkness before us. We then heard a shout in the giant tongue, and some harsh barking noises. Flynne dashed back towards us, followed by two dog-like krenshar animals. 

As they grew near, the flesh on their faces rippled, and then peeled back, leaving us with the disgusting sight of sinew and bone. Niccoli and Flynne, who were at the front of the narrow tunnel howled in fear at this, and Flynne (always the faster to react) began to run back down the corridor, pushing past Niccoli in his efforts to escape. 

Then he bounced off the massive barrel-chest of Igmut, standing bent almost double in the tight corridor, and refusing to let either man escape. Then the grimlocks and Krenshar charged at us.

I began to chant in encouragement, whilst Endo unlimbered a crossbow. However, Endo might have shared his late brother’s magical talents, but clearly didn’t share his skills with the bow, as his bolt went wild. We were used to Morgan displaying great feats of skill (or perhaps luck) which Endo obviously didn’t share.

Igmut chanted a brief invocation to Kord, freeing Niccoli and Flynne from the fear effects of the krenshar before unlimbering his axe and flinging himself at the foe with a blood-curdling yell of fury. One axe-sweep later, and the exposed skull was caved in, and Ig was looking around for another target.

Enthused, we swept forwards and slew the foe, Niccoli and Igmut cleaving through the enemies as a lethal combination. There was a brief confusion when nobody could see the concealed enemy Flynne was shooting at, but eventually Ig stumbled upon him and he and Niccoli made short work of the last grimlock with their two heavy blades.

.oOo.

We looked around the small cave, and learned that one side of the room dropped immediately away into a deep chasm. We also learned that there were a pair of archers lurking in the darkness on a low shelf some 45 feet away on the other side of the chasm wall. 

We entered into a brief and lethal missile melee, hiding behind stalagmites and shooting from cover at the two grimlocks, who were accurate despite their lack of sight. The shooting became easier once Igmut had a bright idea, and tossed a small coin down towards them, his piggy eyes brightening and a huge smile crossing his fanged maw at our praise for his idea.

As the grimlocks fell to our arrows, behind us Endo began to behave strangely. He used his magical hat to look like a small and stumpy troll, and then lit a fire. Then he spent a considerable amount of time complaining about how he was hurting his hand in the fire.

As Niccoli shot the second grimlock, I headed back to the gaunt wizard, and slapped him hard across the face to make him see sense, then we returned to the matter at hand.


----------



## Eccles

The two missile-firing grimlocks’ bodies were searched by Flynne, after erecting a rope bridge which he dashed across. The lit pebble was tossed down the chasm, striking the floor some 45 feet below, amidst a group of 5 more bow-armed grimlocks. We moved back out of sight, then all leaned out to take a shot at them at the same time. When we moved to the edge, the grimlocks had disappeared.

We didn’t know whether they had fled, or were using their rocky skin to blend into the rocks as we had seen Niccoli’s foe manage in the second room.

.oOo.

We spent a little while wondering how to get down safely, before we came up with the idea of making a puppet with one of the fallen grimlocks. Ropes were tied to its arms and legs, and a cross-beam was created to lash these to. The puppet looked somehow unrealistic until Endo adjusted the positioning of some of the ropes, moving them to joints and redistributing the weight with disturbing knowledge.

Ig delighted himself by making the grimlock dance as he lowered it down the wall. When it reached the bottom, Ig made it walk up and down in jerky movements, but no challenge or attack came from around the body. We hoisted it back up again.

Endo then bent over the body curiously. He pulled at the limbs, checked its teeth, and then straightened.

“You know,” he mentioned casually. “I could make it move more naturally. I could animate the body perfectly, so we don’t need to use these clumsy ropes.” 

Niccoli blanched. Flynne grinned. I was curious, whilst Igmut smiled on obliviously. The four of us (watched by Igmut) then repeated our frequent argument about the relative merits of undead-summoning. We eventually decided that it would be OK as long as Endo was true to his word and dismissed the zombie as soon as it caused us any problems. We agreed that Endo could cast his spell.

Before he began, Endo started by casting the same suite of protective magics that we had seen Morgan cast many times in the past. The ghostly mist swirled around him, and was then breathed in, adding pallor to his cheeks and spirit to his eyes. Then the spectral cloaked figure rose around him, wrapping him in the safety of its cloak. Then he bent down next to the dead body of the grimlock. A small chip of obsidian was placed in its mouth, and the spell was cast.

Nothing happened. Then the fingers of its left hand twitched, then curled. When the fist unballed, the flesh was sloughed off the bones. A tremor shook the entire corpse, as though it was trying to fight off the magic. However, as it shook, flesh rotted or fell from the bones, falling in a putrescent mess to the floor around the body. Endo’s robes were spattered with rapidly-decaying flesh, as the head and shoulders rose from the floor, a dim red glow in the eye-sockets. Finally, the skeletal fingers gripped the morningstar, as the undead creature rose amidst us.


----------



## Eccles

The skeleton was sent down first, and nothing happened. Then we all climbed down together and explored the bottom of the cavern. The far wall of at the bottom contained another tunnel through to a cavern beyond. Halfway down on the opposite wall we had passed another tunnel, with no obvious way to get up there beyond scaling the solid rock. We took the bottom passage, and emerged into a similar cavern stretching above us. 40 feet up was a bridge, spanning a matching opening on the wall above us to a place up on the far wall. At the far side of the space, on the floor was a large pile of debris, including bones and the hilt of a weapon.

Flynne dashed across to the pile to look at the items, when suddenly a grey rubbery tentacle-like hand stretched down from the ceiling above. It missed Flynne, and a second pair of similar rubbery hands stretched down to snatch at Niccoli. 

Igmut cast another spell, call on Kord to assist Niccoli, who suddenly grew to twice his height. His suddenly 8 foot long broadsword slashed one of the dwarfed chokers off the wall in a single titanic blow. The second snagged him around the throat, bit its hands looked tiny around his neck. He tore it down from the wall, and threw it to the floor, where it was rapidly killed by Igmut’s axe and his own stomping.

.oOo.

Flynne climbed up to the upper passageway and rope-ladder. He was there for a matter of seconds before climbing back down again, chased by a heavy-set grimlock woman waving a pair of rusty knives. She fired a slingstone at us before drinking a potion and then stepping back out of sight.

We split up to cover both ends of the tunnel, covering it with bows before the grimlock appeared again at my end of the passage, frothing at the mouth. She slashed at the air with the two rusty blades, before hurling herself into space. She crashed to earth 3 feet from me, stood, and then slashed me across the chest.

My stronger comrades slammed into her, and blades rose and fell repeatedly. Endo’s wand fires a black ray at the grimlock, sapping her strength as spirits writhed around the beam of the spell. Showing no sign of slowing down, the grimlock woman carried on slashing out with her two knives, biting hard into flesh into her frenzy. Igmut and Niccoli were equal to the task, however – they stood fast and slashed back, before Flynne’s arrow (fired from the passage she had leapt down from) pierced the top of her head, and she slumped to the floor.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Thanks for another fine writeup there Mr Eccles! 

Was a very Grimloc and slaughter heavy session there... nasty little gits!

Think Darminicus and I ought to write up a bit and explain how we arrived at the party with a scroll of remove blindness... there's a method to it!


----------



## Darmanicus

Even if I have to go through the entire Adams/Sevestarian family, I WILL get some mileage out of a necromancer!


----------



## GeorgeFields

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> Even if I have to go through the entire Adams/Sevestarian family, I WILL get some mileage out of a necromancer!




Good luck! I've never had one reach 2nd level.


----------



## Dpulse303

Another fine write up , just a few things id like to add if i may cos they were quite good if i may say so... the first room we came to with the three grimlocks in , it was i who blocked the exit from the tunnel and i also took one of the grimlocks out with a sniper shot as id hidden and moved to the exit for just such a purpose. In the second room where id got scared of the doggy things , after the combat had finished it was a tightrope i spanned the gap with using a grappling iron to fasten on the ledge opposite , i then ran over it ... Igmuts bright idea was a lighted coin that he tossed over to let us see what we were firing at.

Also it would seem that Im dashing or running to get the loot first , its not like that at all... no one else seems capable of finding the bloody stuff though and im not for the sake of looking a bit more "p.c" gonna go "whats that there glinting in the shadows , go and have a look would ya" whenever somethings "glinting in the shadows" and nobody else spots it ! 



Besides who ever heard of a greedy rouge??....


----------



## Eccles

Dpulse raises a good point there.

He is the only one in the party with a spot check. Or a search check.

He also achieves a lot of kills by stealth. 

Unfortunately, as much of my note taking (and therefore these writeups) are done from my character's point of view, and I'm usually at the back ineffectually firing my bow at things (and thanks to the aforementioned lack of spot checks), a few of Flynne's titanic sneak attacks have gone unmentioned. I just count up the bodies afterwards. Or limbs, now that we have Igmut on the crew!


----------



## Darmanicus

GeoFFields said:
			
		

> Good luck! I've never had one reach 2nd level.




4th now bud.....1st incarnation hit 3rd! 

Thnaks for your wishes though.


----------



## Darmanicus

Dpulse303 said:
			
		

> Also it would seem that Im dashing or running to get the loot first , its not like that at all... no one else seems capable of finding the bloody stuff




Too right Flynne, you don't dash or run at all, at 3rd level you purchsed the following feat.............

*GREEDY BASTARD:* :A character with this feat is extraordinarly quick at "mopping up" after a victory. As soon as all perceived enemies have been overcome in any given combat, the character automatically wins initiative in the rush to search bodies and subsequently claim treasure rights.  This feat also grants a +100 bonus to land movement in the above situation and multiple actions if needed if there are multiple corpses to loot.

Luvs ya really mate


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Generally, I'd say a sneaky arrow attack from Flynne opens most fights - IIRC, that initiative total is quite silly? +9 or something? 

For me, the crowning attack was still that last blow on the cleric o doom. That rocked.


----------



## Morrus

A greta session tonight - a cool tactical set-piece battle, amongst other things.  Another combat-heavy session.  I enjoyed it immensely.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Was a fun one! Enjoyed this whole grimloc temple complex a lot. That first set piece was great stuff... amazing how difficult a bit of awkward terrain can make something!

Done a write up for Igmut over in the rogues gallery... I probably should be doing some work, but it's Friday and I'm bored.


----------



## Tamlyn

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> Was a fun one! Enjoyed this whole grimloc temple complex a lot. That first set piece was great stuff... amazing how difficult a bit of awkward terrain can make something!
> 
> Done a write up for Igmut over in the rogues gallery... I probably should be doing some work, but it's Friday and I'm bored.




Wow. Where can I find a Vorpal Flying Castle of Speed?


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Tamlyn said:
			
		

> Wow. Where can I find a Vorpal Flying Castle of Speed?




Dammit - figured if it got left a couple of weeks before anyone noticed then I could keep it!

It beheads kingdoms on a natural 20.


----------



## Gold Roger

One question I-AL:

Why a greataxe when Kords favored weapon is the greatsword?

Just curious.


----------



## Eccles

We scaled the wall and stood at the edge of the three strand rope ladder. Swaying slightly in the slight breeze, the three aging ropes led some 50 feet across the chasm and up to a ledge on the other side. We couldn’t see what was on the ledge, as it was too far above us, and the age and decay of the ropes suggested that we shouldn’t go across it in too great a number.

Flynne almost casually pranced across the thin ropes, leaving the rest of us standing watching him and wondering hoe to get across. He began to reach the upwards curve on the ropes, over halfway across, when a number of javelins sailed out of the darkness to meet him. 

Balancing on the ropes, Flynne grapped for his grappling hook, whirled it over his head and sent it sailing towards the unseen figures on the ledge. A furry hand snagged the ropes, and Flynne pulled hard on the ropes. The hand vanished back beyond the lip of the ledge; unseen to any of us but Flynne. The effects of the figure could be seen, however. Flynne struggled to pull at the rope, but was unable to pull the grimlock off the ledge. After a few seconds, the rope came free.

Flynne leapt off the rope bridge under a withering hail of javelins; 40 feet below him the dangling grappling hook shot upwards, pulled by his weight. It hurtled past the falling Flynne and snagged on the rope ladder, which bent under the sudden pressure, pulling taught and slowing the last few feet of Flynne’s descent.

40 feet beneath us, Flynne released his grip on the rope and stepped casually to the ground. The bridge and rope shot upwards, the grappling hook flew free and crashed to earth 3 feet from Flynne. The elf brushed down his tunic and bent to pick up his equipment.

Beside me in the narrow tunnel, Endo’s face warped as he turned into the form of a drow elf. For no good reason. 

Time passed.


----------



## Eccles

From the chasm below, Flynne’s grappling hook sailed up and bounced off the rock ledge. He threw again, and this time it caught – he began to climb. Igmut descended to the chasm floor and stood by waiting for his turn to climb up to the ledge.

Almost immediately, a grimlock appeared in sight on the opposite side of the chasm. The creature produced a dagger and moved to saw at the grappling hook’s rope. We all fired our bows at the figure, and although only Niccoli’s shot made contact, the creature pulled back.

By unspoken consent, most of the group began to advance. Flynne continued to climb his rope, whilst Endo moved out gingerly along the rope bridge. As he closed, a cry of rage came from the other side; the creatures were clearly enraged by Endo’s drow-like image. Javelins shot out form the darkness at him, as he cast a spell then fired a wand at the enemies which he could see from his position. 

I began a chant of encouragement, lending a touch of confidence to Niccoli, who began to gingerly edge out onto the rope bridge. The ropes sagged alarmingly – clearly it would not be safe for more than two people to go onto the ropes at the same time. 

Beneath us, there was a crashing noise followed by a torrent of swearing in elvish as Flynne fell off his rope. Igmut stepped up to take his place and began climbing hand over hand up the rope. Flynne backed up and began to fire arrows overhead; miraculously we heard a shout of pain from beyond the lip of the unseen tunnel. 

Opposite us, one grimlock could be seen briefly, as he came into my view to saw at the grapple. The rope was severed, and Ig fell hard to the floor below. Two javelins sailed out, and one of them struck Endo. He responded by casting a spell, pointing at the unseen enemies. A terrifying spectre shot from his outstretched finger towards the ledge and he was rewarded with screaming. Whatever it was he had done was sufficient to send one of the grimlocks fleeing loudly down the corridor; equally as much a blessing as a potential curse if it alerted any more enemies.

Endo then began to unleash blasts of dark energy from his wand as Niccoli stepped off the other end of the rope bridge, bastard sword in hand.


----------



## Eccles

By this stage, Niccoli was out of sight on the other side of the rope bridge, clearly in combat with the unseen grimlocks. Towards the far side of the bridge stood Endo, who was aiming a further shot with his wand up beyond Niccoli. Flynne had climbed up to me and was aiming his bow towards the ledge. Igmut finally clambered his way up to my side of the bridge, and I used the recently captured wand to cure him of the worst of his ills.

Abandoning an almost impossible shot, Flynne dashed nimbly across the ropes and flung a tanglefoot bag up into the opening. Endo fired another dark beam into the gap, and form his grim smile I could see that he had struck his mark with the wand-spell. 

Flynne continued his headlock dash and stepped up to join Niccoli on the ledge and the sounds of the sword-fight grew louder. I was left alone on my side, singing songs of encouragement to Igmut as he stepped onto the edge of the bridge causing the ropes to sag alarmingly.

Still singing encouragement, and unable to shoot safely now that my friends had reached the ledge, I could see no other way to contribute. I began to paint lipstick onto Endo’s skeleton follower, managing to find a scrap of white material to look like a veil. Strange things come into your mind at the most inappropriate of times…

.oOo.

On the other side of the chasm, one of the grimlocks sailed out into space, screaming as he fell to earth with a crash. He lay there still. Clearly things were going well in the darkness. The tables would be turning all the faster once Igmut slammed onto the ledge with his longspear in hand. Endo changed his appearance into that of a Halfling before making a wobbly few steps onto the ledge as well.

I dashed across the bridge to join them, to see no less than 4 dead grimlocks, with the 5th fleeing at speed down a narrow winding tunnel. We gave chase into a large cavern with three other exits. And one dead grimlock. Niccoli and Igmut wiped down their blades, just in time to ready them again as still more grimlocks poured out of one of the tunnels. 

Niccoli spun and hacked two of the grimlocks to the floor in a single sweeping blow of his bastard sword, before Flynne materialised out of the shadows to fire an arrow through the throat of a third. Not to be outdone, Igmut hacked down another with his axe. Fearlessly, the two remaining grimlocks pressed forwards. Endo once again changed form, appearing once again as a drow.

After I had healed Niccoli with the wand, he stepped forwards, slashing down first one, and then the other of the surviving grimlocks. The battle was over within moments, and we headed off the way the enemies had come. 

The passageway led to a smelly bedchamber filled with mouldy rags and furs. In there, Igmut carefully checked his prized possession (“The Big Book of Kord”), reading the words laboriously and tracing every one with his finger. Satisfied, he closed the book with a thump, and then grabbed Endo and his skeleton by their scalps. He frowned as he spoke unfamiliar words.

“By the words of Kord and the power inves… given to me, I pronounce you man and wife. You are now a lawfully married skeleton.” Thus satisfied that the skeleton was ‘permitted’, Ig picked up his axe again and ceased worrying about the undead in our midst.


----------



## Eccles

We retraced our steps, and made our way down another of the corridors, this time emerging into a large cave with some glowing embers at the far side, partially wreathed in thick smoke. Three large grimlocks were given orders by an unseen fourth figure, and they lumbered towards us. Each was easily a foot taller than their fellows, and they wore heavy bronze armour and carried longspears. 

Combat was joined with axe, sword and bow as the bronze-clad grimlocks moved to block my friends’ advance. On the other side, the fourth figure was revealed as he cast a spell surrounding himself in a swirling multi-hued glowing energy. Endo raised his wand once more and fired yet another black beam at the enemy, sapping him of strength. 

Niccoli ran forwards, and was badly hurt within seconds. The glowing colours around the distant foe deflected Flynne’s arrows, whilst I realised that my throat was too sore to continue singing. I picked up the wand and started to heal Niccoli as fast as I could manage. 

Gnashing his teeth, Igmut bellowed “KORD”, and dashed towards the foes with a mad gleam in his eyes. His mad strength made his muscles bulge, but the devastating axe-sweep went wide. 

10 feet to my left a glowing hammer of force sprang into existence, and (wholly unsupported by any hand) began to try to bash Endo’s brains out of his skull. Ignoring this, the wizard cast a spell which drove one of the grimlocks into wild throes of paranoia, casting his spear aside and wailing, his eyes rolling in his head.

.oOo.

To the left of the combat, the new “Mrs Sevestarian” ran into the fray swinging its axe. It missed, but Flynne moved to flank the same wailing paranoid enemy, stabbing the helpless foe.

On the other side of the fight, Igmut was a dervish of screaming and flailing axe-blows. His huge sweeps were sidestepped by the enemies, who could see the huge blows as they were thrown.

The grimlock cleric cast a spell at my enraged half-orc comrade, which had no obvious effect on him in his frenzy. Endo flung one back, which was similarly unsuccessful. Then Igmut managed to land a blow, killing the grimlock which he and Niccoli had both been striking at.

Endo chose that moment to use his hat of disguise once more, suddenly resembling a Halfling. He jumped the 10 foot drop to be on the same level as the fighters, turning his ankle on the uneven floor. He swore, as the glowing hammer followed him down, and once again bashing him on the head. Another of his spells took no effect on the cleric across the cavern.

Although still wounded, Niccoli dashed to join Igmut, working together to try to bring down the already spell-weakened foe. 20 feet from where they stood, Flynne and the skeleton were wearing down the still-paralysed second grimlock; the effects of Endo’s spell meaning that the armour-clad form was still clutching his ears and covering his eyes in terror at unseen enemies.


----------



## Eccles

The raging Igmut hacked down the grimlock he and Niccoli had flanked, and then he charged towards the cleric. The cleric responded by flinging another spell at the half-orc, who completely ignored its effects in his fury.

The cleric’s unholy hammer continued to smash Endo around the head, and I turned to heal his injuries with the dwindling resources of the healing-wand. Behind me, Niccoli dashed over to join Igmut, slowing in the clouds of smoke around the fire as sudden bone-sapping fatigue set in.

A loud bang suddenly rang in my ears, deafening and stunning me momentarily. When I blinked the tears out of my eyes, I could see that Flynne had managed to hack down the last bronze-armoured grimlock. All of us could turn our attentions to the cleric now. Niccoli and Igmut swiftly had the final enemy backed against the wall, desperately fighting back against their two huge blades.

.oOo.

Unseen by all of us, Flynne had drifted once more into the shadows of the rocky wall. He fired from hiding, but his arrow went wide and cracked against the wall, whilst Endo cast spells from memory and his wand at the cleric, all the while ducking the sweeps of the hammer.

Both of his spells were successful, sapping the cleric of strength, as well as ringing the grimlock with dozens of gloating spirits, all desperate to tug and tear at any wounds on his body. In retaliation, the hammer bashed Endo across the temple once more, causing his knees to sag, but the stubborn wizard kept chanting.

Across the cavern, the small cleric began to swing his morningstar in anger, laying a series of blows into Niccoli, who groaned, and then crashed to the floor in a pile of metal. I dashed forwards (suddenly feeling faint and tired in the strange-smelling smoke), and used the wand to keep the fighter alive. His eyes fluttered and opened once more.

Flynne flung his second tanglefoot bag at the cleric, which joined the arrow in being smeared all over the wall just to the cleric’s left. Igmut, breathing heavily, swing and struck the cleric, then smashed the heavy axe into him a second time. Suddenly his breathing became even more laboured, and the toll of his many injuries began to show on the half-orc’s form.

Behind me, there was a single ‘twang’, and Endo’s crossbow bolt hurtled over my shoulder to embed itself in the cleric’s eye. He gasped once, and then slumped to the floor.


----------



## Eccles

Items were snatched from the bodies by greedy hands, especially once we realised the worth of the heavily enchanted banded mail the three grimlocks had been wearing. The cleric had been carrying a silver key as well as a number of scrolls, one of which spoke of visions he had had in the smoke, saying that a great power was stirring, and that

“At last the will of the Ebon Triad be done. With the return of Kyuss, the Age of Worms is at last upon us.”

.oOo.

We spent still more of the charges from the every-weakening wand of healing, and then backed up to the third and final exit. Flynne went first, creeping down the narrow tunnel. He returned a few moments later to describe a room filled with skulls and a mound of furs, upon which sat a large and heavily scarred grimlock. 

We prepared carefully, strapping one of the suits of enchanted heavy armour onto Igmut and positioning Endo’s skeletal ‘wife’ in the corridor in front of us. Flynne then crept back down the corridor with his bow, taking a single shot and then dashing back to join us.

Judging by the bellow of rage and pain, the shot was true, and moments later the largest grimlock yet appeared in the tunnel mouth. Ignoring the arrow lodged in his left shoulder, the barbarous grimlock raised a heavy axe above his head and bellowed at us. 

“Erythnull will destroy you!”

The monstrous humanoid charged towards us, foaming at the mouth. Seconds later, ‘Mrs Sevestarian’ was on the floor in hundreds of bony shards. We all fired arrows at the creature, which shook its weapon at us and continued to threaten us.

Igmut raised his spear to block the creature should it charge, whilst Niccoli drew his heavy sword and prepared to counter-charge. Flynne, Endo and I could not believe that the creature would be so brazen as to stand and threaten us. So we shot it a second time.

Bellowing, the huge creature ran at us, taking Igmut’s set spear straight into his belly. In a burst of gore, the spear burst from the monster’s back, and he simply pushed himself along the spear, screaming into Igmut’s face all the while.

Niccoli took four paces, swung his sword, and swept his sword. One blow parted the grimlock’s head from its shoulders, and its body slumped to the floor.

The battle was over, and the temple to Erythnull had fallen. We settled back for a well-deserved rest.


----------



## Eccles

To add a little more OOC information, we've now reached level 5. Endo's player (Darmanicus) is hugely excited at the prospect of third level spells, and we're all horrified that he's probably going to be the first level 5 wizard _ever_ not to have fireball.

And to answer the question, Morrus has a house rule that in the event of death, you can either come in with all-new equipment, or take the stuff from your old character. Igmut's player Inconsequenti-Al chose to take the second option. He's therefore been wearing dwarven platemail as a breastplate, and there was no greatsword available. The damn great axe was the next best available option for a barbarian/cleric.


----------



## Dpulse303

Well done Nic great write up!


----------



## kroh

Alas, poor Mrs Sevastarian...We knew her well...

Great chapters...Keep the good times rolling!

Regards, 
Walt


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Another fine writeup there Mr Eccles! 


And quite right on the greataxe thing. Will get myself a shiny new greatsword if he lives long enough to get out of this infernal complex!


That last guy was kinda lucky - Flynnes scouting found him - and we ummed and arrred for quite a while before deciding to fight him. Took a while preparing. As soon as the fight started, we realised he was a tough opponent... Flynne opened the fight with a sneak attack arrow - which he wasn't that bothered by. He then smashed Mrs Skeleton in 1 over the top hit. Figured it was going to get bad...

I had Igmut set a spear against charge. Which critted. (Youch!). Nicolai then power attack/charged him and got another crit. Instant death.

Apologies for the mechanics, but I found it funny


----------



## GeorgeFields

Don't tell you've taken time off from the campaign for something as silly as a Thanksgiving.

WE WANT MORE UPDATES!!!


----------



## Eccles

Thanks-whatting? We're from Blighty, and know not of such things!

I did the last update early, and we played again last night. We've all gained a huge dislike of kenku rogues in a series of ambushes. Still, we reckon we've got past the easy bit of the 3rd temple...


----------



## GeorgeFields

Eccles said:
			
		

> Thanks-whatting?




Thanks-GIVING. It's something 90% of Americans have no clue about. They just use it as an excuse to get a day off from working. WORK - something 90% of Americans loathe.


----------



## Dpulse303

you played without me??
thanks a bunch guys!


----------



## Dpulse303

ignore last post as i just found out i got xp and treasure for it ... good show!!


----------



## Rafa

GeoFFields said:
			
		

> Thanks-GIVING. It's something 90% of Americans have no clue about. They just use it as an excuse to get a day off from working. WORK - something 90% of Americans loathe.




And yet, we still manage to work ourselves into illness and mental disfunction like nobody's business.  Gotta love the contradiction.  

Back on topic: updates?  Pretty please?  I love your writing-it's very engaging.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Dpulse303 said:
			
		

> ignore last post as i just found out i got xp and treasure for it ... good show!!




Yup - we sorted you out! 

Although we really did ourselves no favours trying that bit without you... it hurt a lot!   

Hope you're feeling better mate?


----------



## GeorgeFields

Rafa said:
			
		

> And yet, we still manage to work ourselves into illness and mental disfunction like nobody's business.  Gotta love the contradiction.
> 
> Back on topic: updates?  Pretty please?  I love your writing-it's very engaging.




True on both counts.


----------



## Eccles

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> Yup - we sorted you out!
> 
> Although we really did ourselves no favours trying that bit without you... it hurt a lot!




Absolutely. We went into a maze filled with secret doors without the elf rogue with all the spot/listen/search skills. Can you say "ambush"?


----------



## Darmanicus

Ok just did the write-up for Endo in the Rogues Gallery, hope you like.

And that maze was a freakin' nightmare!


----------



## Eccles

As we were exhausted by our efforts in the Erythnull temple, we rested for a long time. After the first night, Flynne was keen to press onwards as far and as fast as possible, but we were too tired and our resources too spent to enter a new temple. We spent another day and night without straining ourselves, but on the next morning, Flynne announced that it was an elven ‘day of rest’, and that he could not join us for several hours until his devotional meditations were complete.

The rest of us discussed matters, and then decided to open the next temple. We could, after all, retreat if it proved too difficult for us. We prepared carefully; Endo casting his spells of protection and once again being shrouded by dark spirits. We dressed in dark robes from the Hextor temple, once again hoping to talk our way into the temple itself.

The silver key we had taken from the cleric of Erythnull fit perfectly into the lock, and we pushed the door open. The door swung open smoothly and silently at Niccoli’s push – beyond lay a narrow grey stone passageway, dimly lit by regularly spaced glowing stones set into the walls. Looking down the corridor we could see a number of side passageways leading off at right angles. Taking a decision to stick to the left wall in case we got lost, we moved into the network of passages.

After a few minutes of slow exploration, we came into sight of a small room. Almost immediately, I could hear a series of slamming stone doors from around us. I looked around, and could see a number of hooded figures who weren’t there before. Peeking from under the brown hoods I could see two dark eyes set above what appeared to be an oversized crow’s beak. Feathered hands gripped at daggers and crossbows, whilst taloned feet clicked almost noiselessly on the stone floor.

Before I could shout an alarm, quarrels flew from every direction. Nearly a full half dozen of the bird-like kenku stepped from concealed doors and shadows firing and reloading as they came. Bolts slammed into Endo and Igmut, irritating the half-orc, but severely wounding the more vulnerable mage.

Before any of us managed to react, the creatures reloaded and fired again; leaving Endo barely able to stand and Igmut extremely angry. We drew weapons and prepared to counter-attack, when the bird-men dashed around various corners or stepped back through well-crafted secret doors. Igmut was left with no target on which to vent his anger.

My first action was to cast a spell on Endo, healing his wounds before he and I moved into the relative safety of the small room. Unfortunately, my assessment was proved wrong a few moments later, as the kenku sprang a second round of attacks. Several moved out to shoot and strike at Igmut, whilst one in the small room dropped his grey cloak, seemingly appearing out of nowhere next to Endo, who he stabbed through the shoulder, undoing the healing spell I had so recently cast.

Behind me, I could hear the sound of Igmut’s axe cleaving through a body, accompanied by the sound of Niccoli’s armoured form dashing up past me and swinging at Endo’s attacker. He missed, but from out in the corridor blossomed an orange glow of fire as some of the kenku flung alchemist’s fire at Igmut, scorching his flesh.


----------



## Eccles

I drew my rapier, dashed the length of the room and then thrust with it. The blade took the kenku neatly at the base of the throat, and it gurgled bloodily, slumping to the floor even as I withdrew the blade. I gazed in astonishment at how easily it was to kill a living being.

Heavily wounded, Endo moved to behind Igmut, and cast his dazing spell at one of the foes, stunning it. 10 feet to my left, a stone panel slid open in my room, and a kenku stepped through flinging a flask at me. I ducked under it, and fire bloomed over the wall behind me. Back out in the corridor, a second flask ‘whoomphed’ as Igmut burst into yet more flames. 

Niccoli crossed the room in a few easy strides, and cut the kenku across the torso, nearly taking it to the ground in one blow. I stepped across to join him, and stabbed this second kenku through the chest with my rapier, dropping him to the floor to join his friend.

.oOo.

Outside, the screams of the dying kenku was echoed by Igmut’s screams of frustration as the sight of his enemy’s fleeing back. He and Endo gave up, and joined us in the room to allow us to recover. Next to me, Niccoli pulled a morningstar from his belt, and began slamming it at the wall from which the sneaky kenku had entered the room. 

With an almighty BANG, a stone slab slammed down from the ceiling to lock the four of us into the room. The hissing of running sand could be heard, and was soon joined by the clanking of ratchets and mechanisms from behind the wall. Igmut stepped up next to Niccoli, and joined him in smashing at the stone panel.

With a clank, the wall behind us and began to grind slowly towards us. Igmut and Endo slammed ever more desperately at the wall, whilst Endo and I drove wedged to slow the grinding advance of the sliding wall, which drew closer and closer despite our efforts, pushing us on the flailing morningstars of Niccoli and Igmut.


----------



## Eccles

Pausing only to cast a spell of strength enhancement on Niccoli, the two warriors crashed through the wall mere moments before the room became too small for them to swing their weapons. It led into a small dark passageway, which we all packed into. Endo paused for a few moments to examine the wall, muttering about the quality of the build and explaining trigger mechanisms and hinges, before pushing on a small panel and causing the door to swing silently open. We poured out of the tiny passageway to find ourselves a scant twenty feet from the entrance to the maze. We cursed in frustration.

.oOo.

Pausing to cast restorative spells on one another, we turned back to the maze, and continued our exploration. The passageways were complicated and intricate, and we moved slowly, wary of an ambush.

After a number of minutes of careful exploration, we heard a series of high pitched squealing. Niccoli gripped his sword and dashed around the next corner; I could hear a swish and two thumps. By the time I reached the corner, I could see Niccoli standing, leaning on his sword, next to the decapitated bodies of two massive weasels. He grinned, and beckoned us forwards.


----------



## Eccles

Creeping onwards, we were ambushed once again. Stone panels slid open behind and amidst us, whilst kenku dashed from several directions. One was larger than the others, whilst another chanted briefly as he advanced, directing a narrow dark lance of energy at Niccoli, sapping him of strength and vitality as it struck him. 

I tried my best to thwart the spellcaster by throwing a spell back at him from almost point-blank range, but was unsuccessful as he shook off the sound-disrupting energies of my magic. Endo, however, had no such problem. His spell shot over my shoulder and struck the kenku sorcerer in the face, and I could see from inches away as his eyes misted and went pearly-white in blindness.

For his troubles, Endo was immediately shot twice, and the kenku sorcerer pulled out a feather and muttered to it. It warped and grew, elongating and turning leathery. A huge whip unfurled, and hung in the air between us, before cracking and wrapping me up tightly. 

Endo’s second spell drove the big kenku wild with paranoia. The large foe raised his hands to his head, dropping his heavy club, and began rolling his eyes around him at unknown enemies. 

I struggled free of the huge whip, and ducked under its next attack, before flinging myself to one side to evade a further dark beam from the blinded sorcerer. Niccoli stepped across, and cracked the spellcaster across the head with his bastard sword. He groaned once, and fell to the floor dead.

Igmut and Niccoli slaughtered the others in a frenzy of destruction, and we searched the foes for anything they might have which could assist us.

.oOo.

In searching, Igmut called out. “Water go through wall! Go through wall! Water most clever!”

We moved over to see what he was pointing at, and could see that there was a spillage of water on the floor, which had clearly happened under one of the panels. 

After a discussion of what to do next, and whether Endo needed to find himself another ‘wife’ from somewhere, Niccoli and Igmut again drew their heavy maces, and began to batter their way through the heavy stone. When it crashed noisily to the floor, we could see a short passageway, at the end of which was a perfectly normal-looking wooden door. Igmut turned the handle, and we moved in.

.oOo.

Beyond was a well-lit passage lined with pale marble. The walls had strange bulges in it, whilst in the centre of the passage were a number of slender columns, each veined with thin strands of dark green. The green lines in the rock seemed to be pulsing and writhing slowly. Endo squinted at the lines, but after a few moments rubbed his head and frowned.

“There is some magical effect in those veins. It attacked my mind in some way.”

Igmut slapped his hand across his eyes immediately.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Eccles said:
			
		

> Igmut slapped his hand across his eyes immediately.




Hear and speak no evil will hopefully be following shortly. 

Thanks for the writeup!


----------



## Darmanicus

Damn, Thursdays session was good!

Hurry up with an update Nik.


----------



## GeorgeFields

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> Damn, Thursdays session was good!
> 
> Hurry up with an update Nik.




Be happy. You already know what happened. It's the REST of us that have to wait!

HURRY UP, NIK!!!!


----------



## Darmanicus

GeoFFields said:
			
		

> Be happy. You already know what happened. It's the REST of us that have to wait!
> 
> HURRY UP, NIK!!!!




Oh I'm happy alright, this campaign has got some wicked loot in it!


----------



## Eccles

As we stood staring at the slender columns in the corridor, a thin hand tapped me on the shoulder. 

When I had stopped screaming, and my heartbeat had returned to something like normal, I realised that Flynne had returned to us, creeping up stealthily through the maze.

Enthused by our friend’s return, we stepped into the pale corridor, and soon came across a strange room, with purple lined rock on most of the walls. On the wall to our left, the wall was the colour of tar, and strange hands pushed out towards us from the other side, grasping slowly before sinking back under the surface of the wall.

Also in the room was a heavy stone altar, before which stood two robed figures, who rubbed at it enthusiastically, polishing the dark stonework.

.oOo.

Flynne celebrated his return by firing his bow into one of the two hooded figures. The arrow flew towards the head of the figure, but slowed strangely as it closed, and somehow didn’t strike as hard as it should have done.

I started an enthusing chant, backing around the corridor. I could see Endo firing his recently captured crossbow at a figure. He swore, as the same mystical effect caused his bolt to slow in the same way.

From my position around the corner, I could hear an appalling screaming noise, which got louder and louder as it came from the room with the altar. Poking my head around the corner, I was rewarded with the unearthly spectral sight of a ghostly chanting figure, babbling incoherently. Behind it, Flynne’s lips moved in a soundless echo of the allip. The creature itself glided through the air, and attacked Niccoli. The ghost’s clawed hand passed through Niccoli’s armour, and then through the fighter’s torso as well. A strange grin spread across Niccoli’s face for a second, before he looked terrified, confused, and nervous in rapid succession.

Niccoli dashed into the room away from the allip; taking a second blow for his troubles. This second attack turned his skin almost ashen, but he gripped his bastard sword and bellowed a very un-Niccoli-like warcry as he ran at the two hooded figures.

As Igmut moved up to face the life-draining ghost, Endo chanted briefly, before shouting at the ghost to stop attacking. It paused, and frowned at Endo (perhaps because he was using his Hat of Disguise to look like a rogue). A wide slit of a mouth opened in the creature’s head.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” the creature told Endo. But it sounded uncertain.


----------



## Eccles

Inside the room, the fight was going slowly for Niccoli, particularly as the two acolytes swiftly drank potions, turning their bodies into strangely floating mists. 

From my side, Endo tried again to give the allip instructions. “Go and hunt the kenku in the maze,” he shouted at it. To our amazement, the ghostly figure bowed, and glided through the wall towards the maze. 

Without their ghostly backup, the two cloaked figures at the altar were swiftly dealt with by Niccoli and Igmut. We paused to take a breath, and were astonished to find that Niccoli, our stout and sturdy fighting companion, was staring around himself blankly and asking what he should do next. He was even grinning. Worried, we discussed what to do (whilst Niccoli examined the pretty patterns the blood made falling off his sword-blade). We decided that it was likely an obscure effect from the allip’s touches, and he would hopefully return to normal in due course.

.oOo.

We explored a little further, finding a small bedchamber with 4 bunkbeds and a writing desk. Seeing nothing else of interest, we moved on to the next doors which we opened gingerly. 2 more of the acolytes standing around a cauldron in a room clearly equipped as an alchemical laboratory. Books lay on shelves along one wall; the shelving interrupted at one point by a skeleton on a stand, whose organs were still pulsing disconcertingly. The two acolytes stood by a cauldron at the far end of the room. Indicating to stay for a second, Flynne prepared to slip into the room.

Misunderstanding, Niccoli grinned broadly and slammed into the door, slashing his sword in the general direction of the closest acolyte. Igmut joined in by charging at the other; his axe also missing the intended target. Endo drew his wand of enfeeblement and blasted one of the two men with its draining ray and we moved en masse into the room.

At that very instant, the door at the far end of the room swung open, and a lithe figure in green robes wearing a mask could be seen. He gestured at us with his tattooed hands and a tiny glowing object hurtled towards us. It smashed into the wall behind us, and blossomed into a colossal burst of fire. Agony blossomed for me as I was bathed in flame, but I was able to duck some of the blast. Endo did not have that luxury and fell to the ground writhing. 

I busied myself casting a restorative spell on Endo from the dwindling charges of the wand. Behind me I could hear the twang of Flynne’s bow and the crashing of Igmut’s axe as the two cultists were slain. I also heard the sound of the wizard’s door slamming shut as he dashed away from the approaching fighters.


----------



## Eccles

When we got to the door, the masked spellcaster was long gone. Endo fished his pet raven from the folds of his robe and sent it winging its way down the corridors to see if it could find the wizard. From around the corridor, we could hear a number of sizzling bangs followed by a squark. The bird flapped back, scared and heavily scorched.

.oOo.

We searched the complex on foot, but were unable to find him. Endo and I, who had stayed in the first room to stop the wizard getting around behind us, then suddenly heard another banging noise and ran out to help our comrades.

We dashed in to see the wizard threatening the fighters whilst surrounded by a large number of glowing spell-effects. Endo and I both rapidly cast spells, but both were ineffective. Niccoli and Igmut dashed towards the wizard; both showing signs of further recent scorching from another fireball, and I drew my rapier to join them, trying to corner the wizard against the wall.

Somehow, however, the wizard managed to twist and turn between our blades, and positively hurtled up the corridor at mystically enhanced speeds. He raised his fingers 
and chanted once again, and I could see yet another fireball hurtling towards me. With another wave of fire, I lost all consciousness.


----------



## Eccles

I awoke somehow pinned to the floor in a blanket of thick white webbing. Flynne was standing near me clutching a now empty potion bottle. 

The webs obscured any sign of what might be going on, but I could hear the sounds of combat and the wizard’s screams from deep within them. Abruptly, the screaming stopped.

.oOo.

It took a few minutes for the webs to fade away, and Flynne and I joined in the frenzy of looting. Items were taken from the acolytes, the altar, and also from the masked wizard. Under the mask, his skin was white and almost faceless; tiny eyes, a sharp nose and a small toothless mouth. We had defeated the faceless one.

Amongst the items, we found a gorgeous cloak, which I immediately claimed as my own, and also a scroll of tightly written text: 

“The Age of Worms

The secrets of this page are most holy. Know ye heretics who invade them that the eye of Vecna is upon you. If you read this, Theldrick, you have either slain me and doomed our race, or the time is night for our final victory.

At last the riddle of this place is solved. In ages past, a great being known as Kyuss rose above the petty warlords who fought and struggled for material gain. Mighty Kyuss is the herald of the Overgod. Soon, he will sound the clarion call to the faithful. The three sundered faiths shall be made whole.

The undead our agents spotted must be located and captured. If they bear the worms of Kyuss then they perhaps hold the final answer to our research. The Ebon Aspect stirs within the pool, bit it is still not ready to emerge. Perhaps a traumatic event – an invasion by heretics, a great battle fought within these halls – could awaken it. But even then it will attain only a minor form. The Way of the Ebon Triad speaks of the danger of awakening the aspect too soon. Our work will be for naught.

We must find the worms and the undead hosts that carry them. If they are not here, then we must send agents to the Rift. If Kyuss himself, or his agents, cannot shepherd in the Age of Worms, then we shall do it ourselves so that the Overgod may live.

Our course is clear, my dear Theldrick. Smenk is no longer useful to us and must die. Kill him, then send agents to the Mistmarsh, across the southern hills. I believe that we will find what we are looking for there, among the lizardfolk. Summon more of your warriors. If the calculations and portents are correct, the time for covert action is at an end. As the Age of Worms begins, we must strike hard and fast to prepare the coming of the Overgod.

Of course, dear Theldrick, if you were so rash as to slay my followers and I, then you, soon, shall join me in the afterlife. Doubtless your treachery has already stirred the Overgod. Our mission has failed, and you will die at our hands.”


----------



## Eccles

We had a discussion, tinged with the fear of what might have come out of the dark pool behind us. Some ‘Overgod’ creature might have climbed from the dank waters and stood between ourselves and the surface. But what might have happened if it was intelligent enough to work the lifts? Could it reach the surface and engage in slaughter? Could it already be above us, killing our families and friends?

Exhausted and largely spent, we tightened the cinches on our armour and marched back out through the maze, unable to take time to rest.

.oOo.

From our side of the door to Vecna’s temple, we could hear growling and heavy pacing. Endo cast a simple spell to help protect Niccoli’s weakened psyche from invasion, then we opened the door and dashed out en masse.

Standing next to the ruined form of the elevator stood a towering primevil creature from nightmare. Its dark skin heaved in agonised breaths, chest straining under rotting flesh. The creature’s barrel chest bore six arms, three on either side, with three of the hands and one eye missing from its form. Shaggy patches of hair fought with piebald decaying skin. The creature turned to face us, roaring in anger.

Igmut dashed towards the thing and swung his axe, missing. Flynne’s bow sang, the arrow barely scratching the beast. I began another chant of encouragement for the others, but my voice was briefly drowned out by the Overgod roaring ‘Hextor!’ A huge flail materialised in the air near Niccoli, whilst the beast itself clawed out and bit at Igmut. Thankfully, it missed him with most of the attacks, leaving only a single claw mark on the half orc.

Niccoli dashed in to assist Igmut, but he missed in his turn. 

Taking one of the beads from the necklace recently captured from the kenku, I threw a ball of fire into the air to strike at the creature’s head. The blast was huge, but the Overgod bellowed in pleasure. Somehow, the fiery attack was healing its wounds. Endo and I stared at one another in horror.

In the centre of the room, the Overgod entered a state of fury. It bit and clawed at Niccoli, muscles bulging in rage as it attacked, all thought of defence forgotten. Wounds blossomed over Niccoli’s body as he went from nearly entirely healthy to critically injured.

Endo chanted and cast a spell to try to drain the strength out of the creature, but his spell energy was absorbed into the creature. The wounds we had already dealt to it closed still further. Endo began to chant another spell, and a few seconds later a truly horrifically sized centipede materialised on one side of the Overgod, serving more as a distraction than a threat.

Igmut’s axe blow had some effect on the Overgod, although not as much as we might have expected from the huge swing. Flynne threw alchemist’s fire at the creature, but the Overgod ignored the blaze and carried on swinging.

The Overgod mauled Igmut with its claws, but Niccoli caused it to roar in pain in a colossal overhead blow. Flynne dashed up behind Igmut and snatched the holy water from his belt, and began to throw flask after flask into the Overgod – each causing it to scream in agony. 

I resorted to my crossbow, but the bolts went wide – concern that I might hit my friends making me aim high. The Overgod swung out at Igmut and Niccoli, and the injuries proved too much for Niccoli, who collapsed onto the floor.


----------



## Eccles

Endo’s next spell somehow managed to penetrate the creature’s defenses. It wailed as its strength was sapped away. When the creature next slapped Igmut with one of its claws, we were relieved to see that it barely raised a scratch on his heavily-scarred flesh. 

Igmut slashed with his axe as Flynne continued to throw holy water. I dashed up to Niccoli, and cast my last spell into him. I was relieved to see my friend’s hands open and he gripped his sword tightly. He stood up, ducking under a swinging claw, and slashed his bastard sword deeply into its side. 

The spiritual flail of Hextor (which had just managed to smash apart Endo’s massive summoned centipede) floated up and swung once, and Niccoli grunted in pain and surprise, before collapsing back onto the floor. 

As Endo (whose spells were also exhausted) stepped up to hand Igmut a potion, Flynne snatched a greataxe from the floor, and swung at the Overgod’s back, missing. Igmut swung his own axe heavily into the monster. I used the wand to restore Niccoli to consciousness, but could feel that the wand was now exhausted.

.oOo.

The Overgod, now bleeding heavily, entered another screaming rage, and slashed furiously at Igmut, who slumped to the floor. Niccoli stood once again, but had barely reached his feet when the monster slashed out reflexively, tearing his throat out. Niccoli collapsed, clearly beyond any healing.

Flynne, Endo and I backed up. The beast was heavily wounded, but could clearly kill any one of us in a single series of attacks. We each drew a bead on the creature, and two crossbows and Flynne’s bow sang. One shot glanced across its shoulder; one shattered against the wall, but my bolt sank to its feathers in the creature’s empty eye socket. Its roaring stopped. The Overgod sank to its knees before us, then collapsed on the floor.


----------



## Dpulse303

phew what a fight....


----------



## kroh

Wow!  Great description and fantastically played (although from the sound of things, a few of you either need to get some henchmen as cannon fodder or get better dice!).  

Awsome story hour...can't wait for the next session.

Regards, 
Walt


----------



## Eccles

Better dice is certainly an option. I think that's only about the third time I've shot something in 10 weeks of gameplay. Mind you, I did just kill an 'Overgod'...

Unfortunately, Niccoli did suffer the brunt of that one, and he won't be coming back. Igmut's still alive and twitching, though. Party front line might suffer for that loss, though.


----------



## Darmanicus

I just hope we manage to get out of this forsaken place, it's horrible!


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

It probably would have been a little better if we'd managed to rest... I think we could have done, but it just didn't feel right with the avatar of some horrid god running around?

Frankly it was (again!) Endo's ray of enfeeblement that saved the day. Reduced it from 'uber death on a stick' down to merely 'damn scary'. Necromancers certainly make good friends.


----------



## kroh

> Niccoli did suffer the brunt of that one, and he won't be coming back




Aw man that sucks... I just can't seem to get attached to anyone during this thing...
Regards, 
Walt


----------



## Eccles

Rebuilding the smashed lift apparatus took several hours, and we eventually had to cannibalise the temple doors for timber. We hoisted ourselves up, to discover that the terrible noises of the Overgod’s rampage had echoed throughout the complex. The miners had fled in terror, and we were able to escape the complex with a minimum of difficulty.

We returned the mauled bodies of our friends to those we thought best. Niccoli’s comrades at the garrison took us at our word when we explained that he had fallen defending his friends and the town. It took us some time to locate Torvig’s dwarven comrade, who was already down in his cups at the Feral Dog. Explaining that Torvig had been mauled to death by an evil cleric took us some time, and I wasn’t certain that he’d understood us when we’d finished. We had to pay for his funeral ourselves.

Morgan’s body – we left Endo to explain that one to his mother.

.oOo.

I spent much of the next few days selling as much as I could of the looted goods, although there were several suits of enchanted armour which were simply too costly for any of the town’s shopkeepers to be able to resell. Once we all had money weighing down our pockets, we began to dream of how to spend it.

We lost track of Endo at this point, as he went to his mother’s house and didn’t come out for several days. Eventually, he summoned us all to the house, and we learned that he had arranged for his mother’s sewing circle to make matching black vests for each of us, and he wanted us to try them on. Mine was badly finished and baggy, but I made encouraging noises as I shrugged it on and stood next to my friends.

Endo didn’t bother to explain what he was doing. He chanted briefly and opened his mouth, and suddenly thousands of tiny spiders poured out of his gullet. They poured like a crawling black river down his tunic, across the floor and up our legs, where they clustered across the new vests, spinning silken spiderwebs into the material, tightening the fit and improving the seams. When they had finished, the spiders all balled up and fell to the floor dead; thousands of tiny lives extinguished in the power of Endo’s enchantment. 

The vests looked lovely though; and Endo confidently stated that they would make all of us more resistant to spells cast upon us.

Endo remained in seclusion for several more days, crafting a matching pair of gauntlets for Flynne (with a subtle bone motif etched into the material), as well as a number of wands and other spells scribed into his spellbook.

Apart from a few days spent proselytising the cult of Kord as a favour for Igmut, Flynne, Igmut and I spent most of the time in the pub.

.oOo.

We also spoke to Allustan about what we had discovered. He announced that he would be willing to sell us some items from his extensive collection of enchanted items, and so a vast amount of gold was given to the wizard in return for magical trinkets. 

I also bought Endo’s enchanted Hat of Disguise off him; an item which I had been deeply envious of since I had first seen what it could do.

Allustan mentioned in passing that we would have to go to the city of Greyhawk to get the best price for the enchanted armour. He also said that he had been planning a trip halfway to the city in order to visit his old friend, the war-mage Marzena on the edge of the Mist Marsh (a region populated with lizardmen). 

.oOo.

Whilst in the pub, we encountered Malachite, a friend of ours from Diamond Lake of some years ago. He left the town when we were growing up, hoping to find something he called ‘the green’. He may have found it, as he was followed into the Feral Dog by a large orange orang-utan. We greeted him with open arms, and he introduced us to Clive the ape, his companion over the last few years. 

Also in the pub were the other adventuring group, who Flynne took a few minutes to talk to, remembering that they had been fighting the lizardmen. We learned from them that some of the lizardfolk were infected with worms which made them (at least according to Igmut’s description) “well ‘ard”. 

.oOo.

We prepared our new equipment and mounted the prime horses which Endo had generously bought for us. Joined by Allustan, Malachite, Clive the Ape, and Flynne’s newly bought guard dog, we set out on the road as the sun shone down on us.

The travelling was cheerful. Allustan proved to be an amiable travelling companion, and we swapped tales and anecdotes as we rode.

A while after our noon meal, we encountered a group of 8 gnomes, who were travelling to Diamond Lake with a number of alchemical devices of their own crafting. Impressed, Endo opened his seemingly bottomless money pouch and purchased all of their thunderstones. Then their entire inventory of tanglefoot bags. As if that wasn’t enough, he also bought all the holy water that the gnomes had to offer, before we parted company.

Before they left, the gnomes warned us of a group of 9 bandits some 2 days’ distance up the road, which the gnomes had been able to hide and sneak around. Duly warned, we remounted the horses, and set off again. 

.oOo.

A few more hours’ travel and we were ready to make camp. Malachite found a superb campsite in a clearing a little way off the road, and we pitched our tents and set watches.

A little after midnight, when it was my turn to keep guard on the campsite, I was startled by the sound of a female scream piercing the night. I woke Flynne, Igmut and Malachite, and the three of them slipped, crashed and strolled into the dark forest, whilst I stayed to keep guard on the other two spellcasters.  

A few minutes later, I heard the sound of Igmut bellowing, followed by the same girl’s screaming. The scream was stifled rapidly somehow, but not soon enough to let Endo sleep on. A muffled swearing came from his tent, and he was just poking his head out of the tent when the three explorers (and Clive the ape) returned to the camp, setting off my alarm wards as they entered. 

Clive the ape was carrying a young girl in an outmoded peasant’s dress, who was struggling unsuccessfully against the hairy ape’s huge arms. I took the girl and spoke gently to her, calming her down swiftly. As the child and I talked, Endo cast a spell of magical detection from behind her. I glanced up at him curiously, but he shook his head in the negative. 

Malachite and Clive faded back into the forest and towards the swamp beyond. After a few minutes they returned to tell us of a statue in the marsh, indicative of a creature which was able to turn people to stone. The statue matched the description of the little girl’s mother.

We talked to the little girl for a while longer, and she explained that she and her mother had been going to visit family in a village. None of us (even Allustan) recognised the name of the village, and when Malachite somehow turned into the form of an eagle-owl and flew around for an hour he couldn’t find any trace of a village. 

The girl named Archibald IX as the king, who had not reigned in over 600 years, and the idea formed in my head that she had also been turned to stone and somehow broken free of the spell. 

.oOo.

I sang the girl some lullabies to get her (and Igmut) to sleep, and the next morning we set out to find the girl’s mother’s statue. 

Having crept into the marsh, we could hear a number of voices hissing to one another in a draconic dialect. The voices closed in on us gradually, and Flynne slipped into the marsh towards them. A moment later, there was a ‘twang’ and a hiss of pain and alarm. Igmut bellowed a prayer to Kord, and dashed into the marshland. I was slow in following him, and by the time I got into sight, he had already beheaded two of the 5 lizardmen with his new greatsword. Flynne slew another, before Igmut hacked down a fourth before Malachite chanted and a colossal alligator lunged out of the marshland and swallowed the last lizardman whole. 

The statue was recovered, and we returned to the campsite, ready to trek on to Marzena in the hope that she could end the petrification.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Nice going there!

Particularly liked the description of Endo's item creation - got the ickiness factor across well. 

Swarmed by hundreds of insects - ewwww!

I hate to think what Evan has done for Kord worshipping in Diamond Lake. Having a CN bard talk on your behalf has got to be good. I never knew kord worship involved giving money to the preacher. 

And for anyone wondering. The second bout of screaming in the swamp was caused by Igmut trying to calm the girl down. Apparantly bellowing at human children and showing them all your fangs just scares them more. Who'd have thought. (metagame: -1 chr modifier, no diplomacy ranks, roll a 1. Doh!).


----------



## Darmanicus

Most of that session was sell craft sell craft sell craft!

Most enjoyable though seeing as what i ended up making for everbody; it's always nice to get that 1st lot of magical goodies to gear you up.

A tip for all you lot who haven't thought of it......

If you have a magical item crafter in your party, instead of paying market prices for items, get that person to craft the item for you and charge the base price plus a bit extra and everyone comes out a winner!


----------



## Darmanicus

kroh said:
			
		

> Aw man that sucks... I just can't seem to get attached to anyone during this thing...
> Regards,
> Walt




Sorry dude, Morrus doesn't pull his punches and can be really quite creative when it comes to using the bad guys as we have all found out to some cost.


----------



## Dpulse303

C'mon Nik where is the update??


----------



## Eccles

Morning came, and we broke camp. Chloe, the little girl, was devastated to see her mother as a statue, and was only mollified when she was seated on Allustan’s horse with the petrified parent carried in her line of sight. Clive the ape was deputised to carry Chloe’s mother, and the simian’s muscles heaved, and he was able to carry the statue alongside us.

We knew that there was a group of bandits up the road, and we road gingerly from the swamps into hillier terrain, preceded by Endo’s raven familiar. After half a day, the bird returned squawking. After a few minutes’ communion with the bird, Endo announced that 6-7 people were on the road ahead; the track itself blocked with wagons. Whilst Endo cast his sinister spells of preparation, Flynne slipped into the undergrowth.

My roguish companion returned after a short while to announce that there were 9 bandits in total; 5 in the centre of the road and two more on either side. We made our preparations, and rode forwards, leaving Chloe in the care of Allustan behind us. 

As we drew near, the largest of the 5 bandits hailed us.

“There is a toll for travelling on this road, sirs!”

We looked at one another. No way a group of mere bandits could stop us. We had killed an Overgod. And now we were festooned in magical trinkets, more skilled and powerful than before. Simple bandits daring to stay our path? How dare they. They would fall before our swords, no matter how sharp their blades looked, and no matter how shiny their armour appeared.

I couldn’t resist tweaking the noses of these bandits, by shouting back “So the road belongs to you, does it?”

“We’re not your average cutpurses and robbers,” came the reply.

I turned to Endo, Igmut and Malachite, who were standing beside me. “No ordinary cutpurses and robbers,” I exclaimed. “This lot have managed to save up and buy a road. Hark at them!”

“We have the strength to back up our threats,” threatened the bandit. To either side of the road came a brief chanting and papery rustling noises – two huge globes sprang into existence safeguarding some unseen wizards. At the same point, I turned back to the head bandit with a view to continuing the debate a while further to gauge the true extent of their potency.

.oOo.

My plan was thwarted within moments, as a twang came from my right where Flynne was concealed. His arrow arced high into the air and fell to earth amidst the bandits. Their leader looked down at the arrow which had fallen at his feet, looked up at us, and drew his gleaming sword. 

“Kill them!”

The next sound was a bellowing from Clive on the left bank. The massive ape surged towards one of the flanking groups taking them by surprise as per our plan, and why I had cast a spell of invisibility on him a few minutes earlier. Then, the sword-wielding lead bandit leapt onto one of his wagons and pulled something from his belt pouch, tossing it to the floor at my feet. There was a colossal bang, and I was abruptly struck deaf. Judging by their looks of horror, so were Endo and Malachite. 

Igmut was the next to move – I could only watch as he dashed forwards with his mouth open in an obvious war bellow which I couldn’t hear. He swung his heavy sword and hacked deeply into the leader, who opened his mouth in a silent scream of pain, but kept on fighting.

Things went from bad to worse as a golden streak leapt down from the right bank and exploded into flames in our midst. To our left, we could see a white stripe of lightning hurtle up into the sky.

Unable to hear myself speak or sing, I snatched at my necklace and flung the enchanted item at the group of bandits. It exploded in my sight as a pair of less impressive explosions, scorching a few of the fighters beyond Igmut. As I pulled back away from the fight, I was caught in the edge of a spell cast by Endo, and time slowed for me. Still silent, I could see the enemies move as though through molasses; suddenly they were faced by a massive lion summoned by Malachite who surprised me no end by abruptly turning into a feral looking wolverine.

Still deaf, I saw a silent vision of fury break out in front of me. Igmut was buried in a whirling tempest of steel blades, but he shrugged off many of the blows and rose out of the pile of foemen, flinging them to the side as he stood.

To my left, the trees shook as Clive collapsed to the floor, freeing up 2 of the bandits. I dashed back in, marvelling at the speed granted to me by Endo’s spell, then tried to cast healing magic on Igmut. I could feel the words going wrong in my mouth; my deafness thwarted my attempts to frame the spell properly and it failed completely. 

.oOo.

Despite wolverine-Malachite’s savaging of one of the bandits, and the lion attacking another, none of them fell. To the right flank, Flynne hurtled out of the tree-line madly pulling a potion from his belt as he fled from the enemies. 

Igmut took a step up onto the wagons and swung his greatsword once again, cleaving through the lead bandit and one of his followers before nearly killing a third in a second swing of the sword. 

As though in response, lightning slammed from the surrounding hills, killing the wounded bandit and taking Igmut to the floor.

I stepped forwards and cast a spell on Igmut, whilst uncorking a potion with my left hand and tipping the liquid down his throat. At the same instant, Endo collapsed to the floor behind me, a heavily enchanted arrow protruding from his chest. 

Igmut was struck with a number of magical missiles, but stayed on his feet. Another arrow hurtled out of the trees and exploded on contact with Malachite, who keeled slowly over onto the floor bleeding heavily. 

Another of my dwindling spells was enough to bring Endo back to his feet, and he in turn cast his sinister flesh-rending spell on the archer who was menacing the still retreating Flynne. Clutching the mystical rod, he cast another spell in rapid succession, shrinking down to half his height.

Mid flight, Flynne spun around and fired an arrow into the man chasing him; his wounds torn wider by the cluster of tiny spirits surrounding him. Bleeding profusely from a number of wounds, Igmut dashed across a short gap, grabbed one of the wizards by the throat and slammed him to the floor. His muscular frame lifted the enemy wizard over and over again, slamming the mage’s head onto a nearby boulder until the foeman lay still.

We were heavily wounded, but not yet beaten. Many of the enemy were in a worse state, but there were still 4 almost entirely unwounded and in a position to threaten us. From nearby, I could see Endo shouting something up at the enemy, and there was a brief pause – I couldn’t hear what response they gave if any.

The next I could see, Igmut had laid his sword down and backed away, casting healing magics on himself. The remaining bandits turned and fled, and we turned to healing our wounds. I was delighted to see Igmut standing from the undergrowth and giving a broad fanged smile and thumbs up, indicating that both Malachite and Clive had survived. 

The roadway was cleared, and our devastating foemen were swiftly stripped of anything useful to us. We reunited with Chloe and the magus Allustan, and set off back down the road towards our destination…


----------



## Eccles

...That answer your question, Dave?


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Thanks for the writeup, Mr Eccles! 


My word, this encounter was nasty. Really nasty. Mega bandits 'o doom.  

We totally underestimated them and they came >< close to killing the lot of us.

Pulled through by the skin of our teeth. And after the smoke cleared, none of us were dead - quite a result, I reckons!


----------



## GeorgeFields

Of course, they weren't an Over-God.


----------



## El Jeraldo

Hey guys this is an awesome story hour. I jsut finished reading the entire thread and I am greatly inspired to get working on my own campaign. This is a great read and I can't wait for the next update.

-El Jeraldo, The Jerry of Gold


----------



## Eccles

Following our hard-fought battle with the bandits, we back-tracked and found Allustan, Chloe and her mother. To our very great surprise, Allustan was leaning heavily against a tree, with the corpses of four more bandits lying at his feet. He had, apparently, been ambushed. When we asked him carefully what had happened, and how he was able to defeat these men (who, on closer inspection looked far less equipped and scrawnier) without any offensive spells available to him. 

Looking sheepish, Allustan admitted that he had a small collection of scrolls – or he did have; the scrolls were almost entirely used up when he was ambushed by the bandits. 

Whilst we dragged the bodies into the ditch (pocketing any small items of gold and trinkets as we did so), we muttered amongst ourselves about what spells the mage might possibly have prepared, with no spells of travel, divination or offense, and he hadn’t offered to prepare any of us for the battle at all. We resolved to let him borrow Endo’s spellbook that evening.

.oOo.

We pressed on towards the fort, and a little after lunch were told by Allustan that we were now only half a mile from our destination. The land around us was getting swampier between intermittent hills, and as we rode on we noticed a large number of flies, together with the tang of smoke and blood on the air. As we rounded another hill, sounds of open conflict reached our ears. Endo’s raven was sent up to investigate, and returned a few minutes later to tell us that the keep was under siege by a small army of lizardmen; some 25-50 of the green creatures were ringed around the fortress.

We dismounted, and walked the horses forwards, whilst Flynne dashed up before disappearing into the undergrowth. His report was more detailed. The fort was a spire protruding from a false hill, and its door was on the far side of the hill from us. On the hill itself were a number of wooden stakes to stop a force advancing on it. 

A short distance from the fort itself lay a corale for horses, whose door lay open and a dismembered horse was lying in the gateway. Dotted around the keep were 8 groups of lizardmen, each with either 5 or 6 members armed with clubs and javelins. The lizardmen ignored the keep’s occasional flurry of arrowfire, and were plainly content eating the corpse of one of the soldiers they had butchered in their initial assault. 

Flynne crept around the whole perimeter of the lizard camps, learning that 2 of the groups had larger and stronger looking lizards within them, and a third group had a lizardman clad in green robes accompanying them. 

.oOo.

Upon Flynne’s return, we discussed our options, and learned that Allustan did have a spell which could assist us – we could cast a spell of mystical sending to give a message to the wizard within the fort. Scratching our heads to limit ourselves to a 25 word limit Allustan set upon the message, we decided to send her a message to say: -

“Myself and 4 adventurers outside. Resources low, propose waiting until morning. How serious is your situation? Raven will carry further messages. Reply 25 words.”

The wizard at the other end of the spell was plainly not familiar with its use, and also didn’t understand the last part of our message. “Lizard lair. Caught,” came the reply. We stared at one another in mute incomprehension. 

.oOo.

Whilst the rest of us made a brief camp to try to recover spells if we could, Flynne crept in closer to the lizard camps; he heard them discussing their options, and that they planned to attack at nightfall. One of the lizards expressed concern at the plans, and was promptly slapped down to a snarled “Kuchak will have your hide if you don’t obey”. Flynne’s conclusion was that Kuchak was the warlord. 

A second group was also heard to say that ‘the druid’ was having to take Kuchak’s orders as well. 

Upon receipt of these messages, we wrote a note to the inhabitants of the fort, to let them know the time of the impending attack. The black bird flew into the keep, and we all held our breath whilst it was out of sight. 

Endo’s raven returned with very bad news. Many of the men within the castle were dead, and others were suffering from the ravages of some kind of infection. The worst of the infected were locked in the fortress’ basement. There were only 14 able bodied men within the building, and three soldiers and the mage had all been captured. The meaning of the sending spell began to make a little more sense. 

.oOo.

It was clear that we weren’t going to have time for Allustan to come to grips with Endo’s spellbook. He offered to return to Diamond Lake by using the last of his scrolls, and to return with some men from the garrison there. We agreed to this, and were heartened by the news that his scroll had sufficient power to carry Chloe and her mother with him. 

We rested, and prepared for the fight. 

.oOo.

Once I was refreshed, I crept forwards with Flynne’s help in the faltering light. Once close enough, I cast one of my more powerful spells, and began to read the thoughts of the lizardmen in the closest group. Scanning through their minds, I was able to learn their plans, which were close to coming to fruition. 

The lizard assault was to be started by a lighted arrow fired through the air. The druid was then under instruction to cast a spell, and then the groups were to advance to within 60 feet of the building. Most of them would then throw lit javelins at the windows, whilst 2 of the groups would try to break down the fort’s doors. 

Endo’s raven went up again, and flew into the fortress. We waited for a few minutes, and then saw the windows being barricaded. The raven did not come back out again. Worried, we discussed our plans. Having decided our best course of action was to try to stop the druid from casting his spell, thus restricting the lizards to a physical assault on the fortified building. We readied our weapons, cast a flurry of magical spells of protection and reinforcement, and then looked around.

“Here, where’s Igmut?”

The half-orc had wandered off…

.oOo.

We didn’t have time to go looking for Igmut, and had to take our fight to the enemy immediately. We crept towards the group which contained the druid, taking advantage of the failing light and with Flynne’s instructions. However, Malachite made the mistake of looking up and standing on a fallen log to get his bearings. From 50 feet away, I could hear the expression of surprise from the lizardman who could see the adventurer silhouetted in the moonlight. 

Thinking quickly, I triggered the magic of my mystic chapeau to make me look like a lizardman, and then tackled Malachite, taking him to the floor. Silhouetted myself in the moonlight, I made a show of stabbing him enthusiastically before standing and waving an ‘all clear’ at the watching lizardman. 

Shouting at me in the draconic tongue, the lizardman summoned me over, demanding “how much money did he have?”

I approached, telling the lizard that it had merely been a farmer, and tossed the creature a few copper pieces. I then announced that I was patrolling the outskirts of the encampment for any stray humans, and dashed into the undergrowth.

.oOo.

Rejoining the others, we approached our targeted group (leaving Malachite and Clive hidden in the long-grass). Almost as we moved into position, the lizards lit a series of fires, and our attack was begun. Endo and I cast spells at the druid, although mine failed to interrupt the lizardman’s speech, Endo managed to wrap it in the familiar evil flesh-tearing spirits. An instant later, Malachite’s spell sprang up, wrapping all the lizards in the druid’s group in thick binding grasses. Endo, Flynne and I readied our bows, and my well-timed shot was sufficient to distract the druid at the instant he tried to cast a spell in return. 

We continued our volley of missile fire into the group of lizardmen, return fire coming in the form of inaccurately thrown javelins, and no sooner had the druid managed to summon up a ball of flame and fling it at me did Malachite summon a massive wolf (which ran straight into the weeds and got entangled itself), and the druid was slain.

A second of the lizardman groups noticed us and ran in to join the combat, to be confronted by Flynne, Clive the ape, and a huge summoned lion called into being by Malachite. Flynne backflipped out of the combat, dropped to one knee and fired a series of arrows into the lizards fighting against the druid’s summoned animals, whilst Endo and I poured arrows into the tangled lizards, killing two of them. 

Clive, Flynne and the lion were similarly effective on the flank, splitting up and then slaying the second group of lizardmen, leaving only 3 who were wrapped tightly in the thick grasses twining them through Malachite’s magics. 

As we watched, one of them tore free of the weeds, and was immediately targeted by two crossbows, one sling and a large recurve bow. He didn’t manage to take more than three steps beyond the limits of the spell, and his two companions followed him under a hail of arrow fire. 

As the last of these two groups of lizards were slain, and the summoned wolf disappeared, we heard a crash from the side of the fort – the other lizardmen had managed to fight their way through the doors!


----------



## El Jeraldo

Good post. I enjoy the good tactical battles your party manages to fight.

-El Jeraldo


----------



## Morrus

This was an interesting one.  Because we were one player down, I didn't worry too much about it.  However, the module spoke at length about how this was an EL 8 encounter, and was really, really tough for the 5th level party.  It wanred that it would be easy to kill all of the players if they weren't careful.

But, just looking at the stat blocks, it wasn't.

30 lizardmen, all of which would need a 20 to hit any of the PCs.  One attack each per round.  Assuming every single one of those 30 lizardmen in the battle was attacking a PC every single round, one in 20 attacks would hit - meaning 1.5 hits per round, total, doing less than 10 damage each time.  

And that's being generous - reaslitically, there's no way all 30 would be attacking every round (heck, the thing was set up so the PCs could engage groups of 5-6 lizardmen at a time), and the PCs are powerful enough to kill or disable several lizardmen every round, reducing those figures further with each round that passed.  It's an easy, easy, easy fight - even full on with no tactics.  Add a few judicious spells and a bit of movement, and it's like stepping on ants.

A bad bit of mdule writing, I think.  Or proof that the EL system doesn't work!

As it was the last session before Christmas, and we were missing a player, I didn't worry too much - figured a couple of easy groups would be a nice way to let them swing their swords about a bit without any real threat.  They dealt with two out of six groups fairly quickly (I don't think any of the PCs actually took damage - if any did, it was minimal).  The remaining four groups will be a bit tougher!


----------



## Diplomat123

Russ,

You may have known it was easy, but as an AC 17 PC (are you sure they needed a 20 to hit me?) i wasn't looking forward to tackling groups of 6 lizardmen, especially after my superb skulking in the bushes skills got us split up.  Also, after the mega bandits of doom we had just encountered we had convinced ourselves their druid would be high level, which is why everything the entire party did for two rounds targeted him before he could zap us back.

As it turned out it was probably the easiest fight we have had in the entire campaign...

Doug, playing Malachite the Druid and Clive the friendly Ape.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Hey Mr Doug! 


Great write up there Nik - enjoyed that one a lot. Really liked the sneaking and spying you guys got up to - sounds like fun!

Will have to rack my brains for what Igmut could have wandered off to do? 

Any suggestions about what an Int 6 religious half orc would find distracting? 

Edit: On further reflection, it seems like one of those encounters that's reasonable if you divide them up. If a party just wade in without a plan then I guess it could all be over pretty fast?


----------



## stonegod

Its not too difficult for a party of that size, actually---some comments on the Paizo board point out that it is a chance for the characters to start "feeling their level". The main worry is the possibility of the tower being overrun if the characters do not act in a smart way (in my RL campaign, the PCs almost let the place be overrun, and lost about 1/4 of the garrison that way).


----------



## Eccles

stonegod said:
			
		

> Its not too difficult for a party of that size, actually---some comments on the Paizo board point out that it is a chance for the characters to start "feeling their level". The main worry is the possibility of the tower being overrun if the characters do not act in a smart way (in my RL campaign, the PCs almost let the place be overrun, and lost about 1/4 of the garrison that way).




Wow. You played the campaign out IRL? That's cool. 

Russ, I'm chiming in on the side of the AC 17 people as well. There are 3 of us that a level one commoner armed with a sharpened piece of fruit shout be able to hit about one time in 5 or 6. Then there's Flynne. 

We spent 2 hours of that campaign deciding how to play it out, and took it sensibly (although the people in the garrison may still be slaughtered to a man).

When we started the fight, we played to our strengths, and took away the lizardmen's. I do like entangle. 

Of course, we still have to worry about the other 20 or 30 lizardmen. Much bigger problem. If they run at us en masse, we are going to have a real problem. Igmut can only slaughter so many...


----------



## Dpulse303

Are we playing tonight?? 
hope so i need a d'n'd fix...
see ya'll later ifn we are, if not , oh well.


----------



## Eccles

As far as Russ, Doug, Al and I are concerned... Steve has yet to be rousted by Al...


----------



## GeorgeFields

Dpulse303 said:
			
		

> hope so i need a d'n'd fix...




You have no idea, dude. For various reasons, I haven't gotten to play D&D in over a year. 2006 is probably the FIRST YEAR EVER that I haven't played since I began in 1980. Crap, what a rotten year.


----------



## Eccles

As we stood over the bodies of the fallen lizardmen, trying to decide what to do next, we were heartened to see Igmut striding out of the undergrowth, greatsword in hand. As he drew close to us, he muttered the words of a prayer to Kord to enchant Malachite’s armour.

Gathering our weapons, we proceeded around the side of the fort, with Flynne dashing ahead of us. He disappeared into the darkness ahead of us, and didn’t return. In his stead, we saw the dark figures of several lizardmen running out of the darkness towards us. Flynne was, however, clearly still alive – we could see his arrows hurtling out of the darkness and slamming into the backs of the onrushing lizardmen. 

We joined in the missile fire; my quarrel flying wide, but Endo’s found its target – assuming he was aiming for a glancing bow to a lizardman’s shin. Igmut raised his sling, and hurled a lump of stone which must have weighed at least 3 pounds, and which slammed into the chest of one of the creatures with the force of an onrushing hippogriff, knocking the thing back several feet.

The 6 lizardmen split into 2 groups; 3 of them running towards myself and Endo, and their charge was swiftly intercepted by Igmut, Malachite, and Clive the ape. One of the other 3 doubled back on himself and ran to face Flynne in combat, whilst the remaining two stood their ground and readied javelins. The three approaching us were too far away to reach us immediately, leaving them open to Igmut’s counter-charge – within seconds two of them lay dead; slashed nearly in half at the waist in one huge swing. 

Two javelins sailed forth, one causing Igmut little more than mild irritation, and as I began to sing, I saw Malachite and Clive slay the third fighting lizard close to us. This left only 3 of them; one in hand to hand combat with Flynne, and two suddenly panicked lizardmen surrounded by heavily armed adventurers. Igmut slammed into these two with the force of a hurricane, and very swiftly the fight was done. 

.oOo.

Proceeded once again by Flynne, we moved on towards the door to the fort. As we got closer, the sight of some 15 lizardmen came into view. To distract them, I cast a swift spell to simulate the noise of a small number of armed men on horseback, sounding hunting horns. To my gratification, 5 of the lizards were immediately dispatched to investigate the noises. 4 more stood trying to hack down the small handful of garrison soldiers who still stood in the doorway. 

There were clearly two of the lizards who stood taller than the others. One was obviously the leader, as his armour was better, and he clutched a huge bow and massive greatsword, rather than a club and a number of javelins. The second was his lieutenant, as he was rather stronger than the others, but not noticeably better equipped. This second was the target of Endo’s first spell as we drew closer – spirits and wraiths flying screaming at the lizard in an effort to terrify the lizardman, but the creature shook off the spell.

An instant later, Flynne stood up from a short distance away and fired an arrow at the lieutenant – the creature didn’t shake this off and took a heavy wound to the gut. 

Igmut was the next to move in, moving forwards and chanting the heavy sounds of a prayer to Kord, improving our morale, as well as sapping that of our opponents. 

It was at this point that a large number of the lizardmen turned and charged, many of them closing on Igmut as he was the closes target to them. A couple of them dashed straight past him and ran up to face Endo, threatening my friend the mage.

At this point, the leading lizardman produced his huge black bow, which creaked as he bent it back and released one then another heavy arrow towards the massive figure of Clive. Despite the ape wearing no armour or protective wardings, the two arrows sailed straight past the ape, and the battle continued. The ape responded by moving up and striking at one of the two figures threatening Endo.

I cast a spell creating a loud noise and stunning a couple of the lizards near the fort’s door, causing some pain to the lieutenant who was part of that group. He turned, snarled at me, and dashed straight towards me, slamming me across the chest with a heavy (although rusted) morningstar. I felt ribs crack as pain blossomed throughout my chest.

At this point, ghostly spirits rose from the ground, their moaning and their weaving arms grasping at the lizards, slowing many of them including the lieutenant who was trying his hardest to kill me at that instant. I waved my thanks to Endo and backflipped away from the creature towards the relative safety of Clive’s furry form, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Igmut slaying one lizard and severely injuring another.

.oOo.

Across the battlefield, lizardmen slashed at Endo and Igmut, not hurting either of them. The leader’s massive and intimidating bow creaked a second time, and arrows hurtled towards Endo. Once again, the intimidating black oak shafts missed their intended target and sailed into the night. 

Malachite finished casting a spell, and a large summoned lion charged into the backs of the few lizardmen fighting at the door to the fort. As it crashed into them, one fell beneath its scything claws. Malachite himself drew his scimitar and dashed back to face the lieutenant in single combat. They traded blows, but neither was wounded. 

Still in the undergrowth some distance from the rest of us, Flynne pivoted, took half a step and fell into his familiar bow-stance; his arrow flew straight and true into the chest of the lizard leader, but failed to inflict much more than a scratch through his heavy armour and scaly hide. In response, the largest of the lizardmen dropped his bow, drew his heavy jagged glowing greatsword and charged Igmut. Within seconds, 2 heavy slashes had staggered the massive half orc, who looked mere seconds from collapsing to the dirt. 

.oOo.

Malachite and the lieutenant continued their fight in one corner of the battlefield, whilst Flynne walked forwards firing constantly at the leader of the lizardmen. Heavily injured, Igmut stepped away from the fight and cast a spell, healing up many of his more serious wounds. Endo was quick to take advantage of the leader being unoccupied and cast his spell of weakening. However, the line of black draining energy sailed wide of target, leaving the leader unaffected. 

The leader, however, turned to face Endo, shook some of Igmut’s blood off his sword and charged the mage, screaming “I hate wizards” in heavily accented draconic. The sword slashed heavily across Endo’s chest, and in doing so, it glowed – I could see the grimace on Endo’s face as he fought to protect his spells from some sort of draining effect in the sword.

Most of the lizards being dead, almost everyone converged on the leader. Malachite’s lion charged in and delivered a number of slashing wounds. As Flynne continued his missile fire, I dashed in and cast a spell, tapping Endo on the shoulder and watching him fade from sight, the better to be protected from the lizardman’s next slashing attack. 

Despite this protection, the lizardman managed to hit Endo with an instinctive attack as Endo backed away from the fight. As the mage’s blood flew from a bloody wound in an otherwise invisible body, I was left staring into the angry lizard’s face from less than 10 feet away.

.oOo.

Healed, Igmut charged back into the combat, hacking deep wounds into the leader’s body in recompense for his own wounds. 

The leader turned, took a few steps, and then leapt – his feet left the ground and then he simply sailed through the air, snatching up his bow as he went. Then he flew straight up, ending some 30 feet above our heads.

Desperately, we grabbed at bows and other missile weapons, firing at him and seeing arrows pattering off his scaly flesh. Still, the lizard was badly hurt, and snarled at us “Ilthane will hear of this”, and then simply flew away towards the swamp, hotly pursued by the madly firing Flynne – a number of his shots found their mark, but the lizardman escaped.

We returned our concentration to the battlefield, and cleared it of any surviving lizardmen before looking to the fort.

.oOo.

One of the guards at the door had survived conscious, and Igmut and I were able to save the lives of two others with healing magics. 

We talked with the few surviving guardsmen, and their Captain, a man named Barratt, requested our help in recovering their captives. 

When asked, Captain Barratt explained that the lizardman tribe was small, and that he didn’t know why they had attacked the garrison. He also didn’t know much about the mysterious illness affecting his soldiers – it had clearly struck a patrol who had brought it back to the fort and the laid about half of their number low. Those affected were given immense strength, but also an insurmountable rage and desire to destroy. Igmut declared this to be some previously unknown magical disease. 

.oOo.

As part of our efforts to rescue the garrison’s warmage, we persuaded him to show us her room. We took from it her spellbook and a dagger found in one of her drawers before Flynne’s behaviour so mortally offended the Captain that he asked us to stop searching.

We declared that our search would commence at dawn.


----------



## Dpulse303

Nice! Nic , very nice.
Looking forward to the next "sesh" 

It was a damn shame about the leader getting away    
we are sure to get im though   
I want that bow!!
 see you all thursday.


----------



## sniffles

Morrus said:
			
		

> A bad bit of mdule writing, I think.  Or proof that the EL system doesn't work!



Just trying to get caught up on your campaign, Morrus. 

I'd have to comment on reading that combat that it wasn't bad module writing or proof of the ineffectiveness of the EL system. It's proof that your group has good tactics.   

I could see a party like theirs easily being overmatched if you had some loose-cannon players or characters who don't think before they act.


----------



## Eccles

sniffles said:
			
		

> I'd have to comment on reading that combat that it wasn't bad module writing or proof of the ineffectiveness of the EL system. It's proof that your group has good tactics.




You, sir, are my new favourite poster!

Also, Morrus was all poorly this week, so no writeup, I'm afraid!


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Also, Morrus was all poorly this week, so no writeup, I'm afraid!




Still am.  Sharon gave me her cold.  Grrrrr.


----------



## kroh

Great fight scene!  
Regards, 
Walt


----------



## Morrus

Pretty hectic session last night!  Lots of panicking!


----------



## Diplomat123

Never mind the panicking.  Clive is dead!  My animal companion for three levels fell to some hyperactive drug-fuelled spider monstrosity with venom off the DC scale.  Is it going to give me any class issues if i start killing all spiders on sight?

Doug

Oh yeah, and the harpy that nearly killed two party members and the necromancer was quite tough as well.  But Clive was already dead by then...


----------



## HandofMystra

Morrus said:
			
		

> Pretty hectic session last night!  Lots of panicking!



Wait. Isn't that teasing in a Story Hour thread


----------



## kroh

Diplomat123 said:
			
		

> Never mind the panicking.  Clive is dead!  My animal companion for three levels fell to some hyperactive drug-fuelled spider monstrosity with venom off the DC scale.  Is it going to give me any class issues if i start killing all spiders on sight?
> 
> Doug
> 
> Oh yeah, and the harpy that nearly killed two party members and the necromancer was quite tough as well.  But Clive was already dead by then...




You guys might want o have your characters invest in some GUNS!
Regards, 
Walt


----------



## Eccles

The next morning, we gathered our equipment, sharpened our weapons and set out into the swamp, led by Malachite’s expert eye and the sharp nose of Clive the hulking ape. We slogged through the deep mud and brackish water for hours on end, and a little after noon came to a clearing just raised slightly from the swamp. Standing by a tree were two figures. We closed on them, and became nervous – there were two lizardmen standing, utterly immobile. 

The lizardmen were made of grey stone; reminiscent of that which we had seen a few days earlier when we rescued the small girl. One was plainly in a state of shock, whilst the other was in the process of raising its hands up to its eyes. There was no moss on either statue. We moved away swiftly, but just as we were pushing back into the swamp water, Malachite announced that the trail split.

“The two back there on the island are not part of the group we were tracking,” he announced. “Half head off to the east, and half go west.” 

We discussed briefly, and followed the eastern trail.

.oOo.

After another hour’s trudging through the thick mud, Malachite stopped our march again. “Webs”, he announced. He was right. The entire area of swampland before us was cloaked in a thick forest of cobwebs, some of which was almost half a inch thick. Malachite poked them with a stick, and then declared that the spider which had strung them together must be between 20 and 30 feet across. 

Seconds later, we heard movement. All of our heads (except Igmut’s), turned in the same direction at the sound of many heavy movements. Flynne crept out into the web-coated bushes, and returned to tell us that there was a central thick area of webs, which had a lizardman strung up in it. We moved towards this site, but as we set off, 2 positively huge spiders, each perhaps 15 feet in width rushed out towards us, biting at Clive and Igmut. 

The teeth dripped venom as the snapped within inches of Igmut’s armoured form, but the other one’s poison made the massive ape sag at the knees with its potency. Endo’s familiar swarm of tiny spirits clustered around the spider attacking Igmut, pulling at as-yet unseen injuries, before Flynne splashed through the swamp to hack a terrible wound in the creature’s hindquarters. Igmut, benefiting from the bolstering powers of my song, managed to cleave off one of the spider’s legs with his massive sword. 

From close to Clive and ‘his’ spider, there were a series of watery howls. I looked across, and could see the heads of several wolves just above the swamp-water, snapping at the spider to no avail. Then the spiders snapped back; but both massive sets of jaws slammed shut off-target. We breathed a sigh of relief and then returned to the brawl. 

Flynne’s enchanted longsword sliced upwards once again, and the spider’s guts spilled out into the slime, and then the enraged Clive tore into the second arachnid, which slumped under the punishment of so many injuries.

Just as we were ready to celebrate, there was a creaking cracking noise. We turned slowly, as a heavy bog-oak tree was torn in half, crashing to the floor under the weight of a two-foot thick hairy leg. We looked up… and up…

.oOo.

15 feet above our heads, and perilously close to Endo, there was an even larger spider. Its colossal body held a number of large black eyes which twinkled at us as ropes of venomous saliva dripped hissing into the mud at its feet. From behind me, Malachite chanted, and a bolt of lighting slammed down from the clear sky, slightly scorching the creature’s back, and filling the air around us with the stench of burning hair and ozone. 

Clutching his metamagic rod of swiftness, Endo blinked out a rapid spell, and the hurtled away from the creature at massive speed, pausing only to fling a second spell at the creature’s eyes. For an instant, we could see the milky white film of blindness swirling in the black eyes, but then the creature blinked, and the darkness returned. 

Hissing, the spider then darted forwards, twisting as it ran to shoot a thick stream of webs at Clive, sticking easily to his fur and entangling him in its strands. Flynne fired a shot off; the arrow breaking off as it struck the target. The spider cleaved down a summoned wolf with one limb before scuttling forwards, being bitten by a second wolf as it went; then more of the webbing shot out of its glands, this time gluing Igmut’s spear even tighter into his hand, and making his movement massively more difficult. Endo fired spells, Malachite began a second summoning spell, as the rest of us fired a barrage of arrows, bolts and slingstones at the beast, all to no great effect. 

Endo’s next spell was one of haste, followed up by firing another spell at the creature – his enfeebling ray of darkness shot clear over the creature and dissipated in the sky above. Despite our best efforts, however, the beast closed with Clive the ape, and the 8 foot wide jaws gaped and closed around the ape’s shoulders. Clive was practically brought to the floor in a single bite, and the venom reduced him to the strength of a child in an instant. 

My crossbow sang, striking a couple of times to a minimal effect, then Igmut shambled forwards, still encased in thick webs, stabbing upwards with his spear. Ichor poured from the two terrible wounds, but the creature stayed upright.

Over the next few seconds, more lightning slammed down from the sky, move wolves appeared from nowhere around the spider, biting out at it, but it was still alive, and its mandibles slashed downwards, tearing into Clive’s chest, snapping ribs as though they were twigs. As blood fountained upwards, we could see the beating heart of the brave ape. It pulsed once, twice, and then was still.
I raised my crossbow, sighted, and fired. The bolt flew true, through the ichor-stained maw, and up into the creature’s head. With a mighty crash, the titanic spider crashed to the floor. 

.oOo.

Over the next couple of hours, Clive was placed on a pyre, before we turned to the massive corpse. Malachite’s knife sliced expertly at it, and we took a number of bottles of the powerful venom. Then we returned to our plans. After a few minutes, there was a choking noise from behind us. We turned back to the massive corpse, and saw Flynne, frothing at the mouth, collapsing on the floor in convulsions. He was surrounded by arrows, many of which had dark venom on the tips. He had clearly been dipping his arrows in the frothing liquid before falling prey to the poison himself.

A while later, he was partly restored through the use of Igmut’s magics, and together we crept to the area where Flynne had seen the captured lizardman. When we arrived, the figure was clearly dead. 

As we began the slow process of picking through the spiders’ nest, another of the massive creatures appeared, picking its way delicately across the webbing. A barrage of missile fore hurtled at the creature, including a pinpoint shot from Flynne who was still incredibly accurate despite being as weak as a newborn. He was so accurate, in fact, that I cast a spell of invisibility on him, allowing his next shot to be placed so well that the spider squealed in agony. 

The creature skittered across the webbing and bit me in the shoulder. Blazing agony flared across my arm and chest, and I could feel my strength being sapped away by the creatures’ terrible venom. My eyes blurred, but I could still see Igmut’s sword cleaving the creature into two massive parts. The half-orc then turned to me, and helped minimise any further effects of the poison. We then returned to the nest, picking out any items of interest from the mess.

.oOo.

We were so weakened as a group that we decided it would be best to take some time to recover. Over the course of the next day, we could see Malachite talking to small animals, birds and other creatures, before stroking a large crocodile under the chin and crooning to it. He was followed by the creature that evening when he strolled back into the camp looking grimly determined. 

The next morning, Igmut and Malachite cast a series of spells on Flynne and I, returning our strength to normal. Clive’s pyre was lit, and we set out following Malachite for several hours. The trail wound out of the swamp up a slight rise, up a hillock clustered in mangaroo branches. As we walked the slope, Flynne halted us. He put one finger to his lips to silence us, and the pointed down at the floor. Concealed behind one cluster of branches was a dark opening in the hill. We had found the entrance to the lizardman lair.

.oOo.

The lair itself was thick with the branches of the mangaroo bush, woven together to form floors, walls and even the ceilings of the dark tunnels. The air within was humid, damp and musty.

Flynne sneaked into the tunnel, clutching an arrowhead lit by Igmut’s prayer to Kord. He returned in moments and beckoned us into the darkness. We paced down into the low hill, reaching a crossroads which would have been completely dark were it not for the lights we carried. We followed the tunnel to our left, after Igmut’s determination that the writings in his ‘Big Book of Kord’ saying “…and you shall stand to the left of the mighty” meant that we should take the left path in any option. “Left is the path of Champions!”

The tunnel was twisted and winding, and smelt of bat guano. Flynne’s reports came swiftly that there was something large perched in the darkness – a large perversion of the female form with red wings, hair and claws. Gripping our weapons tightly, we continued down the corridor. 

The instant I saw the figures on their perches, I recalled something about what they were and what they could do – but the details escaped me. Desperately, I struck up the chords of ‘The Song of the Harpy’ which spoke of the beasts and of their many powers. Even as I began to strum my lute, Flynne fired his first shot at one of two of the creatures within the room.

The other bird-woman began an eerie song, snaring the senses and drawing Igmut and Flynne closer to them. I could see their weapons lowering, but then realised the true secret to my chant. I raised my voice slightly, and changed tempo, and ‘The Song of the Harpy’ picked up on the enemy’s tempting song, perfectly harmonising, twisting around the magics of the harpy’s enchantment and neutralising them.

.oOo.

As the scrawnier of the two creatures swooped off her perch to strike at ‘Mr Punch’ the crocodile with a club, the other clung with her feet, drew a heavy longbow and fired a series of arrows at Igmut. 3 long shafts slammed into his chest, and dark blood that welled at the wounds was instantly frozen with some icy magic from the arrows. With a heavy metallic crash, the formerly healthy half-orc collapsed to the floor from his injuries. Seconds later, the roots which made up the ceiling began to twist and writhe, as Malachite’s spell of entangling tried to pin her in place.

As I bent to tip a potion down Igmut’s throat, Endo cast a spell over my head. His magic failed to take effect on the bow-wielding harpy. Seeing this, he raised the metamagic rod once again, and a second spell flashed out in the darkness. This also struck the harpy, who tore through it with her heavy claws. 

Even as Igmut stood and cast a powerful spell of healing to restore himself to some semblance of health, the bow-wielding harpy nocked three more arrows and fired smoothly at Flynne. The arrows smacked with pinpoint accuracy into his head and neck, and my elf friend collapsed to the floor. 

Again I stepped forwards, casting a healing spell on Flynne, who rolled to his knees and, still bleeding heavily, fired at the harpy with an arrow stained with the lethal snake venom. It smacked into her, but the poison didn’t take effect. 

As yet more spells slammed into her, and the smaller harpy was slain, the remaining bird-woman drew the bow once again, firing three shots at Endo this time. The wizard was struck in the hip, shoulder, and then the third arrow slammed home into his eyeball, and it was his turn to crash to the floor.

Igmut wheeled away from the combat, stepped over to Endo and tore the arrow from his eye, before casting yet another of his most powerful healing spells, returning Endo to the land of the living. My own spells to attack the harpy were completely ineffectual. 

Malachite was busy casting as well, as lightning crashed down from the room’s ceiling into the harpy for some slight charring, and a series of eagles appeared, circling around the room and clawing at her. Running low on options, Endo again cast his spell of hasting, hoping that it would give us time 

Gingerly, from his knees, Flynne drew and fired 2 more of his poisoned arrows, which bit deeply into her torso. She stiffened, and was immediately gripped and tied by the writhing roots.

The ancient elven tradition of the piñata was brought into effect, and our enemy was slain.

As we straightened, we could hear the pounding of lizardfolk feet coming at us from all directions. We looked at one another, nervously.

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

Questions – 

1.	Do basilisks hibernate?
2.	What’s the value of 4 doses of a DC 28, 2d6 Strength loss poison? (DMG p.296 for a starting point)
3.	How scary are harpies? (Particularly missile-fire optimised harpies of doom who hit every single person they shoot at with at least one critical?)
4.	How grateful were the party that we had a bard with us to neutralise the song of charming? Losing Igmut and Flynne to that thing in the first round would’ve been… well, calamitous is probably putting it mildly!


----------



## Eccles

Oh yeah - level 7 for myself, Flynne, Igmut and Endo. Malachite the druid is still at 6, but I'd imagine he'll catch up pretty sharpish.


----------



## DragonLancer

Just spent the last couple hours reading through all this. Fantastic story.

My players started AoW last weekend so it's good to see what your guys did or didn't do, and prepare for mine.

Heres to lots more updates.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Nice write up there Nik... finally caught myself up to date!

That uber harpy was quite terrifying - 3 longbow crits in 3 rounds will have that effect. I think Russ even apologised after the 3rd one. 

And you're quite right - we'd have been in an awful lot of trouble without your characters bard song. Those bardic songs are rapidly becoming one of my favorite things...


Good luck with the campaign Mr Dragonlancer! Hope your players enjoy it as much as we have.


----------



## Darmanicus

Yeah good luck with that DL, I know I am having a lot of fun with this campaign.

Shame about Clive, I really liked the poor ol' beggar. I suppose I'll love him just as much as an animated corpse


----------



## DragonLancer

When's the next update? 

Getting withdrawl symptoms overhere!


----------



## Eccles

The sound of footsteps continued to get louder and louder from both of the exits to the chamber we were in. Flynn faded from sight amongst the branches which made up the walls of the room; Igmut drew his heavy black spear and stood square in the middle of one of the two corridors; the rest of us loaded crossbows and prepared as best we could for our oncoming assailants. As the footsteps drew closer, I began a slow chant of encouragement, picking out the notes of the chant with my lute. 

The first of the oncoming lizardmen ran screaming out of the passageway to my right, straight onto Igmut’s spear-point. The point met the creature square in the centre of its chest, and Igmut twisted the spear viciously. The speed with which the creature charged meant that the spear-point burst from its back, and it managed to grip and pull itself some distance down the spear before the light faded from its eyes.

A second lizard charged from the same passage, and was nearly spitted in the same fashion; turning itself to one side at the last moment. This meant that it was merely heavily gouged to the side of its chest as it closed on Igmut. 

A third also dashed up from the same corridor, and was immediately impaled with two arrows from somewhere up in the ceiling. The magic from the captured bow saw the arrows tear into its arm and throat, spilling blood which immediately froze, tinkling frost-rimed ruby jewels pattering to the floor as the lizardman fell to the floor dead.

The remaining wounded lizardman waved its club, bashing Igmut on the shoulder. The half orc grunted, but didn’t really show any other sign of pain from the attack. 

At this point, my attention was drawn to the other corridor, as two more lizardmen dashed into the room. Mr Punch the crocodile snapped its jaws at one of them, missing, and then the lizardmen swung their clubs at the crocodile in return, but they were also off target. Endo fired his crossbow over the top of the crocodile, scoring a glancing blow off one of the foes.

.oOo.

In one smooth move, Igmut cast away the encumbered spear, drew his massive two handed sword, and cut down the remaining lizardman near him. Flynne fired again from his hiding place near the ceiling, killing it. This left only one. At this point I noticed that Malachite was no longer chanting – 2 wolves had sprung into existence a little further down the corridor, blocking the remaining lizardman into the room with us and gnawing on its leg. The crocodile itself spun on the spot, its heavy tail flailing and whacking the lizardman. It crashed against the wall, hit its head on a heavy root, and lay still.

With no more fighting to be done, Malachite instructed the two wolves to run off down the corridor to my left. They dashed into the dark, sniffing their way as they left the light. A short while after they had left our sight, we heard a yelping, a heavy thump, and then a reptilian roar of triumph.

.oOo.

We followed the course that the wolves had taken, which wound down a short slope further into the hill. At the bottom was another, much larger, chamber, which contained many grassy sleeping pallets, and was positively packed with lizardmen. 

The largest of these lizards stared towards us, and then simply said “close”. With this, there was a heavy rustling sound from behind us – the roots and branches which formed the cavern began to writhe and twist, joining up with one another, and forming a tight wall behind us, sealing off the passageway. The roots twisted and moved so fast that we were soon being pushed down the corridor, towards the host of lizardmen before us. 

As those at the back of our group were being pushed, we displaced the people at the front – Igmut and Mr Punch were unceremoniously forced into the room in front of some 20 lizardmen. At this point, we realised that they were all holding javelins, as they almost simultaneously hurled them at the crocodile and the half-orc.

Impaled by seven or eight javelins, Mr Punch died instantly, resembling something more like a giant porcupine than a crocodile in his death throes. A dozen more of the heavy iron-pointed weapons sailed towards Igmut, who gripped his sword and tucked his head down behind his shield as he came under attack. 

There was a series of heavy thuds, and I looked up. Long wooden shafts protruded from all around Igmut. I saw him lift his arm – and realised that one of the javelins I though was going into his chest had somehow landed between his arm and his body, imbedding itself in the wall. Grinning toothily, Igmut wiggled his fingers as though amazed that the hand was still working. Then he took a step forwards and bellowed “KORD!”

As he stepped away from the wall, he left a perfect Igmut-shaped silhouette of javelins in the foliage behind him. 

.oOo.

We began our assault on the many lizardmen. Flynne’s pinpoint accuracy failed him briefly, as his first arrow sailed over all the lizards facing us. His second caught the leader of the lizards in the eye. Frosty fluids foamed out of the eye socket, and the biggest of the scaled figures keeled over backwards. Flynne somehow then took a step to his left, and faded form sight once more in the darkness.

Igmut, uncommonly using a normal sized longsword and a shield, stepped into the room, dealing hideous injury to any lizard foolish enough to close on him. I chanted briefly, and hurled sonic power into the room, dazing and hurting a good half of the creatures into the room with the concussive force. 

Malachite and Endo stepped over Mr Punch’s body, both casting spells, and I was then unceremoniously shoved forwards myself, straight into another volley of javelins, one of which caught me in the shoulder. 

I stopped chanting, barely able to keep hold of the lute, and looked around to try to spot which of the green-skinned abominations had done this to me. 

Many other javelins, meanwhile, pattered off Igmut’s armoured form. He stepped further into the room, cleaving down two of the lizards, supported by a veritable menagerie of summoned creatures supplied by Malachite, whose chanting and supplications to the gods of nature had supplied him with a brace of earth elementals and a wolf. 

Flynne’s accuracy nailed two more of the lizards, and he looked around for another hiding place, hunkering down next to the fallen crocodile and once again not being spotted by any of the enemy. 

More javelins sailed towards us as Endo and I fired crossbows back into the room. Once again I was caught; this time in the left thigh; I looked up in agony to see still more javelins pattering off Igmut’s heavy armour and shield as though they were raindrops falling onto canvas. He stepped still further into the room and his magical blade tore down two more of the enemy.

Trying to compete, Flynne was only able to bring down one more with his arrows, injuring a second. I gave up on the crossbow, being unable to hit anything in the flickering torchlight with so many of the foes now engaged in combat with my comrades or our summoned assistance. I instead drew my rapier into my good hand, and limped forwards, choosing to parry his blows more than strike my own. My blade went wide when I thrust it at the scaled figure, which turned to strike me, and was immediately brought down from the side by Malachite’s scimitar blow.

Elementals and wolves claimed two more, and then the enemies fled from the room down a previously unseen side passageway; stragglers were brought down swiftly by Flynne’s bow and Igmut’s sword. 

.oOo.

As Igmut healed my wounds and I tried in vain to imitate the voice of the lizardman to re-open the passageway behind us, Flynne crept down the passageway down which a few of the lizards had managed to escape us. Moments after he left, there was a rustling noise, and branches moved themselves subtly across the entranceway, sealing him off away from us.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Nicely done there Mr Nik!

Still can't believe Igmut's luck with the javelins. Convinced he was going to be turned into a pincushion - getting caught like that without his shield out. Watched the GM roll a handfull of D20s and not get a single hit. Was freaky. 

A split party is going to leave us with some fun times ahead... lets hope we can get Flynne back in one piece.


----------



## Dpulse303

I really think i might have to stay hidden untill you guys can hack your way through the roots and foliage , one other possibility is that i take on about twenty lizardmen on my own...............or not.
i should have about 50 minutes left of the sneaky potion that enables me to hide so well but after that im not sure, surrender maybe?? 
anyway good write up Nik! and looking forward to tonight's sesh. see you all later


----------



## Eccles

Enthusiastically wielding his greatsword, Igmut noisily began to hack a narrow channel through the foliage towards the room we knew Flynne to be trapped in. Having slashed his way through over 20 feet of thick vines, Endo took over. He collected a large amount of rope and a couple of grappling hooks which we were carrying with us, and then tied the lot into the last part of the greenery. 

We prepared ourselves for the assault as Endo tightened the ropes and tested his pulley arrangement. I cast a spell of invisibility on Igmut so that he could enter the room without fear of javelin assault, whilst Endo’s wand stash was further drained to prepare everyone with a protection spell. Igmut’s prayers for power were rewarded with his muscles bulging and a glowing nimbus of energy surrounding and protecting him. 

When we were ready, Endo twisted and pulled on his ropes, and they worked well to pull the last of the hedge out of our way. As this happened, I started playing my lute, and could hear the enthused Igmut charging invisibly into the room. Within, there were perhaps 20 more lizardmen, although Igmut’s first blow slashed one to the floor and almost killed a second. 

Following Malachite’s chanting, a single wolf appeared in the room beyond, but it neither scored a hit on the plentiful lizardmen within the room nor was it struck itself in combat. Then the remaining lizardmen to the back of the room started to fling javelins; over a dozen hurtled towards Igmut and the wolf, clipping Igmut slightly whilst pincushioning and slaying the wolf almost instantly. Worryingly, one of the lizards at the back of the room chanted, and a large ball of fire sprang up largely blocking the passage into the room. 

Gritting my teeth, I dashed into the room, managing to backflip over the fireball as I went in. I drew my rapier, but missed the closest lizardman to me. Malachite followed me past the flaming sphere, clubbing one of the lizards before Igmut hacked down another foe and stepped towards another group. Endo also entered the room, yelling in pain and slapping at a burning spot on his robes. He reached into one concealed pocket and withdrew a parchment scroll. A few gestures and a string of eldritch syllables were read, and then he gestured. A torrent of flesh-searing acid poured into the room, gushing forth at his whim and covering a huge portion of the room.

Half of the foes died instantly in an appalling stench of burning flesh. Only two of those stood within the acidic onslaught survived it, and one horrified lizardman bystander immediately fled the room. 

.oOo.

Dropping from his hiding place in the ceiling, Flynne fired a couple of arrows, slaying the acid-scarred survivors of Endo’s spell. 

Malachite and I continued our stabbing and bashing, and the druid managed to kill the one lizard we had caught between us. The handful of remaining lizardmen pushed towards us, and Endo resorted to drawing a longsword from his belt, waving it ineptly – he missed by less of a distance than any of us expected. 

During the melee, I was clipped slightly by one foe’s club, and stood back to see Malachite smashing at lizards, whilst Igmut’s heavy blade hacked through the enemy as though they were wheat. When only two of the lizards remained on their feet, they turned to flee. Endo and I managed to wound one of them as they turned to go, but then Igmut’s massive greatsword brought them both down in a single sweep.

.oOo.

Standing amidst the acid-pitted bodies of the lizardmen, we discussed our options. We were uncertain of what to do, but generally we were very low on spells and reluctant to proceed any further into the complex. Then our discussions were cut short by a human’s screaming form the next room.

Moving to the entrance to that chamber, I shouted through in draconic, “there’s no need for this bloodshed to continue”. 

There was a brief pause, which I took to be a hopeful sign, but then the unseen man screamed once again in agony. A lizardman’s voice called back towards us. 

“Puny soldier fun to hurt!”

Gripping our weapons, we dashed down the corridor, to be met with the tableau of one large lizardman standing with 4 others. They all had better weapons and armour than their compatriots, and the largest of the 5 held a large trident which he was digging gleefully into the flesh of a battered soldier at his feet. A second unconscious body lay at his feet.

Behind me, there was a snarling growling sound. I turned, and where Malachite had been standing there was now a cheetah. The shapechanged druid hurtled down the corridor growling a spell, and by the time I caught up with him the room beyond was filled with branches and twigs which waved and snatched, entangling the lizardmen and restraining them. Two of Flynne’s arrows were already protruding from the largest of the lizardmen. 

“For that, your friend dies!”

The big lizard raised his trident and stabbed it downwards. The screaming human form jerked and gasped, and then was still. 

An eagle swooped down, summoned once again by Malachite, then two more of Flynne’s arrows slammed into the biggest target. The lizard grunted, but wasn’t showing any signs of being seriously hurt. 

Powering to the front, Igmut slashed wide, cutting through the air just above one of the two closest lizardmen. Both of them responded by screaming in frenzy; frothing at the mouth as they slashed with tooth and claw at Igmut, scoring deep scratches despite his heavy armour. 

Across the room, the big lizardman slashed out negligently, impaling the eagle with his trident. As the weapon drove home, a red glow and a hissing gas seeped out, enveloping the eagle in vapours. A second blow from the trident stabbed at the figure on the floor, but didn’t kill the remaining human captive. 

Two more arrows slammed home, but the big lizard stayed on his feet, growling his annoyance at the entangling vines which separated us.

.oOo.

Igmut and Malachite were both fully ensconced in the fight by this stage, and the rest of us gazed in horror as the lizardman leader raised and plunged his trident deeply into the body of the unconscious man on the floor. In a gout of blood, the man died. This was in turn followed by another brace of meaty thwacks, as Flynne drove two more arrows home. Snarling, the massive lizardman clawed the air in our direction before gently toppling to the floor, dead.

Malachite and Igmut hacked and snarled at the two raging lizardmen; Malachite managing to trip one of them to the floor. The lizardman climbed back up from the floor, but a swing of Igmut’s greatsword simply swept the draconic head from its shoulders. 

With only 3 lizardmen remaining in the room, I stepped in and drew my rapier again, however my lunge went wild in the entangling undergrowth. Also caught in the roots, Igmut was just slightly out of reach of his next opponent. He drew his sling and whirled it around his head whilst the rest of us shouted at him to use his longspear. Nonetheless, the heavy slingshot smashed into the chest of the lizardman and inflicting a terrible wound.

The injured creature responded by mauling Malachite with claws and bite, whilst just to one side I continued to wield my rapier; the blade skittering across the creature’s tough hide. As I recovered from my lunge, and noticed with dismay that it was raising its club in both hands with an evil glint in a snake-like eye; Igmut’s spear tore into its chest, and Malachite raked it with its claws. The creature chose to strike back at Malachite, savaging my druid friend, and his cheetah form sagged close to the ground, bleeding from many deep claw wounds.

Dashing across the snatching vegetation, Flynne appeared as if from nowhere; enchanted longsword clutched in his hands. With a couple of pinpoint blows, Flynne’s sword stabbed the creature viciously through the liver. And the kidney. To my side, Igmut bent and cast a spell of healing on Malachite, closing many of his terrible wounds. 

I struggled vainly against the trapping branches, whilst the remaining single lizardman tore free of the vegetation restraining him, and waded through the twitching branches towards me. He closed to within 10 feet of me, and I still had one foot soundly wrapped by a thick root. I pulled hard, but couldn’t escape. 

The lizardman grinned toothily, and drew a spear, then tried to take the last couple of steps to bring me within his reach. He stopped abruptly and looked down, having been snared once more himself. He turned back to me, and an instant later his spear slammed into my side, tearing through the links of my chain shirt. My return shot with my crossbow clipped the top off his ear. 

Abruptly, the lashing vegetation stopped moving. I was free once more! However, so was my opponent. However, before he could close on me, Malachite’s cheetah form hurtled past me, closely pursued by the greatsword-wielding Igmut. His sword flashed in the torchlight, and the lizard fell to the floor. 

.oOo.

Despite our being pitifully low on resources, Flynne and Malachite continued down the next passageway, this one sloping back upwards through the hillside. Flynne returned shortly afterwards to tell us that Malachite was having a conversation with a single lizard-woman. We crept up to join them at the end of their conversation. The two were in a small wood-decorated chamber, with a firepit and pool of water. The female lizard had the remaining two prisoners with her, including the warmage who we had come to rescue.

Malachite debriefed us when he had finished. We learned that the leader of these lizardmen was in a pact with ‘Ilthane’, the dragon which claimed these swamps as a hunting ground. The king of the lizardmen himself was engaged in the process of uniting the local clans, and had some 200 or more followers with the intention of taking arms against the local humans. 

The lizard priestess suggested to us that if we could kill the lizard king, she would stop the assaults and ensure that the lizards weren’t aggressive for as long as possible. 

.oOo.

After a brief discussion, we asked if there was somewhere we could rest to prepare for a battle. The reply was disconcerting.

“The king comes every few hours,” she hissed, gesturing at the two bound and injured prisoners. “He comes to strike the prisoners, ensuring that her arms and jaw are broken that she might not cast spells upon the tribes. I know not when he might come again, but certainly in less than 6 hours.”

The priestess explained the layout of the nearby tunnels to us, and confirmed that some of the lizardmen had been infected with the evil green worms. A final note of concern was that the priestess herself was no longer allowed into the egg chambers, by order of the king.

We sank to our haunches to make a plan…


----------



## El Jeraldo

Awesome wright-up! Though I can't figure out what acid spell it was that Endo used to basically clear out that room?

-El Jeraldo


----------



## DragonLancer

El Jeraldo said:
			
		

> Awesome wright-up! Though I can't figure out what acid spell it was that Endo used to basically clear out that room?




I figured something with the Energy Substitution feat.


----------



## Darmanicus

It was a spell I'd never heard of before, (can't remember the name now), that belonged to the mage we came to rescue.

9d8 damage   

Wipe out.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

It was called Caustic Spray? Or something like that. Worked a treat though! Really glad you had it...

Thanks for the write up Mr Nick!

Now we're in a pretty situation. Think plan A is to cast Daze repeatedly at the lizard king till he gets bored or dies of old age... It's about the limit of our gnarly powers!


----------



## Eccles

It was a 5th level spell he cast off a scroll. Endo has a pretty scary collection of spells from 3rd party sources.

As Al just said, we're in a bit of a pickle at the moment. Endo, Igmut and Malachite are all fresh out of spells (unless we can prepare the ones we've picked up since levelling), I've only got 2 more uses of bardsong left to me, and Flynne... Well, he's ready for another fight already.

The priestess says that the king's even tougher than the big guy with the trident; he took a ridiculous amount of damage to bring him down, and looked scary when we were doing it. We're not happy about taking on 2 more of him with the king at the same time without any magical support. 

Plans are being hatched. I'm just afraid that it's Morrus doing all the planning!


----------



## kroh

> There was a series of heavy thuds, and I looked up. Long wooden shafts protruded from all around Igmut. I saw him lift his arm – and realised that one of the javelins I though was going into his chest had somehow landed between his arm and his body, imbedding itself in the wall. Grinning toothily, Igmut wiggled his fingers as though amazed that the hand was still working. Then he took a step forwards and bellowed “KORD!”




Freakin Cool!

Regards, 
Walt


----------



## Eccles

Using a number of charges from our wands of healing, we restored the two captives. Aware that we only had a little while until the lizardman King came to attack us, I spent much of next hour speaking to the priestess about their community, their king, and what else she could tell us. Most of it was discouraging – Shucack the king was a spellcaster-hating psychopath, likely to target the least combat-able members of our party before turning on the bigger targets. As if to make matters worse, the King was in frequent contact with the dragon Ilthane, who had been providing him with an elixir to strengthen him and his bodyguards.

I then crept part-way down the tunnel, assisted by Flynne. At the furthest end of the King’s access tunnel, I cast a spell of alarming which would give us an instant’s notice when he and his bodyguards headed in our direction. Using my disguise kit, I made the two former captives look as beaten up and haggard as they were before, and Flynne tied a complex series of slip-knots which looked secure, but from which they could easily pull free.

We waited.

.oOo.

3 hours later, there was a tickling sensation in the back of my mind. My warding spell had been tripped! 

I warned the others, and we began a hasty round of spellcasting. Flynne climbed up a wall and concealed himself behind some roots. Igmut cast a spell of self-improvement, whilst Endo and Malachite cast a spell each to further improve our effectiveness. I cast a short spell which caused Igmut to fade from sight so that he could stay in the room with us. 

As Endo then took the priestess and her large snake companion out of the room, I used my hat of disguise to assume her form, whilst Malachite used a druidic power of his own to warp into the snake’s twin. I had just enough time to cast a cantrip to make the fire in the room hiss and whisper with a dozen mysterious voices when the King entered.

“My liege,” I began. “The Gods have spoken, and I have been granted audience. They tell me that the pale skinned invaders are resting, and that this would be the ideal moment to assault them.”

“Witch, I have no need of your babblings,” came the reply. The huge mottled black skinned lizard King was flanked by a pair of similarly mottled lieutenants. The King himself sported a short pair of horns atop his head, and carried a truly enormous trident. 

“Tell me what you know, and be done with it,” he continued. 

“The gods have spoken,” I began again, gesturing at the fading whispering and hissing which echoed around me. “Many of their chosen people have fallen, and they would see the slaughter come to an end. They have told me that the key to defeating the pale skins lies in the spirits of the fallen. They have instructed me in unlocking the powers of those who died in defending our homestead. With a drink from their hidden elixir, your great powers will be magnified so that you could not be defeated.”

As I spoke, I called upon the hidden secrets of bardic lore, allowing the cadence of my words to time with their breaths, and lull them into a false sense of security. As I could sense them feeling safe and comforted by my words, then I produced the ‘hidden elixir’ from my bag of holding. Three vials of the dark viscous liquid which Malachite had pulled from the intestines of the giant spider in the swamp. I jiggled them attractively in my hands and proffered them to the lizard King.

“Enough of this, witch. I should ensure that these prisoners are secure and unable to move, and then we will finish our discussions.” The towering lizardman turned to the two apparently injured prisoners, and raised the but end of his trident with obvious relish. 

“My liege,” I interrupted. “You and your men _must_ drink these vials _now_.”

Again, I pushed my will on the huge creature. I could see his hands on the trident tremble briefly, and then he turned on me.

“I will take your advice, witch. Then beat you for your nerve in addressing me in such tones.”

The king and his followers snatched up the vials, raised them to their cold lips, and drained them completely. Grinning in triumph, I watched their every move, my fellows hidden around the room poised to spring the trap.


----------



## Eccles

Absolutely nothing happened.


----------



## Eccles

I usually write up the whole last session, but I'm a bit under the weather, so the rest is going to have to wait for a while!


----------



## Tamlyn

Alright. You're a complete and utter rat bastard! Other than that, I completely enjoy the story and hope you feel better quickly.


----------



## Eccles

I stared in horror at the three massive lizardmen, who tossed aside the empty poison flasks and glared back at me.

“Is that it,” bellowed the King. “Am I now supposed to be invincible? I shall test my new strength on the prisoners.”

Once again, the psychopathic lizard monarch turned on the two supposed captives, who lay on the floor trying hard not to twitch. Concerned, I interrupted him once again.

“My liege, there appears to be something amiss with the flow of the magics. Allow me but to examine you.”

Swiftly, I cast a spell of magical sight, and scrutinised the figures before me. I could see Igmut, sword drawn, standing to one side of them cloaked in the invisibility spell I had cast on him earlier. I could also see Malachite, swathed in transmutation magics, warped into the form of a large snake. The lizardmen wore enchanted necklaces and bracers giving them some kind of protection, and each of them was cloaked in some kind of powerful enchantment. They all held magical tridents, although the king’s was the most alarming, both in terms of power, and because he was raising it to stab at the prisoners.

“The necklaces must be protecting them!” Yelling this in common, I dived for some cover and started up a chant of encouragement for the others. Even as I leapt back, Flynne swung down from the ceiling, firing 2 shots at the king whilst hanging by his knees from the roots of the roof. 

From my rear, Endo stepped around into sight chanting, and my mystical sight could see the null-magic of his spell rippling around the targets, and stripping away the enchantment around the king, the dark aura surrounding him being stripped away in an instant. The captured soldier scrambled to his feet and dashed backwards, firing a captured crossbow wildly in a panic as he went. 

Igmut blinked into view, his heavy sword swinging for the king’s neck with pinpoint accuracy. It sliced through the cord fastening the magical necklace to the huge figure’s neck, and we all held our breaths for a split second, willing the poison to take effect.

It didn’t.


----------



## Firedancer

I just had to drop a note; what a wonderfully underhand plan!
I was so disappointed for you that the poison has not taken affect, I can only imagine your own responses!

When did Morrus engage smug-mode?


----------



## Morrus

It was a really good plan; I was almost disappointed knowing it wouldn't work.


----------



## Firedancer

Almost but not quite eh?

Still, seems you're all having a ball.
And you're entertaining me, so that's a bonus!


----------



## Dpulse303

Cmon Nic finish the blooming update!, 
i know you wanted to "maintain the suspension" throught this one ...
but this is taking the p*$$ so get writing!!
cheers dude   


p.s. none of those sad excuses about being ill ,cos i know you went to your other session on saturday.


----------



## Eccles

As his necklace clattered to his feet, the King stabbed Igmut in the arm with his heavy black trident, and then stepped back behind his two bodyguards, clearly intending for them to take the brunt of our assault. 

As this was clearly going to be a vicious struggle, Malachite’s features warped once again, as his slim serpentine form warped into that of a snarling wolverine. Flynne, still hanging upside-down from the ceiling, fired twice at the King, although the arrows glanced of his scaled form and flew off down the corridor. 

The lizard king disappeared at this point, behind the wall of flesh which was his two bodyguards. One slashed down at Malachite’s small animal form, tearing open a wound with the point of its trident. The other launched his through the air towards Flynne, but missed as he hauled himself flat to the ceiling. The trident embedded itself in the roots, but then faded from sight. I looked around myself, trying to see where the weapon had gone, and to my horror saw it fading back into view in the lizardman’s claws.

To my left, I could hear Endo chanting the words to one of his two remaining spells – his own invention _Endo’s Freaking Paranoia_. He gestured at one of the guards, and a slight dazed expression crossed its draconic features, before it shook its head, and returned to trying to brutally slaughter Malachite. 

I decided at that point to cease my encouraging chant, leaving its lingering effects in my comrades’ hearts, and cast a spell of my own, flinging the effect of a _Sound Burst_ towards the King and one of his men. They were both shocked by the noise, and to my great relief, the guard was temporarily stunned, dropping his enchanted trident at his feet. The human soldier seized his moment by snatching up the weapon and darting back behind me and my comrades. 

Marzena, the captive warmage, summoned up a large ball of flame, calling it into existence around the King, and his bellows of pain could be heard echoing around the chamber. Again Igmut slashed the King heavily with his enchanted longsword, clutching his magical shield in his other hand. Despite its protection, the trident bit deeply into the half-orc’s side. Malachite bit out at one guard, but was then hit several turns in turn by the furious lizardmen, multiple trident stabs causing him terrible wounds. From up in the ceiling, Flynne’s bow sang on, sending arrow after arrow slamming into the lizard king. 

After an instant’s chanting, Endo sent a dark ray across the room, striking and draining strength out of the King’s heavy frame. He sagged considerably, but kept lashing out at Igmut, stepping away from the ball of fire which simply moved to keep up with him, scorching him over and over again, whilst Marzena cast other spells of fire at the bodyguards. 

“KORD!”

Bellowing, Igmut raged, foam springing to his lips as he drew his heavy greatsword and stepped up to the King. There was a heavy swing, and an equally massive backswing. Igmut’s swordwork left two terrible wounds across the lizard king’s torso. Still sagging from Endo’s spell, the King turned on his heels and dashed out of sight. 

.oOo.

Flynne dropped from the ceiling, twisting like a cat to land perfectly on the floor before dashing across the room with sword in hand to stab at the lizardman who was poised triumphantly over Malachite’s heavily injured form. Another blow brought Malachite almost to the point of death, critically injured and only just capable of moving, whilst the other guard slashed across Igmut’s chest, adding to the huge number of tears in his flesh; blood poured down his lumpy flesh. 

Endo, now wielding a wand in each hand, stepped fully into the room and pointed with his left hand, wreathing one of the two guards in dozens of familiar tearing and rending spirits, which added their own agonies to any wounds we could inflict. I joined the spellcasting by dashing up and healing Igmut somewhat with a spell of my own, whislt Marzena’s ball of fire bounced across the room to burn at the cursed lizardman. 

Igmut looked mournfully down the corridor along which the King had fled, before turning back to the room and, still in a towering rage, slammed his sword down heavily twice on one of the guards. Malachite also carved into the tottering lizardman, his teeth biting deeply into the creature’s calf. He tore free, and with a spray of arterial blood and the whispering of Endo’s necromantic curse, the creature collapsed to the floor.

Another curse flew from Endo’s hand, afflicting the other lizardman, and we dashed to surround him. Igmut moved first, with a huge sweep of his sword, accompanied by a huge gout of blood. Flynne danced across the room, swinging his sword, and I followed, pulling out a wand and using some of its power to cure Igmut somewhat. Finally, the ball of fire bounced across the room, and the lizardman collapsed in its heat.

.oOo.

We paused in the room as Igmut, Malachite and I all used healing wands to bring all of us back to a healthy state, which took some time given how heavily injured Malachite and Igmut were, before we gave chase after the King. 

Following him down the dark corridor, we reached a junction which the lizard priestess had explained to us. To the right was a closed off chamber, in which lay a number of the lizardmen who had been infected with the strange worm-plague. The King wouldn’t have gone that way. Straight ahead was the king’s chamber, at the door of which I had set my spell of alarm. I could sense that it had not been tripped, and therefore we knew that the King could only have gone to the left, towards the egg-laying chamber, through the deep water of a flooded tunnel.

Inspired, Igmut began to chant, casting one of his last spells for the day on us. By a miraculous coincidence, Igmut had been holding onto a spell of water breathing, which allowed us all to step casually into the flooded tunnel and walk towards where we knew the King to be. Igmut and Flynne took the lead down the long dark tunnel, whilst I was delighted to learn that my ever-burning torch continued to flicker with light even whilst underwater!

.oOo.

I emerged from the tunnel to the sounds of combat. 8 small, dark, scaled yipping forms were clustered around the legs of Flynne and Igmut (who had half a dozen small vine-line nooses wrapped around his legs, clearly from some traps within the tunnel). The sounds of tiny crossbows could be heard clicking, and tiny bolts clanking off Igmut’s heavy armour. 

I left the water fully, and could hear a bellowing sound from further into the cavern. From behind a huge pile of rocks emerged the lizardman king, completely healed and standing proud and erect, clearly no longer affected by Endo’s strength-draining spell. His trident flew across the room and crashed into my chest. As stars erupted in my vision, I could just barely see the trident fading away and re-appearing in its owner’s hands.

Despite my wound, I could feel Endo from the water behind me pressing a wand into my hand as a kobold jabbed at me. From my side, Igmut’s heavy greatsword simply swept the creature from my path. 

I raised the wand and pointed it at the King, triggering its magic with an effort of will as I had seen Endo do so often in the past. It worked, and the wailing spirits hurtled out of the thin wooden wand and wreathed around the heavy-set lizardman. By the eerie light of the spell, we could see a huge array of eggs, all lying in a shallow pool some 30 feet across. At the back of the pool lay a single huge black egg, easily three feet in height. Just beyond the pool were three chests, two of which were already open and surrounded by a small heap of empty potion vials, clearly used by the King in an effort to restore himself.

.oOo.

Flynne scrambled up the pike of rocks and began to pour fire down on the King, whilst behind him Marzena the warmage scrambled out of the water and cast a spell, sending sheets of flame over the kobold creatures, scorching many of them. Igmut set about himself with his sword, incredibly not managing to kill one with a swing; the effects of our magical exhaustion beginning to be most telling. 

Near Igmut, Malachite tossed down a feather, which writhed and extended, transforming into a long weaving whip, lashing out and damaging one of the kobolds. 

The King’s trident hurtled over the heap of stones, slamming deeply into Flynne, who fired once down the side of the slope before leaping down and taking cover amongst us. 

Marzena’s sheets of flame dropped a couple of the snapping kobolds, whilst Igmut and Malachite laid about themselves with weapons, and within a few moments there were only 2 left supporting their king, who hurled his trident once again, narrowly missing Igmut.

Endo cast another enfeebling spell, clutching a pearl of power, which lost some of its shiny lustre as he chanted. The lizard king’s eyes rolled to the heavens as his body sagged once again under the power of Endo’s spell. 

The kobolds proved wholly ineffectual, flailing and missing both Malachite and Igmut, before being slain by another of Marzena’s sheets of fire. Igmut paused for a second to pray and cast his last spell – enhancing himself for the fight against the King. 

Still dripping with water, Endo chanted, and a grey and ghostly hand materialised next to him, and began to float gently towards the King, who looked up towards us and snarled.

“Do not enter this chamber. You do not know the dangers, outsiders!”

We looked nervously at one another, and then simultaneously all drew missile weapons and trained them on the lizard king. 

Marzena moved first, summoning up yet another huge ball of fire, which began to chase the King around the egg-pool, burning him whenever he paused to throw his trident at one of us. Each time it made contact, Endo’s wand-spell which I had set upon him wailed and gouged at the burns. Spell, slingstone, arrow and bolt were fired in a vicious barrage, whilst the King moved around the edge of the pool, doing his best to avoid the ball of fire, but frequently getting caught in the flames. The King flung his trident at Igmut, hurting him, but was then subjected to yet more of our missile weapons. 

In response, the massive lizardman reached to a bandolier he was wearing, snatched up a small flask, and draining it. Immediately he began to move faster and more fluidly. Endo responded by hurling a tanglefoot bag at the weakened lizardman, which covered his form in thick glue-like strands, sticking him to the floor in an instant. More missiles slammed into his heavy-set frame, whilst Marzena began to throw small ice-spells at him, clearly now running out of spells herself. 

Swallowing deeply, Malachite stepped into the egg-chamber to get a better line of sight on the King, and was immediately caught in the throat with the thrown trident, causing him yet another dreadful and life-threatening wound. A cloud of dark mist began to seep around Malachite’s mouth and nostrils, but he snorted, expelling whatever dreadful sorcery.

I finally restored myself to some semblance of health with the curing wound, removing the worst of the damage the King had down to me by throwing his trident earlier, before moving across and passing a second wand from my bag to Marzena. She grasped it, and began to fire small globes of force at the lizardman, each made all the more dangerous by the necromantic curse of Endo’s wand. 

In response, the King drank yet another potion, which sealed up many of his serious wounds. In turn, I triggered the wand in my hand, which had a similar (albeit much smaller) effect on Igmut. 

Still under fire, the King drank another flask, and immediately vanished from sight. In response, I dived into my haversack and produced a scroll, which I passed to Endo. He read from it, and a glittering golden dust floated down, landing on and around the spot where the lizard-king was still glued to the spot. He was once again made visible, this time in glittering silhouette. 

We continued to hammer the King with missile fire, backed with the wand of magic missiles wielded by Marzena. Each shot which struck was backed with the strength of the curse, tearing the wound to be all the worse. In some desperation now, the lizard-king drank _another_ potion, which made his silhouette grow slightly in strength and stature, although not enough to counter-act Endo’s spell of enfeeblement. 

Remembering his spear, and having seen nothing unpleasant happen to Malachite, Igmut stepped into the egg-chamber, casting his sling to one side and stabbing the King, who bellowed in fury and rage, his glittering form thrashing around in the glue, but thankfully unable to break free. Flynne sighted his bow, and then his arrows flashed through the air. With a crash, the glittering, invisible, enfeebled, cursed, raging, strength-enhanced, glued lizardman fell to the floor. The day was ours.

Pausing only to glance nervously at the eggs, we collapsed in a heap in the egg-chamber.


----------



## Firedancer

What an epic struggle!
Sure you didn't miss any condition affecting the king there Eccles?


----------



## Dpulse303

Woo-hoo


----------



## Dpulse303

WOO-HOO that write up totally does the encounter justice , and was well worth the wait , very good work Nic , 
I had forgotton what a slug fest that fight was but that bought it all back and had me on the edge of my seat.
roll on next thursday.


----------



## Darmanicus

It was an awesome session and, yay, great write up Nik, you really captured it. I was really not sure we would do the king considering we were mostly out of spells, (in fact everyone apart from Flynn, because we haven't had the opprortunity to rest, haven't been able to use our top level spells for 2 levels!!! In fact since gaining access to them we've not had a chance to use them!).

We SOOO need some rest.


----------



## God

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> We SOOO need some rest.




Endo SOOO needs to learn Rope Trick (ie, the 11th Commandment: And thy Magic User shall scribe spells of climbing ropes into unseen pockets, lest small, yipping scaly-things gnaw at thy flesh whilst thy lay abed in stony chambers).

And no more killing of cool PCs. Morrus I command thee.


----------



## kroh

Holy running  gun battle!  Good thing they left the guns out of the adventure!
Regards, 
Walt


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

It was one epic fight. That guy took one hell of a pounding before he gave up... think we were about >< close in the first encounter! 

Think we gave Morrus a minor headache adding up all the conditions on the king. By the end of it, think his buffs had just about counteracted all the debuffing. 

Shame the poison didn't work, but what can ya do? Still, probably would have been less dramatic.


----------



## Eccles

Just to announce that Igmut and Evan are updated in the Rogues Gallery 

If you others want to update your characters, feel free!


----------



## Eccles

Still buried deep within the lair of the lizardfolk, we scrutinized the eggs in their most protected chamber. Learning nothing beyond the certainty that the large black egg had come from a dragon, I left the others to tend their wounds and consider the other tunnel leading out of the egg-laying chamber, and crept back up the flooded tunnel to speak with the priestess, telling her that the task was complete. 

Looking relieved, she returned with me to the egg chamber, where she looked around before speaking.

“You have my thanks. You have that of the whole tribe. You have achieved more than I could have hoped. However, I – what is *that*?”

She rushed over to the egg and ran her hands over it. 

“Dragon,” she whispered in terrified awe, looking around the chamber as though the creature might be in the room with us. Her eyes settled on the other passageway out of the egg chamber, and she pointed to it.

“That was not here before. And don’t you think that it’s a little… wide for lizardmen?”

We looked. She was right. The tunnel was wide and water filled, although it looked a little narrow at the top as the opening was ringed with weeds and pond-scum. Pushing these to one side, we registered how large the passageway was; almost twenty feet, and the vegetation of the walls was damaged, broken and scratched as though something truly massive had pushed its way through into this egg-laying chamber from somewhere beyond.

We left. Fast.

.oOo.

Settling down amongst the relative luxuries of the lizard-king’s throne room, we continued our discussions with the priestess. 

“You may stay here,” she said, “and I will promise you the safety of our lair. I will ensure your safe passage back to your human lands, and will do all I can to restrain the tribes’ baser instincts. However, I would make one more request of you. I would ask if you could speak with the leaders of your tribes, to reach an agreement – I would have a lasting peace with the human lands.”

We spent a little while discussing the details, before resting – a deep and well deserved sleep.

.oOo.

The next morning, the priestess was good to her word. A new passageway had sprung up in the night, and we were able to leave the lair without passing a single other lizardman. Our two day trek through the swamp was similarly peaceful, although we were nervous at the sight of any winged beasts we saw overhead for fear of the dragon.

We reached Blackwall Keep, and saw immediately that soldiers had returned to garrison the fortress. Dozens of tents and corrales of horses ringed the keep, and over two hundred soldiers clustered around us as we approached them, caked as we were in swamp-mud, lizardman blood and the ichor of many giant spiders.

As the man from the fort came down to see what was going on, I leapt onto a baggage-cart, and regaled the men with the tales of what had happened in the swamp. They were overcome with the story, thrilled by the savagery of the giant spiders, some wept openly as I spoke of Clive the ape’s terrible sacrifice in combat. They listened in rapt silence to our tale of entering the lizardman lair, where I dwelt a while on their noble sacrifice in trying to keep us out of their homes. I spoke of the similarities with the human soldiers, and my audience was caught by my descriptions of what happened. They cheered at Igmut’s strength against innumerable foes, thrilled at Endo and Malachite’s sorceries, and marvelled at Flynne’s bravery at being trapped in a room filled with the enemy. Finally, they were excited by the savagery of the huge lizard king, who I painted as a mad and savage beast, ruling his peaceful people with a warlike fist. They cheered as I spoke of the final combat, wincing at descriptions of massive blows and titanic enemies. Although I didn’t speak of our attempted deception or the possibility of their being a massive dragon in the swamp, I left my audience in awe of us, and with a respect for the nobility of the lizardman people.

.oOo.

Later on, we spoke to the garrison commander and Allustan in private, where we told them of the possibilities for peace, the fact that the lizardmen were also affected by the plague, and that there was probably a massive black dragon somewhere in the swamp (and in all probability, had been there for some time). 

Although the commander fixated somewhat on the threat from the dragon, he paused to tell us that the infected soldiers in the keep’s basement had overcome their restraints, and had begun to drag healthy soldiers in with them. Within an hour, the healthy soldiers had joined the zombie-like infectees, gaining great strength, but becoming desperate to attack and savage their fellow men. 

With the arrival of the new garrison soldiers, the commander had taken the difficult decision to put down the menace, and had ordered the slaughter of the savage infectees in the basement. 

Allustan, a witness to the slaughter and the worm-menace, had come to the realisation that this threat was greater than he had first thought. However, he had reached the fullest extent of his knowledge, and suggested that we seek out Eligos, a sage and hunter of beasts who dwelt in the Free City, a day or two’s travel to the north. We set out almost immediately.


----------



## Eccles

That's the first page of my notes done. <flip, flip>

Eep! I took 14 pages of notes this week? Damn it!


----------



## HandofMystra

Fantastic, what a good read. These last three posts have been particularly exciting. I Liked your recitation to the soldiers - nice DMing to have the soldiers respond so enthusiastically to the PCs deeds.


			
				Eccles said:
			
		

> Eligos, a sage and hunter of beats who dwelt in the Free City, a day or two’s travel to the north.



 I assume that Eligos is a hunter of beasts?
I wonder why you did not destroy the dragon egg? I am not sure taht an enraged mamma dragon is worse in the long run than two dragons.


----------



## stonegod

What has raised my interest is how Morrus has changed a certain encounter that was initially supposed to be at the keep. I wonder if a different form will show up later. It was one of the more memorable moments in my campaign, though I spruced it up a bit to make it more evil.


----------



## Eccles

HandofMystra said:
			
		

> I assume that Eligos is a hunter of beasts?
> I wonder why you did not destroy the dragon egg? I am not sure taht an enraged mamma dragon is worse in the long run than two dragons.




Darn it. I could argue that he was a hunter of beets, but I'm not sure there's much challenge in hunting vegetables. Duly changed, thank you!

We left the egg alone for several reasons. We were knackered, with only about 3 cantrips between us in a very magic-heavy party. Morrus has been known to add abilities to dragons, like knowing what's going on in their lairs instantly. We were scared of any curses on the chaos tainted egg. Oh, and we didn't want to hang around in a room the dragon could burst into at any instant. We figure any baby dragon's going to take a while to get ready and be a threat...

There was something else I was intending to say in this post, but I have *absolutely* no idea what it was...


----------



## Eccles

After a brief stop at Blackwall Keep, we travelled on to the Free City, arriving there after a couple of days of peaceful travel. The huge walled city stood abreast of a massive slow-moving river, and as we closed in on it, we realised that each gate-point was the focus of a long queue of people. We neared, and realised that many scores of people were waiting patiently in line, some with carts and mules, others with simple bags and backpacks, but almost everybody carrying something. And every single person entering the town was being searched. 

After two hours of waiting in line, my heavily armed, armoured and sweating friends and I were becoming fairly fractious by the stage we neared the front. We had learned that the guardsmen were searching for the ‘usual’ items – magic items which could significant damage to the city, poisons, or other illegal items. Flynne and I looked around for a short period, moving a few small items around in our packs before we straightened up for the last few people in front to move on. 

I strolled up to the guardsmen as soon as the way was clear, smiling broadly and chatted with them, surreptitiously adjusting the flask of highly toxic spider venom tucked under my armpit as a small handful of silver coins changed hands. I was briefly patted down, before being granted entry into the city. 

Flynne, having buried his toxic arrows at the bottom of his quiver, was allowed through in turn, as was Igmut (after a particularly thorough search revealed nothing which could be construed as illegal). Malachite was also allowed entry, by which time the guards were looking distinctly irritated. To nobody’s surprise, they spent a _long_ time searching Endo’s pack, and demanded that he describe for them the effects of every spell which was in his spellbook. We all noticed he glossed over the particular effects of one or two which we had seen in action, before…

“Aha!” One of the guards sounded triumphant, as he heaved a sack out of Endo’s backpack. “What have we here?” 

Tipping the bag, several carved rocks fell to the floor. The remaining thunderstones he had brought from the travelling gnomes a couple of weeks previously. The guard sergeant pointed at them.

“Dangerous,” he announced smugly.

Endo spluttered. “Dangerous? They’re just thunderstones – they make a loud bang, and -“

He was cut off. “A loud bang? Explosions, more like. Could dangerously undermine the fabric of the city. Banned.”

I cut in, draping my arm over the sergeant. Some gold changed hands, and the man’s eyes boggled before it vanished inside his tunic. I took advantage of his good mood to gesture to Endo, who swept up his thunderstones, and was soon chatting like an old friend with the sergeant. He told us where Eligos lived, and recommended a good inn for us before the loud grumblings from the people in the queue made him turn his attention back to his duties, and we turned ours to the Free City itself.

.oOo.

We strolled into the town, and were soon very thoroughly lost. We followed the pressure of many people who were all headed in the same direction, and found ourselves as part of a thronging mass of people lined along the sides of a wide cobbled street. We heard music and banging drums, before dancers, acrobats and jugglers passed us and the cheering crowd. They were followed by a series of rolling cages on wheels, pulled by strongmen or fabulously braided and painted horses. The cages themselves contained exotic creatures or monsters, each more fabulous than the one before it. 

One cage, which was drawing more gasps from the crowd that any other was a heavy iron cage, with deep coloured glass between the metal bars. Within raged a massive beast; heavy set leonine shoulders topped by draconic wings which had been savagely torn with a weapon to ensure the creature could not fly. The beast had not one, but three different heads; a goat, a lion and a gaping draconic maw, which as I watched blasted forth a bolt of pure electricity. The lightning smashed against the glass, and then played up and down the iron bars, earthing itself without hurting the startled crowd.

I turned away to see what might be in the next cage, and therefore I didn’t see what caused the chimera’s wagon to tip. I heard the crash, however, as the creature’s cage tipped up and slid off the suddenly broken wagon. The glass shattered, and the door slammed wide open, the chimera springing out to wreak its terrible fury on the suddenly screaming crowd.

.oOo.

With dozens of people screaming and running in many directions, the savage beast fixated on one unmoving figure – a small girl who had lost her mother and was frozen in place with terror. As the beast sank to its haunches and readied a pounce, Flynne sprang into action. Backflipping over some heads and twisting nimbly between the onrushing crowd, he grabbed the child and pulled her to safety, shielding her slim body with his own. 

I unslung my lute from its backpack and began a popular heroic song in a loud high voice which carried clearly over the crowd. Many people were reassured by the familiar sound, whilst others ceased screaming to look around. Reassured by the noise, the screaming abated, and the people around me began to more in a more orderly fashion, whilst at the same time, the more martial nature of the song lent strength to my comrades in a way that was now very familiar to them.

Igmut was then poised to swing into action, unfastening his longspear from its travelling ties and turning to face the monster, but Malachite yelled out “hang on”, and began chanting whilst working his way towards the half-orc. Well practiced, Endo was already chanting a spell to curse the creature, gesturing and sending a dark curse which struck at the beast’s eyes. It shook its head, and the gathering milky clouds suddenly left its many eyes as Endo’s spell failed. As part of a well-oiled clockwork device, Malachite released his spell of strengthening onto Igmut, who then bulled his way through the now more sensible crowd. He closed on the beast and thrust the head of the spear deeply into its shoulder.

Screaming in pain, the beast turned to face Igmut, unleashing a flurry of savage claws and bites at him, gashing his flesh in a couple of places but not causing any injury heavy enough to bother the massive half-orc. 

Flynne dashed towards the other side of the beast, drawing a cosh from his belt as he ducked under a swinging tail, but his swing went wide of the mark, glancing off the maimed wing rather than stunning the creature as he had intended.

I took my hands off my lute and stopped singing, confident that the effects of my music would last for long enough to keep the crowd calm and my friends enthused. I instead picked out a couple of notes to help my memory I cast one of the spells which I had recently learned, speeding the reflexes all of my friends (as well as the little girl, one bystander and a rather confused nearby juggler) to aid them as the fight continued in the street. 

Igmut reversed his spear, smashing repeatedly at the creature with the butt end, the power of the hastening spell meaning that he struck it more times, and with more accuracy than would ever have been the case normally. The creature responded by turning and belching electricity at him from the central draconic head. The creature was clearly greatly weakened by its time in captivity, as a feeble jolt of electricity played briefly over Igmut, causing him barely any pain before Flynne, also affected by the spell of speed, jumped onto the creature’s back, coshing each of the creature’s heads in turn. All three slumped, and the chimera crashed to the floor unconscious.


----------



## Eccles

The crowd as a whole erupted into cheers as the chimera slumped to the ground unconscious. A heavy-set blonde woman rushed towards Flynne, screaming “my angel!” at the top of her lungs, before sweeping him and the small child he had rescued into a bone-crushing hug of gratitude. The owner of the creatures in the parade passed him a few gold pieces in gratitude for his foresight in not killing the beast.

Endo and Malachite joined in the renewed celebrations, whilst Evan surveyed the crowd, the lingering effects of the magical song still empowering and enthusing many of the people around him. Igmut, meanwhile, was patting madly at his pockets and dragging the pack of his shoulders. 

“Scroll is gone,” he announced irritably to his companions. 

The group discussed this loss, but realised swiftly that there was no way that they could trace the scroll in the middle of such a large crowd, and they set off to explore a little more of the Free City.

.oOo.

Having wandered aimlessly down a sequence of winding streets, they reached an open courtyard, at one end of which clustered a small knot of people. Standing atop a barrel was a man in a ratty robe, screaming and shouting at the crowd, who largely ignored him, being more interested in the wares being sold by a travelling salesman nearby. 

“Listen,” shouted the man. “Listen to the tales of the doom which stands before your sightless eyes! Heed the dead dragon’s roar! Fear the Age of Worms, which fast approaches! Harken to the terror of the Worm that Walks, which brings rot to all that it touches!”

Igmut cheerfully wandered over to the man, and engaged him in a peculiar conversation, which saw the self-styled “Profit of Kord” try to interest an enfeebled madman calling himself “The Prophet of the Golden Eye” in the truth to be gained through strength at arms. Needless to say, neither of them learned much from the other.

.oOo.

Passing the guarded gates to the expensive-looking and well maintained ‘Garden District’, the adventurers followed the instructions of passers-by to the “Crooked House”, the inn recommended to them by the guardsmen. The building was a strange one to look at, being as it was at a distinct angle, without a single matching door or window. Every facet of the building was indeed crooked, but the outside of the building looked clean and well maintained, and a number of expensive horses could be seen in the place’s stables. The group headed in.

The inside of the inn was well lit, bustling and lively. Many people were standing around a low stage on the opposite side of the room to the bar, where a man was reading third rate poetry whilst another stood to one side nervously fingering a cheap wooden flute. Good natured abuse and encouragement came from the watching audience. Near the staircase leading up on the far side were a number of tables and booths, at which sat a variety of merchants, travellers and businessmen, whilst a massive horned minotaur sat alone in a corner of the room at a table littered with empty plates and drained flagons. Craning his neck, Igmut spotted a gnome behind the bar. He prodded Evan in the shoulder.

“’Ere,” he muttered in an orcish whisper which rattled the horse-brasses hanging from the far wall. “I don’t fancy this place. They let _gnomes_ behind the bar and everything.”

“Pish tush,” replied the bard, reaching into his money pouch and heading for the bar. “Five ales, as many rooms, and meals for my friends and I, my good fellow!”

Within a few minutes, Evan and the innkeeper, Tarquin, were chatting like old friends. The two approached the table where the others were sitting, clutching a number of heavy tankards and several plates of food between them. They slapped them down on the table and Evan sat down, bringing him to eye level with the gnome.

“You going to join the performers later,” asked Tarquin, noting the workmanship of the lute which was hanging from Evan’s pack.

“Of course,” replied the bard. “Although I wish to spend some time with my companions first! What do you lads reckon? It’s been months since we had a good night together!” His mug clattered against Flynne’s and then the others clashed together. 

“More ale, Tarquin, and keep them coming!”

.oOo.

After several drinks, the group had spread around the inn somewhat, and Malachite was engaged in an enthusiastic conversation about whether dwarven brandy was better than gnomish schnapps. This swiftly devolved into a drinking contest, which the rest of the party was more than happy to join in with (although without the 50 gold piece stake). 

A vast quantity of schnapps, brandy, orcish stout and a variety of other liquors were consumed with great enthusiasm, and despite challenges from Flynne, Evan didn’t get to join the performers on the stage, as he was the first to slump drunkenly over the table, before being carried up to his room by a group of other revellers. 

Although Endo and Flynne dropped out of the competition before they totally lost their composure, Igmut didn’t, and was carried up the stairs a few moments later. 

Malachite, druidic fortitude stretched to the very limit, kept on drinking with the minotaur for perhaps another half an hour, before with a bellow of triumph, the horned creature saw Malachite slump down, and gracefully off his chair. The beast swept up the bag of coins on the table, and carried on drinking far into the night.


----------



## Pedestrian

Eccles,

You've switched from first to third person perspective there. Is there a reason for this?

Good story hour by the way. I'm really enjoying the exploits of this merry band.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Moral of this section of the tale - don't get into a drinking contest with a minotaur!

Was tempted to have Igmut memorise a Locate Object spell and track the scroll down. But that seemed unsporting! Hope I don't regret that later in some way.


----------



## Eccles

The next morning, despite an appalling hangover and a mouth which tasted of week-old badger, Evan staggered out of the inn after a light breakfast, accompanied by Igmut and an incredibly large sack of loot. With Igmut to carry the goods and ward off any potential troublemakers, Evan wandered from shop to shop, buying, selling, discussing, weighing up different opportunities, and always profiting from his every deal.

That evening, he met the others back at the inn, and Igmut dumped a colossal sack of gold onto the table. A great deal of hand-rubbing and brainstorming went on, and Endo was generous in offering to create a wide selection of items, as long as he had the spells in his book. 

Now wealthy, the group went their separate ways. Each had their own shopping to do, before Endo sequestered himself in a rented wizard’s laboratory, Malachite explored the forests around the city, Evan left explaining that he “needed to express himself” with his own creative desires, and Igmut and Flynne went looking for entertainment.

.oOo.

Malachite, returning from one of his forays into the trees, felt an instinctive call to explore a series of low buildings within the city. As he looked between what he swiftly realised were a series of cages, he became horrified at the variety of animals and their apparent frustration at being in captivity. 

The druid felt a particular impulse towards one of the cages, and rounding the wall, stopped in amazement. A long striped tail lashed in the chill wind, and Malachite growled in empathy with the caged tiger. Thinking rapidly, Malachite turned and went looking for the owner.

.oOo.

That afternoon, as Evan was leaving the Crooked House after a midday meal with Flynne, he was accosted by the rather breathless druid.

“Evan,” he gasped. “I need your help to get a chimera!”

“What?”

“A chimera! I’ve found a perfect companion beast in what is called a ‘zoo’, and the owner says he’ll give it to me if I can supply him with a chimera – you remember? We saw one in the streets the other day, if I can just find it!”

“Hold on,” interrupted Evan. “Do you have any idea how much a chimera is worth?”

“Worth? It is a beast of the land and the sky. We should merely obtain it…”

“Hang on… Let’s go about this another way.”

Thus it was that Evan, his face warped through the power of the _hat of disguise_ he was wearing, swaggered into the zoo, and demanded to see the owner immediately.

“Greetings,” he blustered, not giving the other man a chance to interrupt. “My name is Gaius, and I am the new Events Manager at the coliseum. I am looking for any wild beasts which might entertain the crowd with displays of ferocity, and understand that you are the man to talk to where big cats are concerned…”

“I do have some tigers,” replied the man.

Evan gracefully folded his arms and stared down a haughty nose at the man until he added “…sir”, and looked away.

“Excellent,” said Evan at last. “Lead the way.” He then strode out of the room, leaving the zookeeper to run to catch up.

As they walked across the zoo, the keeper explained that he had been training the animal in a variety of skills, in just the hope that he might be sold to the entertainments. When they eventually reached the cage which held the tiger Malachite had identified as ‘Sheba’ (but which was clearly labelled as ‘Bitey the Tiger’), the owner began to explain that this was his finest, and that he had trained the animal to leap through a ring of fire.

“Excellent!” Evan smiled down at the keeper. “I should very much like to see that.”

From overhead, in the branches of a tall oak tree, there came the outraged squawk of an indignant small bird, as the keeper ordered a number of his men to get whips and soak a broad wooden ring in pitch. 

Just as the ring was lit, and whip-armed men stepped towards “Bitey’s” cage, Evan stepped in and grabbed the leader by the wrist. 

“Lay one whip on that creature, and any deal is off,” he announced sternly. “Any creature which is injured will not be worth a single copper piece before the crowds. You told me you had trained the beast to leap through fire, not that you could beat it into doing so. Have you any tricks worthy of my time, sir, or should we now turn to the beast’s value?”

The two fell to haggling, whilst the tiger’s eyes flicked from man to man. A price was eventually settled upon, and Evan dropped a purse of gold and platinum into the man’s eager hands.

“My man will collect the creature within 2 hours,” he announced; shading his eyes to look up and nod to the songbird up in the trees.

.oOo.

Malachite was seen later strolling into the inn with the newly renamed ‘Sheba’ at his heels. He flatly ignored Tarquin’s shouts that the beast be let out, and strode up the stairs, taking the tiger to his room.

.oOo.

Over the next couple of weeks, which Endo and Evan spent away from the inn for the greater part of their time, Tarquin became quite fond of the large tiger, which eventually became quite a fixture in the taproom, where it stretched by the fire, and Tarquin would often be seen ‘dropping’ lumps of steak for the animal to devour, purring all the while.

.oOo.

One evening, as Evan returned to the inn, he was interested to see the place in a dishevelled state; many windows broken, and a number of men standing outside, clutching at their heads whilst guardsmen took their details. Two more guards were carrying a stretcher covered with a sheet from the inn away between them.

Subtly shifting his image, he strode into the inn, then allowed his appearance to revert to normal when he realised that all was peaceful, although there were sprays of blood, broken furnishings, and the front door was hanging off its hinges. 

Malachite tapped him on the shoulder, and launched into an explanation of what had occurred.


----------



## Eccles

Malachite's Story (with thanks to his player!)

.oOo.

After two weeks trapped in the crowded stone mass of a city full of people i was longing to be back in the countryside.  Evan and Endo were out searching for more supplies to craft magic items, whilst Igmut, Flynn and I had stayed at the inn.  I was reclining on the pine bed in my room one afternoon, thankful that Sheba and my invisible potato were keeping me sane when there was a commotion from the common room in the inn.  Taking a last look at the intricate pattern of knots in the wood, Sheba and i hurried down the stairs to investigate.  A crowd of about twenty people was grouped around little Tarquin, the Gnomish innkeeper, who lay on the floor with a dagger in his back.  As they saw me some of them pointed and shouted that i had struck him down.  My protests were ignored and although i was soon joined by Igmut and Flynn the mob were becoming angry, egged on by a particularly loud merchant.  

At this point Tarquin moaned and we realised he wasn't dead.  Igmut tried to force his way through the crowd to heal him, but despite my casting a spell to stop any vines clinging to him, he was unable to push through the crowd until Flynn held a notched arrow in the face of one of them, and Igmut pulled himself to his full height.  At last the crowd parted like ripened wheat in an autumn storm and he managed to stabilise our friend.

At this point half a dozen of the city watch arrived.  The mob shouted that they had all seen me strike down Tarquin and to avoid bloodshed i offered to surrender myself into their custody.  I was confident my friends would be able to get to the bottom of the false accusations and equally confident that with the overarching power of nature on my side i could escape from any cell if necessary.  However, the watch insisted that my friends had to be arrested as well, at which news Igmut muttered angrily and looked like a particularly violent spring storm, about to unleash a downpour.  

We decided it was best to go outside with the guards to discuss things further, but as we left, the loud merchant leapt at me and struck with a dagger leaving a long gash down my arm.  Sheba immediately leapt on him and tried to pin him to the ground, and whilst he was helpless Flynn shot arrows at him which were luckily deflected by his sword and Igmut tried to kick him unconscious,  Despite being pinned under a tiger, he managed to slash at Sheba with his sword and managed to inflict two horrific wounds - immediately i called her off, and we both went outside where i used a wand to cure the worst of her injuries.  Out of the corner of my eye i could see more of Flynn's arrows being deflected by the merchant's sword and Igmut smashing powerful blows at the merchant with his fists whilst he leapt from table to table and slashed at Igmut with his sword..  Meantime the crowd were now throwing bottles at Igmut and Flynn, although this had little effect except to stir the guards into action.  They moved forwards with shields raised and threw thunderstones into the crowd which began to subdue them.

Under a continued hail of arrows, the odd sling shot from me and Igmut's continued pounding, the merchant finally dropped off the table and fell to the ground, wounded and finally unconscious.  As he did so his features melted away and we were left staring at a humanoid with a blank face.  The guards and Tarquin realised that this creature was a shape shifter which had tried to frame me and were suitably apologetic, Tarquin even offering free board for a month.  Whilst the guards were apologising to me, Flynn managed to lift a pouch from our foe's belt which we later discovered contained a crooked key.


----------



## Eccles

Having discussed things with Malachite at some length, Evan again changed his features as he strolled outside to talk to one of the injured men, who had been shocked with several thunderstones and was still partially deaf. 

This citizen gave a radically different version of the start of the tale, which saw Malachite’s tiger leaping at a merchant, claws bared; Flynne drawing his bow and threatening a citizen whose only fault was stopping Igmut from approaching the injured Tarquin; Igmut’s huge form repeatedly kicking the knife-armed merchant in the head whilst he was trapped under the tiger, and the ninja/merchant drawing a shortsword, and managing to somehow _parry_ a number of Flynne’s arrows.

That the merchant’s face and body had shrunk and warped into the grey featureless blank of a doppelganger when beaten into unconsciousness was agreed, however, and clearly caused them both no end of concern.

.oOo.

Upon his return to the inn, Evan discussed matters with the others, and they passed the key around between them. The key itself was indeed most crooked, and was topped with a crest depicting a seagoing vessel being dragged beneath the waves by a series of long tentacles. With permission from the others, Evan borrowed it, and wandered out into the town to try to glean some information about what it might mean.

.oOo.

When he came back, he was able to advise the others that the key opened a warehouse towards the docks, which had been used by a little known cult in the past; this was their crest. They then debated where they should go next; opinions were sharply divided between Evan, who declared that they should immediately head to the warehouse and confront the cult, “in case there are any more shapeshifting ninja-assassins hiding in the woodwork ready to spring out and try to kill us” and everyone else, who wanted to go and speak to Eligos, to perhaps learn something about the worm-plague, and maybe even about the cult which was mysteriously trying to kill them.

There was a vote, and the group headed to the Garden District, where they were ushered into a large manor house by an elderly elven butler. The house inside was filled with suits of armour and weaponry on display, which Evan looked at with interest.

Within a few minutes, a middle aged man wearing a breastplate entered, and when the group had explained their difficulty and their need to know about the worm-plague.

“Allustan? It’s been a good few years since I heard his name,” said Eligos in a firm voice. “We once served the same master, and have not seen one another in many years.”

Endo outlined the plague, and the adventurers passed over the notes and prophecies which they had gathered in their adventures, together with the glass vial which held one of the worms in a dark liquid. There were many warnings to Eligos that he not open the flask, but he expressed confidence that he had enough protections, and would hopefully know something within the week.

However, Eligos said he knew nothing about a cult named the ‘Verdigris Manor’ within the city.

The group headed back from Eligos’ mansion towards the warehouse.


----------



## El Jeraldo

...and the plot thickens...dum dum dummmmmmmmm!

-El Jeraldo


----------



## Eccles

The 5 adventurers approached the heavy stone warehouse with some caution, as though the very shadows themselves might suddenly reveal hidden killers. When they reached the building, they looked at it nervously. The structure was squat and covered in a thick layer of moss. Faint signs of rust could be seen running along the large iron doors, and Flynne had finished readying his climbing gear before they registered that there were no windows under the layers of ivy.

Under the moss, just above the doors, was a stone carving which read “Sodden Hold”. 

Disgusted, the elf packed his ropes back into his bag, and then pulled out his tools and scrutinising the door for traps. Once satisfied, he set to work with patience and attention to detail. Having oiled the enormous hinges, he pulled one door slightly open and slipped inside, followed by the others, all of whom were wearing new, or subtly altered equipment. 

Although Flynne looked largely unchanged, Igmut followed through the door resplendent in a new suit of exceptionally shiny armour, made from an extremely rare mithril alloy. His hands were encased in a set of gauntlets which had clearly received some of Endo’s attention, as they resembled skeletal hands crafted out of the same metal. His knuckles were topped with small glittering skulls. Around his waist was a thick leather belt, with a series of spiders webs buckled with a gem encrusted spider. The orc looked somehow heavier and tougher, and yet moved with a lightness which was slightly unnerving to those looking at his massive 400 pound frame.

Malachite (followed by the lithe form of Sheba) had clearly invested a large sum of money in upgrading some of his existing items, although he had arranged to have the work done by a less sinister wizard, whilst Endo who entered behind him had obviously had no such reservations. He wore a shiny diadem around his head, with a pattern of spiders etched into the metal, whilst he carried himself with an air of confidence and power.

Evan followed them into the room; beyond changing his adventuring outfit for a similar costume made to a better cut and with finer material, the only changes to his equipment were a few lines of colourful stitching, and a pair of half-moon spectacles resting on his nose which he raised to squint through as he stepped into the room.

.oOo.

The open room within was caked in dust, and cluttered with aging casks, barrels and crates. Despite the dust, the room was partially lit by torches dotted around the walls. On the left side were a pair of doors, and overhead a long catwalk spanned the room. 

Shuddering, Malachite transformed into a large ape, almost the spitting image of the departed Clive. He leapt onto a crate, and climbed from there onto the catwalk, prowling along it into a small room at one end. He pulled back from the room and gestured to indicate nothing being there.

On the floor below, the others moved towards the two doors, and watched as Flynne again carefully inspected them in turn. Before he went for his tools, he looked around. Seeing another door on the other side of the room, under the far side of the catwalk, he approached it, and placed his ear to listen at it.

As he touched the door, there was an ominous click, and then a horrible clanking noise from the ground at his feet. He flexed his knees, and leapt high into the air as a ten foot square of the ground immediately in front of the door fell away to reveal a 40 foot drop into a pit lined with spikes. Flynne, however, arced gracefully above the drop; his arms outstretched, he pinwheeled in the air and landed on the very edge of the pit; his toes hanging over the drop as gravel and dust dropped down beneath him.

.oOo.

A while later, balanced precariously on a plank of wood suspended between two crates, Flynne listened again at the door. It was silent. He teased the lock open with his picks and pushed. The door didn’t move, and Flynne punched it in frustration – the door resounded not with the hollow sound of an empty room beyond a wooden surface, but the flat smack of hand on plaster – the whole door was an elaborate trap.

Cautiously, the two remaining doors were opened, revealing nothing of interest in either of them save a ladder up to the catwalk, and a series of ledgers detailing a fish canning business which had gone bust some ten years earlier.

The room was searched, chests and barrels inspected, and the frustrated group were running out of ideas before Flynne called out to them from the blank wall at the far end of the catwalk, above the false door. He had found a concealed entrance in the wall, and after a careful few minutes work the door sprang open. The group readied their weapons, and entered.

.oOo.

Behind the door was a staircase leading down into a chamber with three unlocked chests inside it. These were swiftly looted, yielding up a cloak, a flask of liquid, a small bag filled quite implausibly deeply with several hundred coins, and a familiar looking harp-crested dagger and ring.

Flynne, standing by the chests, passed these last two around the group, but only Evan had any suggestion about where the items might have come from – he suggested that he might have seen a similar weapon amongst the arms and armour at Eligos’ manor house that morning. 

Although nobody was certain whether this was right or not, and Evan himself was unsure in this idea, they decided not to dwell on their finds, and turned to the door in one wall of this room, which was swiftly unlocked and opened by Flynne. The door opened into an unpleasant, cage-lined wall which smelled of straw, sweat and misery.

Within the room were 5 cells, several of which contained live captives. One was an elven female, whilst in the cell next to her wailed a corpse-like human, barely clinging to both life and sanity. 

Igmut, clearly appalled by so many people being deprived of their freedom, demanded that Flynne unlock the cages - which he did. The human was healed by Igmut’s magics, but simply grinned up at the huge orc and dribbled. Clearly, whatever had happened to him had deprived him of more than simply his health, but had also destroyed much of his mind.

The elf-woman was freed next, and she thanked Flynne briefly for unlocking her cell, before demanding that the group escort her to safety. Before doing this, however, they unlocked the third cell with anyone in it – this one containing two tired looking young human men.

To Flynne’s horror as he finished picking the heavy cell door’s lock, the two men rewarded him by reaching under the straw mattress. They pulled out swords and shields and charged at him, displaying dexterity and skill equal to the merchant in the inn. They both darted forwards to swing at him, before stepping backwards to a safe distance back in their cell. 

Acting as though rehearsed, Igmut stepped up to the door and readied his heavy greatsword, whilst Endo cursed one of the two fake captives with a strength draining spell. For his part, Flynne simply slammed the door shut and locked it, grinning broadly at the two men within.

Now that they were safely contained, Malachite cast a spell which caused a cloud to materialise within the cell. A bold of lightning blasted down from it, shocking one of the two men amidst a crashing noise and a stench of ozone. 

One of the captives, grinning contentedly, pulled a key from a pouch concealed at his belt, and unlocked the door. His stepped through, straight into Igmut’s sword swing which gashed him deeply down his sword arm. 

Arrows, lightning, tiger claws and greatsword made short work of this attacker, and as he fell to the ground, his facial features blurred and contorted before subsiding into the faceless, smooth grey surface of a doppelganger. 

Behind the others, Evan loaded his crossbow, spun on the spot, and pointed it directly into the face of the haughty elf woman, shouting “don’t you even twitch!” She didn’t.

The remaining aggressor was soon brought down. First he was cursed with Endo’s _Weeping Wounds_ spell, making every slight damage all the worse through the tiny spirits which cackled and tore at them. He was then shot by Flynne before being savaged to death by a charging tiger. He also slumped to the floor, reverting as he did so to a blank faceless form.

.oOo.

The group spoke briefly to the elf woman, who said that she had been abducted perhaps a month ago, and demanded to be returned to her family. 

The group were unwilling to leave the complex unexplored, and agreed that Evan should lead her out of the warehouse, whilst they stayed put, guarding the rooms to ensure that nothing could pass them. They agreed on a password, and Evan led her off to a nearby inn which they had seen, which they decided would be respectable enough for her to wait in safely.

Upon his return a while later, they readied weapons and spells, and moved towards the door at the back of the prison room…


----------



## HandofMystra

Eccles said:
			
		

> Igmut tried to force his way through the crowd to heal him, but despite my casting a spell to stop any vines clinging to him,



Why were there vines clinging to Igmut?


----------



## Eccles

HandofMystra said:
			
		

> Why were there vines clinging to Igmut?




Malachite's a druid. To my recollection it was a Freedom of Movement spell to help him get through the crowd before all 20 people tried to grapple him.

I accept, at that precise moment there were no actual vines clinging to Igmut...


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Eccles said:
			
		

> Malachite's a druid. To my recollection it was a Freedom of Movement spell to help him get through the crowd before all 20 people tried to grapple him.
> 
> I accept, at that precise moment there were no actual vines clinging to Igmut...




Quite correct!


Thanks for writing things up there Mr Eccles - that was one mammoth update! 

Do like that you caught all the new gear there! Nice going. Light on the feet has to be done - enough stomping already.


There's quite a few little things concerning me in game currently:

1)Just who did that dagger and ring belong to?
2)Is Igmuts missing scroll a simple pickpocketing, or something more sinister...
3)Why did the cult target us? Who's ordering them about.
4)Tentacles + cultists = Very Bad News. Although that may just be too many years of playing Cthulu.
5)In the case of running into a humanoid with a squid head, who's got the slowest movement speed (or the tastiest looking brain).


----------



## Tamlyn

Eccles said:
			
		

> Malachite's Story (with thanks to his player!)
> 
> ... thankful that Sheba and my invisible potato were keeping me sane...




Invisible potato?  :\


----------



## Darmanicus

God said:
			
		

> Endo SOOO needs to learn Rope Trick (ie, the 11th Commandment: And thy Magic User shall scribe spells of climbing ropes into unseen pockets, lest small, yipping scaly-things gnaw at thy flesh whilst thy lay abed in stony chambers).
> 
> And no more killing of cool PCs. Morrus I command thee.




I've tried to stay away from Rope Trick just because it's too easy a spell to abuse however much I've whined about getting some rest.


----------



## Dpulse303

Good write up Nic.


----------



## Eccles

Tamlyn said:
			
		

> Invisible potato?  :\




That one I can't help you with. Sorry!

(Although I suspect it has something to do with a knot in the wood he was staring at in the Inn)


----------



## Eccles

Loup Du Noir said:
			
		

> You've switched from first to third person perspective there. Is there a reason for this?




You're quite right!

I would've flagged this up when you posted it, but it might have given something away. The next post is therefore dedicated in your honour. (And it's freakin' HUGE!)


----------



## Eccles

Standing at the heavy iron double doors, a number of preparations were made. Endo cast spells of fire and sharpness on a selection of arrows and crossbow bolts before further enchanting Igmut’s greatsword. 

Whilst Malachite locked the insane captive in one of the cells ‘for safekeeping’, Flynne ran his hands over the cold metal of the doors before pronouncing them unlocked and safe. Preparations complete, he pushed them wide open.

.oOo.

Blindfolded, I was bundled into yet another room, stumbling barefoot on the smooth stony surface. Strong thin hands shoved me roughly to the floor against a marble-flat wall, and heavy clasps were snapped around my wrists.

My blindfold was torn off and I stared, blinking desperately, around myself. The eerie featureless grey face of one of my captors moved to one side, clearly satisfied that I was chained solidly to one of the mirror-like walls of this octagonal room. 

My eyes ached in the constant pale blue light from several strange glowing rocks near the top of the high walls. The crazy reflections meant that light shone into my eyes whichever way I looked. 

Hearing a second metallic clinking noise, I looked to my right, seeing to my horror the familiar looking sight of Endo. Plainly unconscious, he was also chained to the wall and slumped to one side. Beyond him sat Flynne, glaring about himself in fury.

On my other side was Malachite, a bag only now being pulled off his head by another of the sinister grey captors, whilst the unconscious and armourless form of Igmut was still being carried into the room by three more of the alien forms. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” I got no further, before the figure who had just removed my blindfold stepped forwards once again and slammed my head against the wall. My world went black. 

.oOo.

Flynne’s push opened the door revealing a large ruined chamber. Stagnant water could be seen through massive gaps in the crooked and rotting timbers. Narrow walkways were formed from these slippery timbers, which ran crookedly over the stinking water. Protruding from the water itself were dozens of rusting spearheads; the water beneath was positively littered with a huge number of weapons; many corroded, others glittering and fairly new, but all clearly sharp and dangerous.

Gingerly, Malachite lowered himself into the water between several of the rusty blades before concentrating and twisting his body into that of a shark. Flynne moved to one side of the room and leapt, gracefully flying through the air to land on a small section of intact floor. Another chunk of timbering was intact in the corner of the room; perhaps 15 feet over the water from where Flynne now was standing, but he had no run up and doubted his ability to jump that far. Gingerly, he started to walk along the planks. 

Behind him, Igmut chanted a short prayer to his God, then stood upright. He walked to the end of the area of floor near the entrance. He then simply stepped off the floor; yet his feet remained firm upon the air as if standing on solid ground. Strong in his faith in Kord, he stepped fearlessly into the room and looked around. Some 80 feet long, the room was shaped like a squat ‘L’, and just around the corner was a third corner of reasonably solid wooden flooring. On one side, the inner edge of the ‘L’, there was a single door.

The half-orc strolled back to where Evan and Endo still stood, then bodily picked up Evan, walking through the air to put him down by the door, before heading back to pick up Endo.

Behind him, Evan flinched as he felt something move in the air behind him. He turned around, but was immediately slammed in the stomach by an immensely powerful blow from an unseen enemy. 

Igmut, carrying Endo, dashed through the air towards Evan before drawing his greatsword. Evan also drew his rapier and flailed it through the air at his invisible enemy, but didn’t make any contact with it.

Across the room, Flynne dashed nimbly across the slimy planks onto the larger space of flooring, but the instant he set foot onto the more solid ground, he felt a second powerful invisible creature grab him by the tunic and drag him forwards, slamming him against the wall. 

40 feet away, Evan continued to sweep his thin blade through the air, utterly unsure where his foe was standing. As he was swinging wildly around him, he continued to step gently backwards, edging towards the planks behind him. 

Malachite, still in shark form, snapped and twitched as he summoned another partly visible form into the room – a 7 foot tall air elemental whirled into being near Flynne, and immediately a slamming noise could be heard as it made contact with the creature which was trying to break Flynne’s neck.

Malachite then swam forwards, trying to make some headway through the dirty and weapon-filled water, but blades tore savagely at his underside, and he came up short bleeding. Surrounded by weapons and with blood in the water from two deep gashes in his belly, the shark looked around himself trying to see a way out.

.oOo.

My captors were gone, and we had been chained to the walls for what seemed like an eternity. My friends and I were ill-tempered in captivity and grumpy due to lack of sleep. All of us were out-of-sorts and acting against our better natures, snapping and sniping at one another. Deprived of bags of spell components and symbols of power, none of us could practice any magic to alleviate our situations. 

The mirrored walls flashed reflections of us and the many bright blue lights above us. The constant light penetrated our eyelids when we tried to get some rest, meaning that any sleep we could get was fitful and short. Tempers frayed and we ceased talking to one another.

.oOo.

Endo yelled out “Invisible Stalkers! Don’t try to make them visible, as it won’t work!”

He then delved into his bag and pulled out a flask with a distinctive fire emblem and some markings on it in gnomish. As he pondered throwing it into the melee where Evan and Igmut were flailing towards where they hoped their enemy might be, the half orc yelled “No!” at him. He changed his mind, and tossed a tanglefoot bag instead. Briefly, the glue splattered on and around something invisible, and the sticky strands hung in the air in front of the combatants, before fading from sight and frustrating the two sword-wielding men.

Looking through the fast-fading foeman, Igmut could see that Evan had been taking the brunt of the invisible stalker’s assault. He was bleeding from several places, a steady trail of blood pouring down one side of his face just above a massive bruise which was already making his right eyelid swell closed. Evan was also favouring his unarmed side, and was moving as though he had a number of cracked ribs. 

Igmut therefore stepped away from the fight, swinging his shield into place to deflect a pounding blow as he did so. He walked through the air and around the conflict, casting a spell of healing which made many of Evan’s wounds knit closed, the swelling reduce, and he stood taller as though the ribs were no longer bothering him as much.

Within an instant, however, Evan’s neck snapped back and then he leaned suddenly forwards as he was slammed in the face and stomach. Extremely badly hurt, he lashed out weakly with his rapier, but he once again missed – thwarted either by his aim, or his invisible enemy simply not being anywhere near where he was thrusting. 

On the other side of the room, Flynne was also duelling with his foe, but was dicking and diving with more success, and his natural tenacity was showing – any blows which did land on him simply weren’t as telling as those which smashed down onto Evan’s frame.

Lightning crashed down out of the sky in front of Evan’s nose, but there was no sign of anything having been injured in the blast. At this point, Sheba leapt delicately off the series of winding planks, pawing and sniffing at the ground near the scorched marks near Evan’s feet. 

10 feet away, Endo shifted his seldom-used staff to grip it at on end. He held the staff uncomfortably in front of himself, and swung it in a huge wide arc at chest height in front of him. The staff touched nothing, and he looked crestfallen.

Between the lightning and Endo’s staff-work, Igmut surmised that the creature must have been backed into one corner, and so he leapt forwards and swung his greatsword, but his weapon swept through the air without touching anything at all.

On the far wall, Flynne and the air elemental continued to lash out at the unseen foe, with no success. Flynne ducked and weaved at the unseen enemy, and the rogue emerged unscathed, despite hearing the whistling of unseen blows passing close to his head.

.oOo.

I was convinced that I had been in the bright, mirror-walled, octagonal chamber for several days. My comrades and I had had a few fitful conversations, and I was increasingly concerned by Flynne’s behaviour. Occasionally he would seem almost cheerful and when I asked him he was prepared to volunteer information about his time as a young boy before he was brought to Diamond Lake. Flynne had never talked about this time before and was always reluctant, almost angry, when asked to talk about it. 

Hours later, the others appeared to have fallen asleep. I was unable to rest; a splitting headache no doubt caused by the bright lights and lack of rest, and therefore was sitting, leaning against my chains and the wall, when I saw the door open by a matter of inches. 

A familiar elven head poked into the room – Flynne. My neck cricked as I turned to stare at the mirror-image lying in chains next to me, and when I turned back to the door then the elf standing hunched down raised one finger to his lips, grinning in a familiar way. 

Moving almost soundlessly, he crept into the room and bent to look at the chains at my wrists. There were a few subtle metallic noises, before he whispered into my ear.

“I can’t quite get it. I need your help.”

Unable to move, I helped him the only way I knew how. Barely above a whisper, I began to chant a song designed to help him focus and concentrate. 

“Almost there…” Flynne was still working on the lock behind me.

Suddenly the door on the far side of the room crashed open. Perhaps a dozen doppelgangers dashed into the room. They surrounded Flynne and wrestled him to the floor. He struggled, shouting and screaming at the top of his lungs, waking the others who were chained to the wall alongside me. 

Endo, Igmut and Malachite all looked utterly confused, whilst the chained up ‘Flynne’ merely smiled grimly. His face warped and twisted before fading to a grey nothing. Other doppelgangers unchained this perversion from the wall and snapped his chains around my captured friend’s wrists. Clever grey fingers picked his belongings from him, and they turned. 

The door crashed behind them as they left. Flynne and I swore viciously.

.oOo.

Facing another onslaught, and heavily injured, Evan took another step backwards, and felt his heel come down onto one of the slippery wooden planks. With no choice, and confident that he wouldn’t survive more attacks from the invisible stalker, he stepped back properly onto the planks.

With the first pace, however, he realised that there was something wrong. His ankle trembled under him, and he felt his foot slide very slightly as the plank creaked under his weight. He compensated, stabbing down with his raised left foot – this only caused his body to lurch to the right. 

Wobbling, his arms stretched wide and the rapier went flying into the water as he tried desperately to keep his balance. Suddenly, however, his right foot slipped, and he fell forwards. There was a sickening crunch as his face slammed into the plank and his nose was broken. Specks of the slime from the plank could be seen on his surprised face as it bounced back off the wooden walkway, and he then fell sideways into the water. There was a mighty splash, and blood surged from his leg as a rusting sword-blade plunged through his thigh. When the water subsided, his comrades could see a spear-point protruding from the centre of his chest. With his face immersed in water, he gasped his last.

Malachite, still in shark form, could sense the salty tang in the water start to shift as Evan grew still. Endo and Igmut, who were closest, were aghast to see Evan’s face darken, and then fade to nothing. The doppelganger who was ‘Evan’ was dead.

.oOo.

Resting my aching head against the cool mirrored wall, I closed my eyes. The bright blue light pierced my eyelids, suffusing my vision with an unpleasant light. I thought back to how I had come to be in this dreadful place, stripped of my equipment and chained to the wall. 

I had been in the bright lights of the city, surrounded by delighted children and happy adults. There had been a carnival, or a procession, only something had gone wrong. One of the creatures… a _chimera_, I think… had broken free, and my fellow captives and I had fought with it. I had used song and magic, but then my limbs had refused to obey me. I could no longer even open my mouth to cry for help.

Then I felt strong hands lifting me, and I was carried bodily back into a nearby alleyway. There was a sensation of movement, and I briefly saw what I thought was Igmut and Endo being carried as well, before a blindfold was tied around my head.

When at last the magic which had been restraining me wore off, I struggled, but was swiftly and crudely beaten unconscious.

Now I was here, in this dreadful room, together with my friends. Were they still my friends? I simply couldn’t remember. 

.oOo.

Stepping into the gap left by ‘Evan’s death, Sheba moved gracefully forwards, sniffing at the air before snapping and slashing at the seemingly empty air in front of her. Something pattered invisibly down into the dust. 

Taking their cues from Sheba’s actions, the others moved into place. More lightning slammed down from the roof of the building into the corner, whilst Igmut swung in impotent fury repeatedly in the air. 

Flynne and the elemental continued their delicate bladed ballet in the other corner of the room, whilst Endo became the target for the invisible stalker which had so recently dispatched ‘Evan’. He received two pounding blows to his chest, stripping away the protection of one of his spells of health and vitality. Stepping back, he cast a spell which caused a shimmering disc to spring into existence between where himself and where he perceived the attacks to have come from.

Clutching the rod of spell-quickening, he also cast a spell to enfeeble the creature assaulting him. However, the green ray of the spell crashed, scorching, into the wall opposite. The spell faded, but the wall was immediately the recipient of two more of Igmut’s blows – his foe’s invisibility causing him immense difficulties.

.oOo.

Over a couple of days, my fellow captives were variously taken out of the room in ones or twos, as was I. I saw the creatures changing shape, and I felt them within my mind, scraping ever deeper to find my secrets. 

At one stage I was dragged from my chains to a small room where 5 figures turned to look at me. Every single one of them was Malachite. Every single one of them was laughing at me. I was dragged back from the room once again.

I did what I could. I watched their mannerisms, and scrutinised how they spoke, but every time I became confident that one of them wasn’t the real thing, something would change. On one such occasion, I tried to convince Flynne, who I had seen being captured, of our plight. He and I talked for many hours, but I fell asleep. Hours later, I woke to see his chains empty. 

.oOo.

Flynne and Endo were battered by the persistent assault, despite their best efforts. At Endo’s side, Sheba continued her assault; her keen scent of smell not deceived by the creature’s invisibility. As she paused in her assault, lightning crashed down once again, wreathing the invisible creature in more energies. Shielding his eyes, Igmut took advantage of the light to catch the stalker with one of his powerful sword-strikes, although a second swing passed through the same spot he had caught the attacker in an instant earlier. 

In an effort to help the fight, Endo began to move his hands and chant to cast a spell. Teetering on the edge of the platform, he was unable to step away from the stalker, and was caught out mid-spell. Receiving a solid smash to the face, he lost not only a tooth, but also his concentration on the spell which he had been casting. 

Seeing his comrade’s struggles, Igmut once again stepped out onto the air around the platform, and moved to behind Endo – he touched the mage on the shoulder and imparted a large dose of healing energies into him, knitting up his wounds considerably. 

.oOo.

After another period in a room surrounded by the impassive ‘faces’ of four doppelgangers all scrutinising my thoughts, I was dragged into small bedroom. Tools and equipment were brought to me, and a lurching apparently mind controlled Igmut demanded, impassively, that I craft something that the doppelgangers had seen in my mind.

The instant that I refused, he produced a dagger from somewhere at his belt, raised it to his head and sliced downwards.

There was a gout of crimson, and something slapped down to the floor by my feet. Still without flinching, Igmut turned and immediately shambled out of the room.

I could still hear movement from near the door, but I looked down. A single ear lay on the floor by my right foot. Clearly half-orc by size, shape and colour. Somehow, these creatures had made Igmut hack off his own right ear.

An impassive doppelganger face looked down at me.

“Craft the glasses. Make the cape. Or your friends will lose more than an ear.”

I lowered my head, ignoring the ruined mess on the floor, and began to select items I might be able to use to create something which I had been considering for many weeks.

.oOo.

Flynne was struck once again, and his opponent then tried to push him off the platform into the lethal weapon-packed water beneath. Flynne’s swift reactions served him well, however, as he was able to use his opponent’s weight against him and resist the push.

Near the door, however, Sheba continued her determined assault on the invisible foe, and with a swipe of her claws, there was a patter of invisible liquid followed by the ‘thump’ of an invisible body falling to the floor. Everybody’s attention turned to the far corner, where Flynne was duelling against his own invisible enemy.

Malachite’s first action was to summon a pair of large hippogriffs into what was rapidly becoming a smaller and smaller room. One landed next to Flynne, whilst the other swooped and clawed, unable to find anywhere to land. Both lashed out at the invisible stalker with long talons, and still more lightning, invoked earlier to Malachite, crashed down and around the remaining stalker. 

Endo’s rapidly triggered wand flew through the centre of the melee, past where the stalker had been a second previously. Igmut dashed through the air towards the fight, but his sword swing once again was thwarted by his target’s invisibility. More gashes from Malachite’s hippogriffs, before another flash of lightning illuminated the skeleton of the surviving creature, which slumped to the floor.

Having pulled ‘Evan’s body out of the deadly water, the group pulled their friend’s equipment off the doppelganger’s corpse. Spitting on the body, they moved to the door, and opened it. 

.oOo.

The door was pushed open, and a figure entered. Endo, carrying a tray of food. He lurched towards me, and the glassy expression on his face suggested to me that he was being controlled by some other intellect. He bent near me, and deposited the tray of food. As he did so, I looked to my right. A second ‘copy’ of Endo, identical in every way to the one with the food, who stood stiffly and strode out of the room was chained to the wall, next to Igmut with his ruined ear.

.oOo.

In the small room there were two holes in the floor; one deliberate and with a ladder on one side, and the other a shallow crater. At the bottom of the much deeper pit the four survivors of the battle with the invisible stalker could see a barrel bobbing on water. Malachite smiled grimly, remembering the fight in the lizardman lair as he cast a spell of water breathing.

“Wheee!” Igmut immediately leapt into the pit, curling up into a ball and sending up a huge plume of water before his full plate armour sank him straight to the bottom. Flynne and the others followed him, a little more carefully by climbing down the ladder before jumping the last couple of feet into the water next to the floating barrel. They all swam downwards to join Igmut, who was gesturing wildly from the bottom of the shaft. (It took Endo a good while to swim downwards, as his robes and heavily wrapped spellbook dragged considerably, meaning that he was nearly exhausted by the time he finally reached the bottom.

Once there, Endo saw what Igmut had been pointing at – there was a flooded tunnel which he and the others followed. After perhaps 70 feet, the tunnel opened up into a large flooded chamber perhaps 60 feet on each side with a large carved pillar in the centre. As they gathered their wits and looked around their surroundings, something behind the pillar twitched. A long sinuous tentacle gentle moved around in the water, as though testing for something. Gently, the entire form of a 20 foot long octopus slid out into view and lunged towards them.

Endo (unable to verbalise any spells underwater) and Flynne reacted by firing at the beast, and boiling hot crossbow bolt and arrow sped through the water, bubbling all the while. Both missiles fell short; the pull of the water draining them of any strength long before they could reach their target.

Igmut pulled out his spear and plunged towards the creature, but was immediately grabbed and tightly wrapped in a tentacle as he moved forwards. He dropped the spear, pulled a dagger from his belt and began sawing at the long tentacle wrapped around his chest. 

Almost immediately, Sheba swam forwards and leapt on the beast, trying to wrestle with the huge form of the octopus. It wrapped around her as well and then began to wrench and pull at its two captives.

.oOo.

I did what I could. Deprived of all but those spells which I needed to work the crafting which the doppelgangers forced me to carry out, I could not use magic, so I used guile. When I was sure that I was in the company of a doppelganger, I would try what I could to turn them against one another. I did what I could to persuade them on occasion that I was one of them, but to no avail. 

Songs of suggestion worked on one occasion, but the creatures swiftly learned to keep me silent when they found the guard who they had left to watch me crafting wandering the corridor. My running feet took me no further than a large chamber with a drop over a deep pool of water. I saw something massive moving in the water before many doppelgangers grabbed me and dragged me back to the mirrored cell.

.oOo.

Igmut and Sheba both managed to tear themselves free of the tentacled grasp of the huge octopus, and both hacked into the creature before it grabbed at them once again; a series of tentacles thrashing through the water all around them before Endo raised his crossbow and sighted. He fired, and a heated bubbling crossbow bolt sank into the creature just below the eye. It thrashed once more, and then was still. 

That moment, three sharks materialised in the water and dove into the twitching corpse. Malachite could be seen to one side of the chamber looking deeply frustrated at his timing. He then helped drag Igmut up to the surface, where he was able to clamber onto the air, and stood there unsupported save through Kord’s power. He climbed up through the air, whilst Flynne scrambled up the side of the pillar.

Reaching the top at the same time, they looked around. The top of the pillar was empty save for a rusting red metal lever, whilst some 20 feet from them there was a ledge. They scrutinised the lever, then looked at one another and shrugged. Flynne gripped the handle and pulled…

There was a grinding, gurgling noise and the water drained out of the room, reducing it to a depth of five feet. The ledge also slid haltingly towards the pillar, revealing a door at its far side. The group crossed to the ledge, and Flynne listened at, and examined the doorway before pulling it open. 

.oOo.

I was dragged from sleeping regularly, taken down the corridor past staring ever-changing faces to spend hours crafting magical equipment of my own invention before being returned to the torment of the brightly lit cell. 

Once, as I was being returned to my cell I was dragged into a small room which contained 2 cot beds. The doppelganger who had been dragging me shifted his grip subtly, and I turned to see that he had assumed the form of Malachite.

The bed-covers twitched, and two more Malachites rose up from beneath them, laughing at my torment.

I had become the plaything of monsters, barely confident who I was even sharing a cell with. Surely these twisted creatures wouldn’t imprison their own for so long? And what were they keeping me _for_?

.oOo.

Entering the narrow corridor, the group looked around. Endo announced that the complex had “clearly been constructed by the lich Azeroth, where he’d lure travellers and explorers to their deaths before feeding them to his pet space hamster.” The others ignored this unlikely pronouncement and then looked up and down. There were four single doors on the long wall opposite them, and each end of the long corridor was ended with a heavy set of double doors. 

They moved up, Flynne carried out his usual series of checks on the closest door and then they pushed it open. 2 figures turned rapidly to face them – one was a doppelganger lying on one of the two cot beds in the very cramped room. The other wore the face of a merchant trader, but she snarled ferally at them and leapt towards Flynne, snarling. Igmut’s spear thrust into the chest of the ‘trader’, before Flynne pulled back his heavy magical bow. His first arrow sliced into the chest of the injured figure which immediately fell, transforming as it did so into yet another grey-faced doppelganger.

Flynne fired again, and his second arrow took the still-sleepy second doppelganger in the throat. A series of icy blood drops spilled onto the covers, and the doppelganger slumped back onto the cot.

They checked the room for anything of interest, then moved to the next of the four small doors. This was also cleared, and this door was also pushed wide, with weapons at the ready as they did so.

.oOo.

The door banged open, waking me from slumber. Two gray-faced doppelgangers ran into the mirrored cell and snatched Flynne out of his chains. Minutes later, he was returned. Or something looking like him was returned. Once again, I turned to trying to work out who, or what, I was chained next to.

.oOo.

An identical room, with two slightly more awake doppelgangers inside it. Flynne’s arrow feathers were almost immediately seen protruding by a few inches from the chest of one as it keeled over backwards. Igmut strode into the room with his greatsword, slashing at the second figure and slaying it.

Realising that this was clearly a series of dormitories, they kicked open a third door and slaughtered another pair of ill-prepared doppelgangers were slaughtered. This time, in the post-battle room search, Flynne looked up.

“Odd,” he announced, pointing at one of the walls. “There’s a small draft coming from behind this panel.”

He pushed at the offending wall, and to his surprise his arm sank to the elbow through the plaster. He pulled it out, inspected it, and then strode through what he swiftly realised was an illusion. 

Followed by the others, they found themselves in a 10 foot room with an iron door. A pale blue light glittered around the edges of that door, which Flynne was swift in unlocking and pushing gently open.

.oOo.

Once again the door to my cell was opened, and once again the doppelgangers had returned to torment me. They had mockingly taken the shape of my comrades, wearing fire finer equipment and better weapons than I had ever seen them carry.

“You bastards,” I yelled. I had been pushed beyond any reasonable limit by the creatures treating me like some sort of plaything, and here they were again.

The fake Flynne at the door raised a heavy recurve bow towards his mirror on the floor near me, whilst the doppelganger version of Endo was plainly pretending to consider which spell would be the best with which to slaughter the group of us on the floor. Then I saw Malachite stride into the room, followed by a very large tiger. 

I had never seen him with such a big beast, and my first conclusion was that it was obviously yet another doppelganger, displaying another skill I had not seen from them before. And yet… there was something in the way he carried himself, and in the way he stroked the tiger’s head. 

Looking to the ‘Malachite’ who was chained to the wall by my side, I could see that his mouth was wide open, aghast. 

I was nearly sure who to believe this time, when the Malachite by the door spoke.

“I know! Evan. If you are who you seem to be, help me… um… juggle these balls. I can never normally do that, so with your assistance it should certainly help me!”

“Never,” I replied. I was now sure once again that these new arrivals were merely more doppelgangers, seeking once again to gain amusement. They wanted me to sing them a song to help them _juggle_?

However, I was curious. I had to prove myself to them, and them to me. I then began to sing another piece, one which I had written myself months previously. Morgan Sevestarian’s eulogy. I sang with clarity and such complex technique that only a truly expert performer might be able to accomplish.

Endo’s jaw dropped, and I saw him reach for his dead brother’s spellbook and flick to the pages at the back where the eulogy was written. He spoke up in confirmation, satisfying both himself and me at his being the real one. At the same instant, the manacled Endo spoke up over his mirror at the door. 

“They’re both in it together. Don’t believe them!”

I was still singing, but to my horror saw the Igmut by the door (who still had both of his ears and was therefore plainly a fake) stride across the mirror room and begin to lash out at his clone with shining manacled fists. 

I immediately changed my song to something more insistant. My melody scythed through the room, gaining instant attention as I focussed it on the aggressive and armour clad Igmut standing over his double. I chanted words of peace on him, and was pleased to see him step back from beating the one-eared half orc in chains by my side. I moved my focus on from person to person, trying to calm each of the people by the door away from violence. 

This accomplished, I asked the Flynne at the door to unchain me. He took a couple of steps towards me, but was almost immediately restrained by the others by the door. They put their heads together, and with a rising heart I could hear them discussing ‘doppelgangers’ and who might be the real versions. Malachite suggested a series of tests, pointing out a small scratch on one wall and asking Flynne to shoot it. 

In one smooth move, the bow-armed figure by the door raised his bow and fired, striking the mark head on. He then drew a second arrow and pointed it at the throat of the second Flynne next to me. His arm quivered, before he relaxed under the strength of my song of peace. 

My song was not, however, strong enough to stop Endo, who raised a crossbow and fired a flaming bolt at his double.

.oOo.

To my horror, the bolt struck home, and the chained Endo grimaced. Then his face faded to grey, and he and the other figures chained on either side of me leapt to their feet, entirely unhindered by any of the manacles they had been pretending to wear. All four of them reverted to their natural grey bodies and leapt towards me, clearly intent on depriving those at the door of my future existence.

.oOo.

From the door, the figure of Endo cast a spell, instantly confirming for me that he was no doppelganger, who had been using me to craft magical items for them. His spell struck all four of the grey-faced doppelgangers around me, dazing and confusing them. 

The massive tiger leapt savagely into the midst of the four, slaying one in a flurry of teeth and claws. Behind the beast, Flynne plied his trade, sinking yard-long arrows to the fletchings into two doppelgangers, which collapsed immediately. Igmut stepped forwards and somehow upwards, standing on thin air in front of me, from where he swung his sword straight over the surviving doppelganger’s head. 

Malachite swung his scimitar, striking the survivor, before his tiger-companion tore it into ribbons. 

.oOo.

It was over. I was free, and once again amongst my friends. Somehow, they had managed to bring all of my equipment with them (although much of it was soaking wet and spattered with blood). They had even managed to capture the items which I had been crafting whilst in captivity, which I also claimed and fasted to myself.

Grimly, I tightened the straps of my armour and checked that the rapier was sharp enough.

“Right. Let’s get these ********.”


----------



## stonegod

Heh, heh. I suspected as much the moment I noticed the change. Bad, naughty body switchers.


----------



## El Jeraldo

Wow what a slugfest. It must have been an amazing role-playing situation. Those doppelgangers were pretty brutal but they can’t be all bad after all, the one pretending to be Evan helped Malachite get his kitty cat after all.

That viewpoint change killed me for a while as I was trying to figure out whom in the world Evan was. You never use you characters name in first person so I had completely forgotten what it was.

Anyway, awesome story. In fact, far superior to any thing that I’ve read recently. (And note that I was paying for those other things, this stuff is all FREE of charge)

-El Jeraldo

One more question. What levels is the party at now?


----------



## Eccles

We're all 8th, verging on 9th level. We're deeply concerned by what Endo might start flinging around soon - he's got some enervation spells hidden up his sleeve at the moment which are causing several of us conniptions!

(Mind you, he's not created the walking death in ages, which is a plus point!)

And the death of doppel-Evan was perhaps the stupidest thing ever. Failed a balance check Evan would've passed, backing away from a combat Evan wouldn't have needed to because he has a few more hitpoints. In his own base, fleeing from his own monsters, falling onto his own rusty weapons of death (and that stuff was nasty! We're seriously considering getting a portable hole and filling it with the things to bull rush enemies into). Whoops! Slam! Crunch! Gurgle...


----------



## Diplomat123

Really liked your write up of what Evan has been up to for the last two and a half weeks.  Presumably you will need some sort of counselling to get over all the psychological torture you have had to endure...


----------



## Tamlyn

Very well done indeed! Did you play "Evan" while he was doubled? If so, did the other players know you were doubled?


----------



## Morrus

Tamlyn said:
			
		

> Very well done indeed! Did you play "Evan" while he was doubled? If so, did the other players know you were doubled?




Yep, he played the double.  Very well - he had to use the double's stats, not his own, whihc meant he had to cleverly avoid getting into situations where his lack of ability in some areas would give him away.  For example, in the pub, he chose to get completely drunk and pass out to avoid being talked into performing on stage (the doppleganger could not play any instruments).


----------



## Dpulse303

Nic certainly had me fooled as regards his charachters identity.
good roleplaying!
good writeup!
clapclapclapclap.....


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

It was really good roleplaying on Eccles part. Kept it up for 2 sessions. I had no idea at all until the very last fight where the doppleganger died... and that was only because he wasn't singing bardic songs at that point.

He'd been getting up to quite a lot of doppling behaviour as well. Tryign to persuade us not to do things and the like. Don't think any of us had twigged?

Was really well done!


Liked the writeup a lot. The dopplegulag stuff is excellent! Particularly like the multiple malachites taunting you. Along with the general paranoid horror atmosphere you got going... Thanks mate. 

Lets see if we can keep it a little easier to explain this week. Your typing fingers must be totally knackered!


On a side note, think Igmut was raising suspicions. The dice made him forget how to fight that week - had a streak of a dozen misses in a row against the invisible guys concealments.


----------



## Eccles

Now fully re-equipped and ready for the fray, I turned to the patch of wall where Flynne had indicated there might be a secret door. Flynne, however, had other ideas. He and Malachite prised one of the glowing stones out of the wall. It immediately rewarded them by going dark. Only when they’d removed and destroyed three of the magical lightsources did they give up, and Flynne unlocked the door hidden behind one of the mirrors. 

Beyond a short passage and another door lay a dizzying array of reflective lights and mirrors down a tight series of complex and narrow passageways. Gingerly, Flynne crept in first, followed by the rest of us. Dazzled by the bright lights glinting off every highly-polished surfaces, we moved around three tight corners, following Flynne as he tested and checked every surface. 

Suddenly, there was a metallic slam. A thick sheet of the tough metal slammed up out of the floor between Flynne and the following form of Igmut. We tried everything which we could think of; pushing, levering, hitting and even trying to carve through the sheet, before Flynne’s muffled voice came through the metal.

“It’s no good,” he announced. “I’ll try and find another way around and rejoin you."

Whilst we waited, we toyed with a number of ideas for getting through the wall blocking our passage. Having seen how thick the sheet was as it slammed across the passage, we realised that it would be the works of many hours to get through it by force. Endo toyed with the idea of changing his shape and turning himself into a rust monster to corrode his way through the walls. 

“Non-ferrous,” muttered the mage as he examined the walls closely. “Damn that lich.”

We pulled back to the maze’s entranceway to await Flynne’s return (and for me to ponder what Steve had meant about a lich in a complex filled with doppelgangers). Dimly, we could hear the faint sound of a second metal plate slamming across a distant passage behind Flynne as he explored further. Then we heard his voice howl in pain.

.oOo.

Unbeknownst to us at that point, Flynne had been viciously attacked by an unseen swordsman, which gashed him deeply, carving 4 terrible wounds across his torso. Horrified by the sudden ambush, Flynne then fled up the narrow metal corridors; a number of heavy plates slamming up behind him as he ran. 

In his flight, he caught sight of the one non-reflective surface in the maze – a single wooden door stood at the end of one of the narrow passageways. 

With the sound of the invisible assailant clanging up the passages behind him, Flynne made short work of the lock and slammed it shut behind him. He leant on the door and breathed heavily, fumbling at his belt for a restorative potion. 

.oOo.

With the sound of footsteps, cries of pain and the banging of a door, the four of us (plus a tiger) threw caution to the winds and started to run to Flynne’s help. However, each of us was hearing the sounds echoing down a different corridor. To my eyes, I saw Igmut hurtle away in his gleaming armour into the reflective passages. He leapt from one steely flagstone to another, before hurtling off in what was (to my eyes) completely the wrong direction. 

He was followed by Endo as I started a chant of encouragement which I hoped would reach Flynne’s ears wherever he was in the metal maze. Endo took a slightly different course to Igmut, but as he was rounding one corner I heard the resounding crash of a further metal plate slamming into place and sealing the corridor tight behind him. 

Sheba and Malachite also leapt into action, the faster tiger leading her master down the corridors, squeezing her large form down passages which were not designed with large animals in mind. Despite this impediment, she was still by far the faster, but as she dashed ahead of Malachite, yet another metal barrier slammed up out of the floor, leaving Malachite without his companion. 

Realising that all of my companions had all run off in different directions, I also hared off into the maze with a view to catching up with them. I could see dozens of their reflections glinting around as I ran, and waved a confirmation of what I thought _might_ have been Endo at the far end of what could have been a passageway or a series of tight twists and turns. A few seconds later, his enchanted form hurtled past me leaving me alone save a dozen reflections of his departing back.

Then, pain blossomed over my back. Two heavy sword blows tore past my armour to cause me agony. Shocked out of my singing, I glanced behind myself and saw nothing whatsoever. 

I fled, bouncing off the steel walls and leaking blood as I ran pell-mell through the maze.

.oOo.

Flynne looked around his new surroundings. A macabre chamber was laid out in front of him; to his right were a number of vats and a bloodstained, strap-covered wooden table. To his left was a long dais, raised ten feet from the floor. Atop the dais was an ostentatious throne, from which rose a tall familiar figure. 

“It is so kind of you to join me,” said the bearded figure of Allustan from in front of the throne. “It is time for you to learn the truth of things. Although, I am terribly sorry, but first I shall have to kill you!”

The bearded figure of Allustan started to chant a spell; his eyes fixed on Flynne.

Flynne’s reaction was almost poetically simple. He waited until ‘Allustan’ was nearly at the pinnacle of his spell before raising his bow and firing a single arrow. The long shaft slammed into the mage’s chest, and he cursed loudly as his concentration was broken. 

.oOo.

I caught up with the others, shouting out that there was something invisible chasing me even as I cast a curative spell on myself. Endo was also spellcasting, and gestured to send a dark ray of strength-draining magic towards the door which I could now see. The spell splashed against the wood of the door, clearly missing its intended (and invisible) target. Igmut was also here, and was swinging his sword in frustration, clearly also thwarted by his opponent’s invisibility.

.oOo.

Beyond the door, Flynne was horrified to see ‘Allustan’s face and body shift and _grow_ into the hulking 7 foot form of a greataxe-wielding half-orc. He snarled and leapt towards Flynne, the edge of the greatsword rimed with enchanted frost as it sliced through the air. 

The half-orc missed, and Flynne backflipped away from the fight. Bleeding heavily despite the effects of a hastily-swallowed potion, he leapt onto the dais and crouched in the rudimentary cover provided by the throne. 

.oOo.

I could hear the combat Flynne was involved in, together with he shouts of “get in here and _help me!_” through the door, even as I heard Malachite chant and the sudden sounds of a heavy hailstorm resounding through the twisting maze. Clearly, the creature which had caused me my grievous injuries had already caught up with Malachite and Sheba, who stood guard to the back of the group down the corridor. 

Before me, Igmut slashed a heavy blow through the creature at the door, whilst another of Endo’s spells flew wide, splattering draining energies against the door once again. The wood heaved and turned slightly grey, but held firm. 

.oOo.

Inside the room, the massive half-orc transformed in an instant back into Allustan’s much smaller form. He gestured, and a bright bead hurtled across the room and exploded. Flynne, his reactions usually so swift in the face of explosions and traps, failed him. He was very badly burned in the explosion, and leaned heavily on the throne for support.

.oOo.

Outside the room, things were going no better. Igmut had been taking the brunt of the invisible creature’s assault, and was by this stage bleeding from 7 or 8 serious injuries. He stepped away from the melee, and cast a spell on himself to repair many of his injuries. I assisted him by casting a protective illusion on him, making him appear slightly to the left of where he was actually standing whilst simultaneously rendering him invisible, hoping to befuddle his enemies into striking the wrong target. 

Endo, now face to face with the invisible foe at what was (for him) an alarmingly short distance, cast a complex-sounding spell before vanishing completely. I stared at the space he had occupied. Had he just teleported away? Had he truly learned so much whilst I had been in captivity? The far wall swam slightly as I stared at it, but I persuaded myself that this was yet another invisible creature heading towards Igmut and I. 

Suddenly, there was a short splattering noise. I turned sharply back to where Endo had been standing, and could see the air rippling and contorting slightly. Within his space there was a clear man-shaped void. Endo had not teleported away – he had turned into a clear gelatine-like substance, and the invisible creature had simply walked into him. And the foe wasn’t moving, paralysed by some strange property of Endo’s new form.

Growling, Sheba dashed around the corner of the corridor, blood matting her fur. I did what I could to cure her, and she dashed away up the passage. From where she ran, I could hear the sound of Malachite’s desperate chanting. 

.oOo.

Inside the room, Flynne fired once again at the chanting form of ‘Allustan’. Once again, the arrow sank into his shoulder, making him gasp in pain and grasp the wound, meaning that he couldn’t complete the intricate patterns of the spell he was weaving. 

.oOo.

Outside the room, Endo abruptly ceased being a gelatinous cube. There was a slapping noise as the paralysed invisible foe collapsed onto the floor. Endo gestured broadly to us to show where the fallen foe was, and drew a wand expectantly.

Igmut, ever ready for action, stepped forwards to open the door, and was rewarded with the vision of Allustan. My half-orc friend stopped abruptly, confused by the scene of a familiar face in such a chamber of horrors. From perhaps 15 feet away, Igmut could see Allustan’s features soften and expand, the features thickening and warping into the massive thuggish half-orc form. 

The enemy dashed across the room and brought his heavy axe down onto Flynne’s already heavily wounded body. With a flash of magical frost and a gout of blood, Flynne collapsed.

As I witnessed this carnage from behind Endo and Igmut, I could hear a second body collapsing behind me, coupled with a rage of fury from Sheba. Clearly, the second invisible enemy had just defeated Malachite in his valiant defence of us from behind.

.oOo.

Panicked, I dashed back through the twisting mirrored corridors, images of Malachite’s fallen body and the valiant, but already injured, Sheba’s flashing claws reflecting at me from every angle. I ran, bashing off several walls but following the smears and smatters of blood as I ran towards Sheba. 

From behind her, I cast the most powerful spell I had remaining, one of _displacement_ to make the big tiger a much harder target as she sniffed out and fought the invisible enemy, standing over Malachite’s body as she did so. 

.oOo.

In the room behind me, I could hear the sound of Endo casting another spell which I had never heard him use before, and a reflection of a roiling black cloud of strength-sapping energies could be seen enveloping a screaming Allustan in the larger room. As the enemy mage shouted in pain, a cluster of ethereal spirits with wicked hooks and claws hooked them into Allustan, tearing away and shredding part of his spirit. Endo then immediately raised the _Rod of Quickening_ and cast a second unfamiliar spell, and a second horde of tiny ghosts swarmed over the enemy, weighting down his limbs and making his every movement a laboured struggle.

As Endo was casting, Igmut swept up his longspear and charged the Allustan-like figure, a huge shower of blood pouring from a serious wound to his belly.

In response, the foe cast a spell of enfeeblement, draining a huge volume of strength from Igmut, whose flesh seemed to age and turn grey with the magical assault.

.oOo.

Turning my back on the fight, I cast what little healing magic I could on Sheba, who tore into the wounded invisible creature in the narrow corridor.

.oOo.

Back in the larger room, more spells flew, as Endo sent a series of wormlike spirits to attack ‘Allustan’s eyes. The spirits tried to burrow into the flesh and damage his eyesight, but ‘Allustan’ shook his head, and managed to avoid the spell’s effects.

Igmut reached to his belt, snatched up a flask and quaffed a potion, instantly removing the effects of the enfeeblement spell. 

Heavily injured, and affected by two very powerful spells, the doppelganger of Allustan snatched a dagger from his belt and turned to Flynne. 

“Try anything, and your friend will die,” he announced as he stepped forward to slash at the rogue’s throat. 

“Grab him!” Endo yelled.

As the enemy mage took a second step, Igmut launched himself horizontally at the mage, tackling him and dragging him to the floor. 

Behind the struggle, Endo hurtled across the room and tipped a potion down Flynne’s throat. The worst of the blood stopped seeping from the rogue’s wounds.

.oOo.

Meanwhile, the struggle in front of me was going from bad to worse. Slashed and hacked by a series of wounds from the invisible swordsman, Sheba slumped to the floor, struck again and again as the narrow corridor thwarted the large tiger’s efforts to dodge. Aghast, I realised that the lethal creature would be advancing on me next, and I backed off, drawing my thin rapier as I went.

.oOo.

Meanwhile, Igmut abruptly found that he wasn’t wrestling an fatigued and spirit-drained feeble wizard, but a fatigued and spirit-drained raging half orc barbarian. Gnashing his teeth, Igmut flew into a rage as well, and swiftly had his dagger out and thrusting at a heavily restrained enemy, the greataxe and longspear lying forgotten to one side. After a couple of savage thrusts at such close quarters, the enemy went abruptly limp and slumped, his face greying and his muscles shrinking as he subsided into the body of a swollen and ash-faced doppelganger. 

.oOo.

Fleeing, I yelled to my comrades that there was still another enemy coming. I dashed into a narrow corridor and dashed off a spell to make me invisible so that I could avoid the lethal stroke that might follow.

I could hear the careful steps of the approaching figure; heard it pause within inches of me, and then heard cloth of leather armour creak as a sword swing was brought down within inches of my face; saved only by the spell whilch I had so recently cast upon myself.

I ducked and scrambled away from the enemy, clinging to the wall and making the most of my invisibility to get away and join my fellows in the large room lined with vats and torture equipment. By the time I reached the room, Endo was headed in the opposite direction, again casting his spell of shapechanging before again taking the near-invisible form of the gelatinous cube right at the door.

Almost immediately, there was a fleshy tearing sound as Endo was slashed by the sword of the invisible enemy. A rent appeared in the gelatinous substance of his flesh, but Endo simply moved to envelop the second enemy, but there was no sound of his capturing anything other than the form of the aleady-paralysed villain on the floor.

Igmut and I moved to cast spells on Flynne, who soon blinked blearily at us, clutching his burns and multiple wounds in considerable pain. He staggered up to join Endo, who was already fumbling on the floor and stabbing at the paralysed enemy with his dagger. 

Around the corner, Igmut bellowed in anger, and there was a metallic clanging as his sword met the steely walls of the maze. Two wet fleshy thuds followed, leaving no doubt that his blow had bisected its target. 

A second wet gurgling came from the floor near Flynne and Endo, as Flynne’s sword came down where he felt was the softest target point.

.oOo.

We dashed away up the corridor, and reached both Malachite and Sheba in time. Miraculously, despite his injuries Malachite had received had stopped bleeding, but we cast a long series of spells from the restorative wands which we carried amongst us. 

We waited for the invisibility effects on the swordsmen to fade into sight. They turned out to be leather-clad doppelgangers, and piled them up with the corpse of the doppelganger ‘king’ Igmut had wrestled to death. 

Flynne spotted a pair of chests to one side of the room, and set to them with a set of lockpicks. As he worked on the first one, spears leapt up from the floor, catching him seriously and necessitating more use of wands before he could complete the unlocking of the chest almost 20 minutes later. It contained a large emerald, which emanated a powerful magic which Endo identified as necromantic in origin; he could only equate it to the phylactery of a lich.

Flynne turned to the second chest, and no sooner had he touched it than a massive trapdoor opened beneath his feet, dropping him some 40 feet onto yet more spearheads. 

A rope was lowered, more charges from the curative wands were used, and Flynne again took his time to unlock the chest. An identical enchanted emerald lay within, and we nervously closed both chests and placed them into a captured bag of holding along with the other items we scavenged from the fallen enemies. 

Taking one last look at the room, Flynne remarked, “Hey, guys – there’s another door hidden behind the throne over here, look!”

Swinging the door open, we stepped towards the next room in this terrible complex.


----------



## Dpulse303

Excellent , I loved Endo's use of the polymorph spell ,Gelatinous cube !, excellent!
great storytelling Nic.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Is an excellent write up there! Thanks!

Do like the confusion of that maze - comes across well? And trying to work out if we could cut through one of those panels. Non Ferrous horrors! 



It's cool how 3 'easy' opponents can become a total nightmare with a mirrored maze and a couple of improved invisibility effects. 

Endo was on fire that evening. Full of great ideas!


----------



## Eccles

After a few minutes spent scrutinising the wall with the concealed door in it, Flynne managed to trace his way back to a trigger set into the throne, which he activated. Grating slightly, the stone door swung open to reveal a luxuriously appointed bedchamber, lit gently with a number of small spells, and richly set with garments, superb furniture, a full-length mirror and a shifting, ever-colourful rug.

Squinting through my self-made new magical item, “_Evan’s Clair de Lunettes_”, I immediately picked out that the rug was enchanted with a slight decorative layer of illusion magic, whilst the mirror positively glared with the strength of divinatory magic. I hummed to myself a few bars from a song I had heard a few months previously, which spoke of the slaying of a cunning and evil witch. In the song, the heroic knight had used a mirror much like this to see when the witch was disguised as his fiancée.

I frowned, and activated my _Hat of Disguise_, taking the form of an elderly witch-woman before stepping in front of the mirror. Glinting in the enchanted lights, the mirror’s magic activated, and my normal form was reflected back at me, stripped not only of the hat’s illusory magics but also of the small false beard which I was sporting to amuse myself.

In the mirror behind me, I could see Flynne checking the desk, and once again pulling out his lockpicks. There was a short cracking sound, followed by a lengthy hiss, and Flynne was shrouded in a black gas. Coughing, he nevertheless managed to finish picking the lock, and a number of pieces of paper and a pouch of money were revealed. 

.oOo.

We examined the papers in depth, and learned that they showed a series of dealings in all the many spectrums of the city’s business. Religious affairs, financial transactions, even political machinations – all of these and more had been thoroughly infiltrated by the doppelgangers and what was clearly a huge number of their agents. 

One sheet of parchment in particular called for attention, written as it was in a dialect of undercommon which I was able to decipher:

“I have a task for you, thrall. Meet me at the sewer junction beneath the Cold Forge, and I will give you the details. There are some troublesome small minds which need dealing with.”

The page was signed with a curious tentacular squiggly stamp.

.oOo.

Malachite stripped the bed and wrapped the mirror carefully, whilst the rest of us took any items which might prove valuable and scooped the lot into the magic bag which I held open, before we backtracked our way through to the main corridor, with double doors at either end. 

Over the course of a few minutes, Flynne managed to defeat the locks at either end of the passage, as well as disarming a pit trap at the eastern end. Having wedged this shut, he pulled at the door handle, and then swore.

“Damn it! All that time, and it’s another false door. Built straight onto the plaster!”

He stomped back to the western end, and pushed the double doors wide open.

They swung open onto the scene of a large room, lined with shelves and with 2 chair-ringed wooden tables. 

Over the course of the next hour, we searched through the books and maps we found in this library-room. Intricate plans; circles within complex circles of the doppelganger’s strategies lay open to us. Though the documents were careful not to name any of their agents, they set out in considerable detail what the shape-changers had done to infiltrate, influence and corrupt the significant agencies within the town.

.oOo.

Having satisfied ourselves that we had learned as much as we could, and having placed these books on top of the seized parchments from the bedchamber, we moved towards the room with the deep pool of water in it. My comrades assured me that there would be no danger, as they had killed the giant octopus in its depths. 

Flynne swung the door open, closely followed by Igmut and with the rest of us following on behind. We were immediately met with the vision of two dark-skinned lithe elves standing on the central pillar. High up in the wall to our left was a new opening which had not been there on the one time I had been into this room. Standing in the opening was a six foot tall dark-robed figure. Although it was shrouded in shadows and an almost palpable aura of menace, I could see a group of writhing purple/blue tentacles dangling down where the lower half of its face should have been. 

The front-most drow’s hand crossbow clicked twice, firing small darts in Flynne’s direction. The second mumbled something before gesturing in our direction. An instant later, an area of shadowy darkness sprung up around myself and my friends. 

I started to play a tune of bravery and encouragement on my lute (backing out of the dark area as I did so). Once I had gone far enough backwards, I shouted to my fellow adventurers that the darkness cleared out in the main corridor near Sheba. 

.oOo.

Back in the narrow passageway leading to the drow, I could hear a faint burbling noise from Flynne, as he succumbed to some other sinister power, then I saw Igmut storming out of the dark sphere dragging an apparently insensible Flynne by the collar of his chainmail shirt. 

Just as Igmut was hurling Flynne towards me, a small bead of bright light hurtled out of the dark corridor, and my comrades and I were enveloped in a mighty explosion. I was unable to shield Flynne’s body from the blast, but did manage to use his prone form as a rudimentary form of cover. I then dragged his scorched and still stunned form into one of the nearby bedrooms, healing him with a wand in my possession, whilst Malachite and Igmut both started a series of spells.

The door into the water-room slammed shut, closed by some creature Malachite had summoned. There was no assault at this stage, and so as I braced myself by the door with a wand pointed at the passage the drow would inevitably attack from, Malachite used a restorative wand on Sheba, and Igmut cast another spell of self-improvement. 

Briefly, there was the screech of a monkey from near the door, followed by the crash of wood on stone and then the sound of steel on flesh. The screeching abruptly stopped. 

Malachite began to summon another animal totem, and Igmut cast yet another of Kord’s spells of power. Positively glowing with righteous power, he hefted his longspear in one hand, and raised it towards the passageway. 

At this point, the first of the dark-skinned elves dashed out of the passageway, and the _magic missiles_ from my wand simply fizzled out as they closed on their target. Foolishly, I had forgotten about the natural magical resistance of the drow. 

Sheba the tiger lashed out and gouged deep furrows into the first drow-elf to come down the corridor, and it responded by flinging a bag at Igmut, which burst and glued him fast to the floor of the tunnel. The second drow stepped in behind it and slashed with a rapier at Sheba. 

Unwilling to waste a second spell on the drow, I instead turned and cast at Flynne, turning him invisible in the hope that the drow might miss him if the rest of us were forced to flee. Back in the corridor, Malachite’s spell was concluded with the appearance of a 6 foot tall lizardlike creature with fearsome teeth and claws, which bit and tore at the first attacker.

Igmut swing his heavy spear in a single precise move. It hurtled up and through the first drow, slaying it in an instant before slashing narrowly past the second advancing drow, who simply stepped over the body of his dead comrade and thrust his rapier deeply into Sheba’s side. 

.oOo.

I stepped forwards, fumbling at my belt and pulling out an expensive glass pot of salve, which I rubbed over the glue sticking to Igmut. He was immediately able to step free of the tanglefoot bag’s effects, dropping the spear (which was still thrust through the chest of the first drow), and unslinging the massive frost-enchanted greataxe from his back. As Sheba and the summoned velociraptor hacked and clawed at the drow, Igmut’s magical axe scythed through the air, and tore a pair of vicious holes in the dark chainmail, killing the dark-elf in two massive hits.

Igmut continued by dashing into the fading darkness, and then we heard his voice yelling “clear! Creature gone and gap closed!”

.oOo.

We worked our way back out through the complex, taking turns to ride a floating barrel up a narrow tunnel which filled with rapidly flooding water, then along a terribly slippery complex of narrow wooden planks. We paused to collect the broken shell of a madman that the others had left locked in a cell, and to notice the broken body of second captive, an elf woman at the bottom of a pit trap within a large and dusty warehouse. 

Despite the fact that I’d never been there, my comrades were very reluctant to go ‘back’ to the ‘Crooked House’ inn. Of course, they only said they didn’t want to go there after singing the praises of its food, hospitality and the comfort of its rooms. Instead, we reached a much smaller and foul-looking inn just as the equally foul-looking innkeeper woman was closing her door for the night.

I was swift to put my foot in the door, and beamed a smile at her.

“Surely, mistress, you would not close your door on 5 paying guests, who ask little but a beer and a room for the night?”

She appeared unimpressed, so I smiled all the wider, and discussed matters with her. Ultimately, after a depressingly small handful of silver had changed hands, she relented and let us stay in a single boring bunk room, its walls still spattered with the blood of a previous tenant.

.oOo.

The following day, we left the squalid in with a sense of relief. Across town, we entered the home of a man the others introduced as ‘Eligos’, who stormed angrily into the room demanding to know why we had interrupted his important meeting. He noticed that we weren’t looking at him, but were all gazing intently at his reflection in the full-length mirror which Malachite had carefully set up in one corner of the room.

“Why have you brought divination magics into my home?” he demanded after strolling across to stand in front of the mirror. His reflection showed that he wasn’t a doppelganger, and also that he dyed his greying hair.

After an awkward series of apologies and explanations followed, and Eligos was swift to appreciate the seriousness of our claims. He offered to host a series of dinners, receiving the great and the good of the city in his house so that he could look at them. He would, of course, need to borrow the divinatory mirror to accomplish this, and might need to call upon us if he were to discover anything. He was proud to announce that receiving so many important and influential guests would not be a problem, as he was due to act as one of the sponsors of the Free City Games, which were due to start in a week.

Having handed over all of the doppelgangers’ papers, we also produced the two enchanted emeralds, and asked him if he knew what they might be. Holding one at arm’s length, he cast a spell, and then left the room muttering. 5 minutes later, he returned clutching a heavy book, and cast a second spell on the emerald.

“I believe that these are mind clones,” he pronounced. “A person’s entire personality, knowledge, skills and abilities could be copied onto a crystal such as this – however I do not know how to activate the crystal or what it might contain.”

He dropped the emerald back into its chest and the chest was placed carefully back into the magic bag before we discussed what we should do next. Once again, Eligos made a suggestion.

“One of these pieces of paper,” he interjected whilst fishing through the captured parchments. “It made mention of a meeting place under the… here it is. Under the Cold Forge. I can give you directions to the Forge if it would assist, although I would try to stay on the good side of its owner, Crusty Patton, if I were you.”

Thanking him, we left his house, assuring him that we would return when he needed us.


----------



## Eccles

We were missing Endo's player in that session, as you might have noticed. 

Also, Al - hurry up and post that darn photo of the fight in the mirror-place before we're so far past it that it's stopped being relevant!


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Nice writeup there again Mr Eccles!

Will try to extract those piccies off my phone this evening. Although the thing is being mutinous right now. :/


----------



## Morrus

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> Nice writeup there again Mr Eccles!
> 
> Will try to extract those piccies off my phone this evening. Although the thing is being mutinous right now. :/




Text 'em to me if you like - I can get them up here easily enough.


----------



## Morrus

Here's the pic.  Didn't come out great, though.


----------



## The_Warlock

Morrus said:
			
		

> Here's the pic.  Didn't come out great, though.




But it does prove that cigarette packs are about the right elevation scale for 25mm minis...


----------



## Eccles

Gah! It's giving me "mirror-maze" flashbacks!

That nearly went soooo wrong... Flynne, Malachite and Sheba all in negatives, me only surviving thanks to a single 50% miss chance... Gods it was close!


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Eccles said:
			
		

> Gah! It's giving me "mirror-maze" flashbacks!
> 
> That nearly went soooo wrong... Flynne, Malachite and Sheba all in negatives, me only surviving thanks to a single 50% miss chance... Gods it was close!




Very!

And I did enjoy that encounter... I think if we'd all started in a nice clear room as a group, then we'd have steamrollered it?

However add in some complex terrain and a bit of splitting up and it all got very tough indeed 




			
				The_One_Warlock said:
			
		

> But it does prove that cigarette packs are about the right elevation scale for 25mm minis...




Supose it's good for something then.

Do you think we should try tapping up Malboro for some product placement money? 

Redbull and malteasers too...

As you can likely guess, we're a healthy bunch.


----------



## The_Warlock

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> Supose it's good for something then.
> 
> Do you think we should try tapping up Malboro for some product placement money?
> 
> Redbull and malteasers too...
> 
> As you can likely guess, we're a healthy bunch.




Absolutely! Cross-Marketing at it's finest...I mean, you smoke the cigarettes, and then, rather than throwing the packs away, you are immediately re-using/recycling them. That's green gaming. Evironmental watch dog groups will love you for it! You should definitely be getting some marketing payback for that. Possibly even grants. 

Redbull columns in a Temple of Evil Caffienation....hmmmm.


----------



## Eccles

Having armed ourselves, we set out in towards the Cold Forge. As we walked, I passed my _hat of disguise_ to Flynne, and pulled on a garish lozenge-patterned robe. We parted from the others, who agreed to wait for a while in a nearby inn, and after Flynne had disguised himself as well, we strode down the last street to the forge itself, aiming to somehow discover if there was an entrance to the sewer system within it. 

Standing outside, we could see smoke billowing from the chimneys, and a considerable number of customers inside, bit no obvious large enough drains on the outside of the building. Inside, a single broad-shouldered and balding man stood working the forge, sweat and food stains matting the grubby vest which strained to encompass his pot belly. 

Smoothing my hair back and checking the line of my false moustache, I strode into the inn and straight up to the smith, Flynne at my side. Ignoring the man who was waiting for service, I addressed the smith in a loud and pompous voice.

“Mr Patton?” I asked. “My name is Gruntfuttock; J. Peasemold Gruntfuttock, chairman and owner of ‘Gruntfuttock and Sons’ travel and shipping in the cities to the south. No doubt you will have heard of us?

“I am looking for a good smith,” I went on without giving him an opportunity to respond. “The man would have to be capable of maintaining and repairing wagons, carriages, coaches and carts of all descriptions, as well as basic horsecare and a considerable amount of shoeing. Needless to say, the income would be considerable for a truly skilled smith.”

With the prospect of future earnings gleaning in his piggy eyes, the smith leapt to explain his skills, talking at a considerable degree of length about his shoeing experience. Struggling not to yawn, I allowed him to talk about his skill, his many rich clientele and the intricate works which he had done in the past. Apparently, the sweaty smith had crafted a saddle pommel for the King of Moderovia, but the wayward monarch hadn’t sent any payment for it. 

Trying not to breathe through my nose, I draped one arm over the man’s hairy shoulders and turned to gesture at his work. Although there was clearly no saddle pommel in this front room, I gestured at the ironmongery in his workroom.

“I would very much like to see such an intricate creation, master smith,” I announced, gently turning Patton towards his back room and allowing him to ‘lead’ me further into the inner recesses of the store, Flynne following quietly on behind us.

Once inside and alone, I asked the smith to explain in detail both the making of the pommel and to speak to me at considerable (and interminable) length about horseshoes and shoeing. As he went on, I gestured behind my back towards the stairs, and saw Flynne creeping away out of the corner of my eye. 

A few minutes later, there was a cough from the corner of the room. Flynne had returned, and he nodded at me when I looked quizzically at him. 

5 minutes later, we were back on the street; Patton the blacksmith confident with the promise of considerable business from Gruntfuttock and Sons. Flynne and I strolled back to the bar to rejoin the others, where my elven companion confirmed that in the basement of the forge there was a substantial steel manhole leading into the city sewers beneath. 

Retrieving my hat, I concentrated briefly and changed my outwards appearance into that of a pubescent messenger boy. Turning, I dashed back to the forge clutching a scroll of paper and a small pouch of coins. As I reached the door of the smithy, I unrolled the scroll and spoke (rather than reading the _glitterdust_ spell which was written upon it). 

“Smith Patton, my master the lord Ignavius requires your urgent attention,” I announced, quoting one of the names which Patton had mentioned to me just a little while ago. “He is due to go upon a hunt with a group of close friends in celebration of the forthcoming games. Unfortunately, however, my lord’s horse has thrown a shoe and he insists that you come to deal with the situation forthwith. To that end, he sends his messenger and a silver coin as a gesture of goodwill and a downpayment for your swift assistance.”

Bowing, I rolled up the scroll and tucked it back into my belt. Handing the sweaty blacksmith the silver coin, I looked at him expectantly. 

“Tell your master that I shall be with him as soon as is expedient,” he said irritably. “I’ll be there in about half an hour.”

At his gesture of dismissal, I turned and darted back into the street, losing my disguise in the morning crowd and rejoining my companions in the bar, where we watched the smithy from down the street. A little over half an hour later, the smith lumbered out of his shopfront and locked the door before carrying a bag of heavy-looking tools with him down the street. 

Grinning, I passed the _hat of disguise_ back to Flynne, and gestured down the street at the locked smithy. His face and clothes shimmered into an identical vision to that of Patton the smith. After a few moments work at the door, it sprang open and Flynne waved an all clear at us. As a group, we entered the empty forge and headed for the cellar, as Flynne locked the door behind us. 

.oOo.

Standing over the manhole, we waited for Igmut to cast a series of spells. He was joined by Endo’s sinister collection of empowering spirits and shrouds whilst Malachite produced a wand and cast a strengthening charm on Sheba. He followed this up with a spell from his own repertoire, which wreathed the tiger’s orange and black body in a woody protective cast. 

Meanwhile, Flynne searched the room, and picked up a crowbar from a nearby stack of metal before using it to lever the manhole out of the floor. The stench of the sewer line flowing slowly beneath us assaulted our noses, and Sheba growled at the appalling smell. Shrugging, we leapt in, but not before Igmut grinned and cast one final spell. His armoured form crashed into the sewer line, sending a dreadful shower of filth raining around the rest of us. Rising from a crouch as we all wiped sewer-water from our faces and clothes, Igmut’s mithril armour was completely immaculate, untouched by any dirt, and protected by his last spell.

“ don’t stick to Igmut,” he grinned toothily as he reached up to pull the manhole closed behind him.

.oOo.

By the light of the heatless enchanted torch, Malachite and Flynne scrutinised the walls, and the druid was able to find a number of marks in the slime to suggest that the sewer pipe was surprisingly well travelled; almost all of the traffic going in one direction. 

His elven eyes glimmering in the half-light, Flynne crept upstream, crouching behind a log as he did so. After 60 feet of nothing, Malachite indicated that the tracks had come to and end, and Flynne’s brief search indicated that there was something under the flow of liquid filth. Igmut reached in and grasped a short lever, pulling it to cause the tunnel wall to slide sideways. 

Up a step and out of the sewage, there was a rough stony chamber lit by softly glowing fungi. The floor was covered with patches of a yellow mould and studded with tall purple toadstools which I guessed to be shrieking fungus, using the description given in Estrada’s epic _Ode to the Fall of Vitruvius_. 

Whilst the others considered how best to get across without triggering the screaming toadstools or stepping near the possibly poisonous yellow mould, Flynne was swift in plotting a course which he could acrobatically leap and tumble across.

Watching his movements carefully, I imitated him, leaping and twisting as I dashed the length of the cavern to an exit on the other side. Malachite, meanwhile, used a powerful spell to give Sheba the ability to walk on air, and he, Endo and Igmut rode in turn on tiger-back over the tops of the deadly fungi to join us.

.oOo.

By the time they arrived, Flynne had already returned from an initial scouting sortie. With one finger across his lips, he mouthed the word “drow”, and pointed; indicating that three of the dark-elves were in a ledge to the right some distance down the passage. 

Concerned that Igmut would give us away in his heavy armour, the orc cast a spell of _silence_ on the fletchings of an arrow, which Flynne fired after we had moved as close as he deemed safe. A second of Flynne’s ice-covered arrows slammed into the chest of the closest drow, whose face contorted in agony as he clutched for his own weapons. 

Sheba dashed forwards to cut off their escape, and was enveloped in a silent explosion of fire as she did so. Despite many burns, she continued past the drow in their raised ledge to block their safe passage further into the tunnel.

As I started to sing encouragement towards the others, Igmut dashed in, hacking at the closest elf. Although his greatsword crashed into the already injured elf, it weathered this blow as well. I began to reassess the frail-looking drow’s endurance. 

For his part, Endo stepped to just at the edge of the silent area which encompassed the three drow and Igmut, and cast a familiar spell. The dozens of ripping and tearing spirits which rushed from his hands and flew towards the drow impacted as usual, but speared to be completely unable to gain purchase on the dark-elf. Their evil talons and fingers flailed and snatched, but somehow something innate about the creature thwarted them, and they simply evaporated, their mouths open in silent screams.

A second barrage of arrows stabbed into the chest of the wounded drow, and he finally collapsed from his many injuries. As he fell, the walls shook slightly as Malachite’s spell completed. A squat, 3 foot elemental of stone clambered out of the wall of the ledge and smashed its clublike hands into the back of one of the two remaining drow. 

Both drow responded by pulling bags from their belts and hurling them. One spattered across Igmut’s chestplate, and then the glue-like substance simply slipped off his armour, unable to find purchase on him after the _Freedom of Movement_ enchantment he had cast on himself before jumping into the sewer-slime. 

The other bag crashed into Sheba’s side, gluing up her fur considerably despite the wood-like protective magic Malachite had cast on her. Having thrown the bag at her, this second drow leapt off the ledge and dashed past Sheba, ducking and diving under her sweeping claws as they swung at him. 

Seeing this, Igmut leapt down the corridor after the escaping drow, whilst Flynne jumped up onto the ledge to combat the drow still caught in the zone of silence. Sheba stepped up, standing on the air through the powers of Malachite’s magic to swing out with her claws at him and tearing past his chainmail armour as she did so. Another summoned elemental swam out of the earth at the far end of the passageway, further impeding the third drow’s escape, who cried out “Intruders! Man the defences!” in the undercommon tongue as I dashed through the silences area to see if I could help Igmut in some way.

.oOo.

Behind me, the already glue-covered and burn-scarred Sheba was heavily slashed by the implacable sword-wielding drow, whilst Igmut’s heavy sword smashed down twice, cleaving a pair of deep wounds through his enemy’s torso and then just as the dark-elf turned to try to run me through with its last gasp, Igmut’s sword came down once again, bringing the drow to the floor in a crash of chainmail. 

Casting swiftly, I stepped into the silent area of magical null-sound and touched Sheba, curing her from some of her more serious wounds, but she was then slashed once again by the evil elf. 

Flynne’s sword-stroke went wild, but Sheba and the small elemental between them brought the surviving drow to his knees. 

.oOo.

We ransacked the fallen elves, and then I cast a spell of invisibility on Flynne to allow him to creep forwards. He improved his situation even more by pulling the arrow with the silence spell on it out of the chest of one of the dead drow before creeping away down the tunnel away from us.

A few minutes later, Igmut stiffened as Flynne tapped him on the shoulder in the suddenly returning silence. Sound was restored as Flynne put the _silenced_ arrow away somewhere and then informed us that the next chamber was empty save for a pool which glowed greenly from its depths.

We moved forwards, Flynne preceding us still invisible and clutching the arrow of silence. 

.oOo.

Entering the next dimply lit passage, which did indeed contain a glowing pool fed by a stream, Igmut stiffened again as he heard a hissing voice from dangerously near him.

“I think you owe me an apology,” the voice whispered to him. “You have disssturbed my slumber. My name is Fassash, and I shall dessstroy you for your dissscourtesssy unlessss you make an appropriate apology.”

“Breakfast good,” replied Igmut to the open cavern. “Igmut always like breakfast when woken early?”

Sibilant spellcasting syllables echoed around the room, and Sheba abruptly dropped out of the air as Malachite’s spell of _air walking_ on the tiger was severed. She landed lightly on her paws and sniffed the air around her cautiously, as a long sinuous creature materialised on a rock within the cavern. The limbless, snakelike body of the creature was banded in purple and black, and it was topped with a human-like head with two massive canine teeth and lank dark hair. 

“Naga,” muttered Endo in a warning from behind me. “Watch the teeth, the eyes… oh, and the spellcasting”. 

.oOo.

Still communicating with Igmut, the creature demanded a payment to allow us to pass safely without killing us, and Igmut (to my very great surprise) obediently held up and tossed an enchanted morningstar into the glowing pool.

“Acceptable,” hissed the naga. “In fact, your offer is ssso acceptable that I ssshall anssswer one quessstion you might asssk”. 

“Easy,” replied Igmut. “What’s down there?” He gestured forwards down the corridor. 

“Zaragog the dirty illithid,” came the hissed answer. “And hisss drow compatriotsss. Now, you may passs.”

Igmut, Endo, Flynne, Sheba and I moved past the naga, but dimly behind us there was a soft sound of a foot stepping on gravel. Flynne. 

“Betrayersss!” The naga shouted at the realisation that there was another one of us in the room invisibly. “Falssse traitorsss!” 

The creature began to cast a spell.

Leaping into action, Sheba pounced at the snake-creature, and slashed at it with her claws, but her blow slashed though a displaced image of the creature, which was within a couple of feet of the image. Casting a spell, Malachite aided his pet by summoning a lightning storm into the room, and electricity crashed down from the ceiling and playing around the naga’s body.

Endo cast a spell of his own, sending a pale stream at the naga’s eyes – the spell coalesced into a cluster of maggots, and the creature itself flailed around unable to see through its suddenly milky-white eyes.

Dashing across the cavern, I spoke a couple of words of power which greatly improved my chant of courage and empowered all of my companions a great deal, before the naga shouted out.

“I am blind! I wasss merely going to cassst a ssspell to purge the invisssibility!”

By this time, however, it was too late, and combat was joined. Even blind, the creature knew its lair well, and wormed away towards the edge of the chamber, turning invisible as it moved so that we had no idea where it might have gone and what might happen next.

Igmut was equal to the task, however. He chanted a prayer to Kord, asking his god to remove any invisibility near him. It became clear that Flynne wasn’t close enough to Igmut to be affected, but the naga was – it was within inches of me with venom dripping from its long fangs!

Sheba pounced again, and was bitten for her troubles, whilst I dived backwards firing with my wand as I leapt through the air. A couple of small enchanted missiles slapped into the creature, but the damage was fairly minimal. Still blinded, the creature backed away a little further and then opened its fanged mouth to cast a spell. However, no sound came from its maw, and it stared blankly around itself in utter confusion. Flynne had clearly flung the arrow towards it to stop it having any chance of casting a spell at all.

Instead, the creature changed its mind, bit Sheba once again and then moved away towards the tunnel we had entered through. Behind it, Flynne appeared and swung his sword to deadly effect, and he was soon assisted by Igmut who plunged his longspear into the creature’s scaly body, and then Sheba dashed in and tore the naga apart with her claws, shaking the snakelike body in her massive teeth. 

Retrieving Igmut’s magical morningstar out of the pool was the work of moments, and we managed to pick up a couple of other items (including a rather attractive bottle filled with an infinite amount of smoke) from the water whilst we were at it. A few moments later, we strode towards the tunnel from the room (pausing only to see Flynne stuffing the naga’s tail into a _bag of holding_. 

As we passed through the entrance to another cavern, there was a click. Looking up, we could all see a pair of drow in a ledge towards the ceiling pointing small crossbows at us. Beneath them were three more armed and armoured male drow with swords readied to receive us, and behind those three stood a lithe and confident-looking female drow who clutched a writhing holy symbol made of dark metal in her hands. 

“Oh dear,” muttered Igmut, his clattering of his armour falling silent as he came to an abrupt halt.


----------



## Tamlyn

Eccles said:
			
		

> “Oh dear,” muttered Igmut, his clattering of his armour falling silent as he came to an abrupt halt.




Brilliant! 

Well done. I hate Illithids, Drow, and Nagas. All three in one area would really have me on edge.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Tamlyn said:
			
		

> Brilliant!
> 
> Well done. I hate Illithids, Drow, and Nagas. All three in one area would really have me on edge.




Agreed - to complete the set, all we need is a floating ball of fat with death rays stuck to it!   

Be very interested to see what the rest of the Temple of Evil Caffienation has in store for us!




Thanks for the writeup there Mr Eccles! 

Didn't your character end up with a rank or two in Knowledge(Horse Shoeing) after that very long lecture on the subject? 




			
				Eccles said:
			
		

> His elven eyes glimmering in the half-light, Flynne crept upstream, crouching behind a log as he did so.




In a  sewer.

Nice touch!


----------



## Dpulse303

well theres a thing wednesday and no write up (so far) shameless err bump i think.
hurry Nic our ratings are slipping!


----------



## Eccles

I know, I know... 

Weird excuse, but I have got to write my GM's reference. I'll *try* and get something done tonight, but I can't make any cast-iron guarantees...


----------



## Eccles

To nobody’s surprise, except perhaps that of the drow cleric, Flynne was the first person to move. Swiftly, he nocked arrows to his enchanted bow and fired a brace of arrows into the lithe dark elf’s body. As they slammed home, they somehow both smashed through a _huge_ number of dimly glowing and flickering enchantments which wreathed around her. 

At her silent command, the three drow swordsmen dashed forwards towards Igmut, who was somehow already swinging his heavy longspear to meet them. He jabbed out at each of the three as they charged him, managing to gouge heavy wounds into two of them. Their sword-swings at the half orc weren’t as accurate, and all three swords bounced off Igmut’s bright mithril armour. 

Chanting as fast as I was able, I garbled out the words to a spell of _hasting_, improving all of my comrades’ reaction speed, and giving them an opportunity to back away from the fight. I added more blocks between us and the drow by pulling a newly captured flask from the top of my satchel and flinging it towards the foe – instantly a colossal volume of smoke poured from the neck of the bottle, swallowing up all sight of the drow and Igmut as I backed away from it into the cavern so recently occupied by the naga. 

Suddenly, a spell burst from within the edge of the smoke, clearly cast by the drow cleric. I could feel my common sense pouring out of my brain as all my muscles went rubbery and I developed an overpowering urge to try to tell everyone what my problem was. I  just couldn’t get the words out, and the room swam around me.

.oOo.

Everything snapped back to normal as Igmut backed up towards me, clearly trying to stay close to not only Flynne, but also Sheba the tiger who had obviously fallen foul of the same spell of confusing. 

Around me, I could hear the sounds of weapons and claws striking flesh from within the smoke, whilst Malachite chanted continually to summon creature after creature which could see, smell or sense what might happen within the dense cloud. To assist in the confusion, I cast a spell to create the sound of a number of massive bats flapping around within the smoke cloud, to give the drow something else to swing at.

From within the ever-growing dense cloud there came the growling, rending, slashing, hacking sound of drow, Igmut and Malachite’s many elemental creatures deep in combat. Malachite’s chanting came to a brief end, and the sound of genuine dire bats was added to my false creations within the smoke, which expanded still more. Unable to move further away from Igmut, the wall of smoke rolled over me, making my eyes and throat sting as I tried to breathe. 

Also within the smoke, I could hear Flynne firing blindly at something, whilst Sheba howled wildly in pain. Near her position, Malachite summoned yet more creatures which writhed in the darkness, one part of their largely unseen bodies glowing dimly through the smoke. 

A distance behind me, there was the sound of Endo casting another spell, followed by his voice swearing and then shouting in pain. 

Unable to see what was going on, I began to chant an orcish battle anthem, hoping to improve Igmut’s martial prowess, but over the sound of my singing I could hear more casting, both from Endo and also in the undercommon tongue. Somehow, the cleric had gone through the smoke and was now behind us and duelling with my friend the mage.

.oOo.

A wet slashing sound followed, and Igmut’s voice raised in triumphant bellow in counterpoint to the savage chant I was singing. Briefly, a surge of wet entrails covered my feet, and the head of a second drow bounced across the floor with a surprised look upon its bloodied features. Two of the drow had clearly fallen to a single massive swing of Igmut’s massive sword, and an instant later, the third drow swordsman was brought down by a horde of savage beasts, which then flapped, crawled or tunnelled past me towards where the drow cleric so plainly was.

Feeling his way into the smoke, Endo cast a spell of protection on me from a wand, and then pressed it into my hand.

“You’ll be safe from the confusion effect now,” he hissed at me. “Go and help the others.”

Turning, I blundered into Flynne in the smoke, and was quick in triggering the magic in the wand to protect him from the spell which was threatening to turn him into a burbling fool if he stepped away from Igmut. Nodding grimly, he stepped away and faded into the smoke. 

.oOo.

Off to my right, Endo shouted “she’s airborn – and invisible!”

A brief spell was cast in an orcish plea to Kord, and then Igmut stepped out of the smoke.

“Not any more she isn’t,” he announced smugly as his _Invisibility Purge_ spell took effect.

There was a cry of pain in undercommon, followed by some spellcasting in the same language. As I stepped out of the smoke-cloud (which appeared to have stopped expanding), I witnessed her casting another spell of _confusion_ which washed over Malachite, and I saw his face go slack. It would probably have swept me away with it once again, but for the effects of Endo’s wand.

I stepped across and tapped Malachite with the wand, and he was instantly alleviated from the mind-controlling magics. 

Whilst Igmut stepped up through the air (using a scroll passed to him by Malachite), and Endo flew under a mystical power of his own. Igmut swung at her with his heavy sword, and then Flynne bent his bow. An arrow impaled the drow female through the head, and she dropped, somehow slowly and gracefully, to the ground.

.oOo.

After collecting what we could from the fallen drow, and wondering where the 2 crossbow-armed drow had gone (with the missing bottle of smoke). There was a door and a narrow passage out of the room, and we turned to the doorway, knowing that we were now short on powers and spells and that there was still a mind flayer out there somewhere. 

Nervously, Flynne picked the lock and the door swung open.

4 lumbering dead forms turned to meet us, dreadful holes punched through each of their skulls. Their rotting flesh dripped with tiny-yet-familiar green worms.

“Uh oh,” muttered Igmut, under his breath.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

The horrors of DIY work caused me to miss this update, so a (slightly! ) late read from me.

I'm impressed you managed to pull some clarity from that fight! One of the most confusing things I've run across in a heck of a long time. Quite decidedly vicious too... 

The hordes of slavering wild animals seemed to be the only ones who knew what was going on. Wish I had blind/tremor/whatever-sense as well.


----------



## Eccles

Malachite summoned a *lot* in that fight. What did it end up with?

4 dire bats, 2 earth elementals, 3 thoqquas... Did I miss anything? We reached a point where Igmut couldn't reach the fight, even with the benefit of his longspear...

No update for you this week, 'coz almost everyone was ill, incapable of speech, had no transport, or was knackered thru DIY. I think that the general concensus was that I, as the person who wasn't ill, could talk, and had a car, officially "won D&D" for the week.

Still - no typing this week. I guess I get to read someone else's SH!


----------



## Morrus

It was a friggin' nightmare to run!


----------



## Morrus

Greta sessioj last night - I can't wait to see the write up!  Almost out of resources, the PCs decided to push forward into the caves; last night they were crapping themselves several times!


----------



## Eccles

Morrus said:
			
		

> Greta sessioj last night - I can't wait to see the write up!  Almost out of resources, the PCs decided to push forward into the caves; last night they were crapping themselves several times!




You mean we had a choice? Damn it!


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> You mean we had a choice? Damn it!




Oh, you had a choice.  Pushing on was a bad move; the alternative, resting, would have been suicidal.


----------



## Eccles

I know, I know... I've had 2 days off and not posted anything... I'm working on it at the moment. I've got 4 hours before we play the next installment...

Blame Shemeska...


----------



## Eccles

Lurching forwards, the lumbering undead tottered; positively dripping worms to the floor as they paced towards Flynne in the doorway. Staring at the creature in horror, the elf darted backwards, raising his bow as he tumbled and then sending a single arrow slamming into the creature’s chest. 

The rotting figure barely even twitched, whilst off to Flynne’s left Endo pondered, caressed his spellbook (filled to the brim with sinister undead-related spells) and then tossed a flask of holy water at the closest lumbering figure. Flesh dissolved as though immersed in acid, and spatters of water and rotting flesh dotted the other three zombies as all four continued towards us, moaning in lingering agony.

As they closed, Igmut’s spear danced through the air between us. 1 was immediately torn in two, and collapsed to the floor. The point of the spear tore into another before Sheba’s orange furred form closed the gap and tore into a third, tearing the flesh from the bones and destroying the zombie utterly in a moment. 

Whilst Malachite swung his sharp scimitar at another, I produced a slim wand from my bag and blasted it with a small number of tiny globes of force. As gobbets of flesh pattered to the floor, Igmut dropped his spear and swung his greatsword over his head and dispatched another zombie. His sword tore straight through the zombie and into the other, killing it as well.

As the zombies collapsed, the worms bubbled up through their mangled flesh and fell to the floor, wriggling slowly across the floor towards us. Grinning, Flynne and Endo poured flasks of oil around the worms, and then they were burned in a foul-smelling wriggling mass. 

.oOo.

Leading away from the zombie-cavern were three narrow corridors, which wound tightly together, all emerging into the same second room. Within were a number of unkempt figures. Clearly captives, they huddled together in one corner as we strode into the room, weapons and spells at the ready.

One of the figures, an elven woman, threw herself at our feet.

“Please,” she begged. “Release us! We have been caught here for weeks. We cannot escape, as there are zombies blocking the corridor…”

She trailed off at the sight of my grin. 

“Fear not, good woman,” I replied whilst shouldering my crossbow. “The adventuring band of Bunwhacket Gruntfuttock have despatched the undead abominations, and the path is clear for us to lead you to an escape.”

As I said this, a sudden discussion broke out behind me. 

“Are you mad? Lead them out? It could take ages!”
“Yeah, but we could stay out there and rest. My spells are running low.”
“But the villains could escape!”
“If we take too long, my enchantments will wear off!”
“Treasure…”
“Spells…”
“Rewards…”
“I’ve got a scroll – I could teleport out and then buy another…”
“How many can you carry?”
“About three, plus myself.”
“You wally – there’s 5 of them!”
“I could buy 3 scrolls and make a couple of trips? And maybe rest for a few hours whilst I was up there?”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“We can’t just leave them here.”
“Yes we could.”
“How about you teleport us up there and we could…”
“What about the captives?”
“But they’ll fill these caverns with zombies whilst we’re away!”
“So?”
“We can’t take a whole day out. We’d come back and this place would be empty.”

Grudgingly, the group as a whole agreed that we had to lead the unfortunate captives out of the caves and up to the surface. To do anything other would have been inhuman. 

An hour later, we returned. Igmut was rather morose, and glancing at him through my _Clair de Lunettes_ revealed why. Many of the dweomers and enchantments which had made the orc into a total killing machine were starting to wink out, and his 400 pound frame was somehow lessened by their loss.

.oOo.

Taking the second exit from the cavern which had been occupied by the clutch of drow, we entered a slightly larger chamber, lined with dark rock and whose floor was smooth and glossy. Square in the centre of the room was a 10 foot wide purple symbol of tentacles. 

As we looked around the room, I raised my _lunettes_ to my eyes again, and auras sprung up around the room. The huge symbol on the floor was revealed to be illusory in nature, and also there was a tight knot of magic centred on a point high on one wall. I passed the spectacles to Endo, who identified the knot as being the key to a powerful _Symbol_ spell – a complex magical trap.

Before he could elucidate any further, Flynne was already scrambling up the wall. Once up there, he traced the shape of the Symbol with his finger before pulling out some tools. Still hanging onto the wall as he worked, I was amazed to watch the enchantments flicker and then fail as Flynne passed his hands rapidly over it.

As it failed, so did something in one wall, which then cracked open and revealed an entrance. We took it.

.oOo.

Within, the cave reverted to nature. Several tall craggy stalagmites stretched towards the ceiling, with matching stalactites dangling from the tall ceiling. The natural aspect to the dripping cave ended on one wall, however, where two tall purple-veined white marble columns stretched from floor to ceiling, topped with a ring of the same tentacular sigils. A tall set of double doors made from the same material stood between the two columns. 

Seeing nothing untoward in the room, Flynne moved towards the doors, reaching for his lockpicking tools. As he closed on the marble, however, a series of terrifyingly long claw-topped tentacles shot out from the shadows behind three of the stalagmites, slashing and stabbing at the elf quite brutally. One of the creatures emerged from the shadows, with two of the long tentacle-claws latched deeply into Flynne’s flesh and the long limbs flexed. There was an awful tearing sound as blood welled up and Flynne screamed loudly, before being tossed to one side by the creature. 

Gamely, Flynne drew his sword, and used it as a crutch to lift himself back to his feet and face the monstrosities which had attacked him. Each of the three had a fleshy bulbous body supported by 4 thin tentacles, with two tremendously long tentacles flailing around in the air around them. The creatures used these much longer and stronger claw-tipped tentacles to attack targets which they picked out with their bulbous star-pupilled single eyes. 

Flynne swung his sword and clipped the nearest creature, which turned to face him, and blinked. Suddenly, Flynne began to move as though immersed in water – reacting sluggishly towards further threats which were all around him, as he was struck incredibly badly by yet another of the tentacled creatures. 

The third blinked its star-shaped eye at Igmut, and he also started to move more slowly, and was immediately passed by Sheba who tore into one of the creatures, clawing and biting the soft flesh with ease before Malachite stepped up to her side and stabbed his scimitar through the eyeball. Spilling vile liquids across the floor, the creature slumped, fell, and deflated.

Igmut scythed his greatsword into the form of a second, carving a deep wound into the body of the thing before Flynne stepped up behind it, his sword moving slowly, but with pinpoint accuracy, into the centre of the creature. The body split wide under the twin assault, and it also collapsed to the floor.

The surviving creature dealt an appalling series of slashing, tearing and rending injuries to Malachite, who backed away as a wand-shot from Endo went wild over his head. Sheba dived towards the last foe, the one which had hurt her master and simply tore it limb from rubbery limb.

Pulling out wands, Igmut, Malachite and I pulled out our wands and turned to curing the many injuries suffered by the group, whilst Flynne checked the door, declaring it not to be locked, but to clearly be barred from the other side. Placing his ear to the marble, he also said that he could hear a pulsing, humming sound from the other side of the doorway.

.oOo.

Once everyone was healed, Igmut, Sheba and Flynne threw themselves physically at the door, whilst Endo used a stick of chalk to indicate where they should be directing their blows. The first rush, they slammed noisily into the door, and collapsed in a heap at the foot of the heavy marble. 

Undiminished, they turned and ran at the door a second time, and there was a loud cracking noise as both doors flew open to show a massive circular chamber, with a set of stairs to one side. Standing on a pedestal in the centre of the room was a ten foot wide _brain_, formed of the same marble as the doors, the veins of purple within the rock throbbing with vibrant power. Spaced evenly around the room were 4 benches, set with manacles. 

As they stared at the monstrous stone brain, first Igmut and then Malachite clutched their hands to their heads, shouting in pain and frustration as something tried to control their minds.

“Me smash brain!” Igmut moved swiftly, raising a morningstar and bringing it down full-force onto the stone, chipping a few small flakes of marble onto the floor. Sheba and Manachite ran up to join him, but their weapons simply slid off the stone with a series of scraping and clinking noises. As I started up a song of encouragement, and Flynne’s arrows bounced off the stone surface, Malachite paused for a second, and cast a simple spell.

Abruptly, the humming noise stopped. Malachite touched the stone, which seemed to liquefy for a second, and then reshape itself into a tall angular block of stone, pierced through with a series of deep fist-sized holes. Malachite had literally turned the vile and psionic stone brain into a ten foot tall block of swiss cheese. He grinned, and we turned to the stairs.

.oOo.

At the top of the stairs was an oddly-shaped chamber, roughly in a semicircle. We ascended to one of the corners, and stairs continued up at the far side. On the flat surface was a stone door, whilst facing it was a truly colossal glass tank filled with a thick green liquid. The walls were dotted with bookcases and a paper-covered desk, which we turned to look at first. 

The papers (written in Undercommon), detailed the steps undertaken to create the ‘Octopin’ monsters – the bulbous tentacular monstrosities which we had defeated downstairs. It was clear that their creator had also been working on their improvement by making a larger, tougher specimen. This creator, who called himself “Zyrxog”, had also been tinkering with a species of worm which could burrow into a target to make them more suggestible. These, he called “Mind Worms”. 

Suddenly, with no apparent cause, the glass tank shattered, sending a wave of thick green liquid pouring across the floor, and a truly titanic Octopin smashed its way through the remaining shards of glass. Instinctively, Flynne turned and fired two shots into the creature, although it managed to smash a 2 foot long claw across his temple as he did so. Endo cast a spell from a wand, missing the monstrosity, before it positively savaged Flynne, dealing him a titanic series of slashes and tears. Flynne just barely managed to stay on his feet. 

Stepping forwards, Igmut swung a series of powerful blows with his greatsword, but the sword simply bounced off a heavily armoured and rubbery body. 

I cast a swift spell and began to sing encouragement at the others, as Sheba dashed in to the fray. As she leapt forwards, she was badly injured by the creature’s backswing, but managed to claw several deep gashes into its body. It screamed in alien rage, and glared at her in anger. Around the monster, Malachite began to speak the words of a spell, whilst Flynne dashed away to the foot of the stairs leading upwards and quaffed a potion which repaired some of the appalling damage to his thin frame. 

Triggering a wand, Endo managed to surround the thing in a cloud of screaming and tearing spirits, but to no avail, as the creature unleashed all of its fury on Sheba. 4, then 4 blows landed, shredding through the brave tiger’s fur, and exposing organs and bones beneath. Dead in an instant, Sheba dropped to the floor.

“Nooooo!” wailed Malachite, a mad fury blazing in his eyes.

“For the glory of Kord,” bellowed Igmut, whose greatsword drove down in a blur of enchanted strength and speed. A gout of ichor sprayed into the air, and then the half-orc swung again, hacking through the creature’s mid-section as though it were the thinnest eggshell. It buckled, and collapsed before us.

.oOo.

Malachite was inconsolable. Breaking up the furniture and piling it upon Sheba’s body as though he intended to start a funeral pyre that instant, all the while glaring at Endo and muttering that “he mustn’t get her”. We spent several minutes trying to console him, without success, but we did manage to persuade him that we would carry the body of the tiger out when we were done, so that she could be buried properly.

.oOo.

Drinking a potion, Flynne checked the stone door with enchanted vision, and opened it. Beyond lay a small room with a pool of water standing between utterly bare stone walls. 

Moving in, we noticed a strange reflection from the water, and stood closer, our mouths falling open at the sight. Within, we could see a large chamber, whose floor was decorated with a series of octagonal symbols. At the centre lay a deep pool of green liquid. Floating above the pool was a staff-wielding illithid.

I scrutinised the pool, using the _Clair de Lunettes_ as I did so, and the image exploded with a dozen different auras. His boots, cloak, necklace, ring and several other items glowed with the power of a series of enchantments, but these were utterly overshadowed by the power radiating from the staff. The apparently simple length of wood resounded to my eyes with a series of auras of several types so bright that I had to snatch the glasses off my head rather than continue to look at it. 

.oOo.

Realising that there was little else to do, and that the illithid may well be preparing something even more terrible from this last pool of green liquid, we headed out of this small room (after another lengthy argument about whether to rest at this point). At the top of the stairs, two large doors blocked our passage, until Flynne managed to open them.

At this point, still muttering in words I didn’t understand, Malachite’s form blurred and he assumed the shape of a large tiger, apparently in honour of his fallen companion. 

This latest circular room contained a tall ebony statue of a winged, vulture headed monster, the spitting likeness of a vrock demon, as well as a series of large glass cases. Within these cases were a number of severed body parts and relics, apparently souvenirs of the owner’s adventures and travels. A preserved head of a black dragon stood alone in one case, whilst opposite it was a dark-coloured dagger resting on a cushion. A battered sword was in another case, near a small bronze statue of a griffon. Finally, most disconcertingly, there was a foot-tall doll littered with pins, which seemed to have a near-perfect likeness of Malachite, and appeared, at least to my eyes, to have the aura of necromantic magic to it. 

Bellowing, Igmut ran in, making a beeline for the black statue, which instantly gained a good deal of colour and movement as it turned to face him. Flynne and I fired our weapons, whilst I started to chant. Tiger-Malachite dashed into the room, and the creature swiped at him, leaving some kind of spore in his flesh. 

Endo cast once, and then immediately again, using the last charge from his Rod of Quickening for that day, but neither spell had any effect on the demon. In response, it burst outwards, and the room suddenly appeared to be filled with 9 of the creatures, all weaving in and out of one another and filling the area with still more spores. 

I fired my crossbow, which flew true and struck one of the creatures in the chest, and it vanished in an instant, before Flynne plied his bow, and three more of the spectral images vanished in a series of accurate shots. 

Laying about himself with claws and teeth, Malachite was not as fortunate; he managed to vanquish one of the false images, before missing a second. His teeth clamped shut over the arm of the real thing, but it merely shook him off, before slashing at him with its own claws and a razor-edged beak. Igmut’s sword swept through the last of the images, dispelling one before carving through another.

I snatched a vial from Endo’s outstretched hand, and ran to pour its contents over Malachite, which seemed to cause the spores to shrivel up and drop off, whilst behind me Flynne’s arrows struck heavily into the creature’s body. Malachite leapt up, clawing at the vrock, and brought it to the floor, where Endo struck it with a spell of enfeeblement, which failed to take purchase on the feathered fiend, but then Igmut, grown to twice his normal height through some spell Kord had granted him, struck down on the fiend which was being held to the ground at his feet.

With an almighty blow, he cleaved the head of the monster right off its shoulders, and the beaked head half bounced, half rolled away through the room, trailing ichor as it went.

I reached up to pat him on the arm. 

“That’ll do, Ig. That’ll do.”


----------



## Eccles

Short addition by Malachite's player: Sheba's tale.

.oOo.

When i was little i had two brothers and a sister .  Little runt was too small to fight us so when mother brought food he never got any and after a ferw days he stopped moving.  The rest of us played and ate and grew and followed mother hunting.  She taught us to stalk and to pounce and to chase and to kill.  Then the men came and killed mother.  We ran away but they threw nets at us and my legs wouldn't run any more.  Then they took us to a big cage where we ate very little.  I got bigger than the others and the men used to make me stand by a fire and they hit me with whips.  I stood as long as i could and then to escape ran through the fire.  They stopped hitting me for a few days and then they would do it again.  Sometimes there would be lots of other people while they did this, but only a few would hit me.  

After the cold had come and gone as many times as i have paws a man came and talked to me.  None of them had ever done this before.  I liked Green.  Green came back with another man and i decided i would like to go with him.  

He lived in a building with a big fire and lots of food.  I liked to lie by the fire and people would give me food and no-one hit me with a whip.  Green had four friends - talky, make pain go, creepy and arrows.  Talky didn't smell like his shape but he was Green's friend so i liked him.

One day a man attacked Green so i leapt at him.  I was going to rip his throat open, but i could sense Green didn't want him dead, so i just flattened him so he wouldn't attack Green any more.  Then he cut me very deep with metal and Green wanted me to leave so i did.  Then make pain go made me better with a stick.

A few days after that Green and his friends went for a long walk at night and i decided to go with them to make sure Green was all right.  Lots of things tried to hurt Green so i killed them.  Some of them hid in the open so i sniffed where they were and killed them.  For some reason none of the others sniffed them out.  Talky fell in some water and didn't come out for ages.  When he did he was his real shape and wasn't moving anymore.

A little later lots of people who weren't their own shape attacked Green so i killed them.  Green made a new friend called Song Man.  I liked Song Man.  When he sang i thought of mother and what the men had done to her and it made me want to kill the things that attacked Green even more.

Often when i killed the things that attacked Green and his friends i would get hurt, but Green and Makes Pain Go and Song Man would make me fell better my pointing at me with sticks.

Then one day something with very long arms was trying to kill arrows so i tried to kill it.  While i was ripping at it with my claws i couldn't feel my legs and then everything went dark for a long time.


----------



## Eccles

Reaching the top of the stairs, we paused a short distance away as Flynne produced his tools and ran his hands over the massive stone door. Abruptly, there was a huge red-hot explosion which blossomed from inches away from his nose. A scream tore through the air, as we witnessed Flynne, hair ablaze, hurtling backwards across the room before he slammed into the wall.

Igmut slapped out the flames, and then he, Malachite and I produced wands which we tapped to his scorched flesh to restore him to full health before pushing him back towards the door.

A few seconds later, and he was finished. The door at the top of the stairs opened into a grand chamber, 80 feet in height. The far side of the circular room was marked by a colossal jet-black octagonal inscribed with jagged runes. At the foot of this monolith was a green-coloured pool. Perhaps 50 feet above the pool floated the dark-cloaked creature, which turned its rubbery purplish tentacled face towards us.

“You dare enter my sanctum?” The creature’s voice rang out both in the air and in all of our minds. “Fools! I shall finish what Talakin could not. Your weak minds will be a sumptuous feast, your terror a pleasing garnish!”

The creature gestured, and from either side of him there came a pair of twanging sounds as unseen assailants fired crossbow bolts at both Flynne, who was silhouetted in the doorway, as well as at Igmut’s bulky form just behind his shoulder. Clearly, the two drow who had escaped us some hours ago had fled back to their master and would also have to be dealt with.

Before we could spring into action, however, the illithid’s gestures became more precise, and it chanted briefly, sending a tremendous bolt of lightning surging through us all, causing our limbs to jerk and spasm as the electricity crackled between us, leaving almost all of us badly hurt. All of us except Flynne, who had avoided the bolt by taking cover behind the stone doors.

Endo moved up to the doorway quickly, casting a spell which sent Igmut spiralling into the air on unseen wings. Igmut therefore flew across the threshold into the room towards the illithid, but as he did so he was struck from both sides by familiar-looking claw-tipped tentacles.

Singing, I tossed down the statuette of the bronze griffon we had found in the preceding room, which burst outwards and took flight up and off towards the side of the room, where I could hear it clawing at one of the two drow archers atop a high pillar. 

Suddenly, the tentacled octopins acted again, and a series of tentacles lashed down again and again, grabbing and tearing at Endo who stood in the doorway. They snatched and shredded his already lightning-seared form, before two claws from each side latched onto his body and each pulled at him. There was a bloody tug-of-war between the two creatures, as they fought over the bloody, screaming rag which had so recently been my friend. Abruptly, the screaming stopped, and his body was simply torn in two and dropped to the floor in a bloodied pile of damaged limbs and exposed viscera.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

2 Short updates = 1 big update!

That was nicely written there Mr Eccles, think you caught the wear you down + unpleasant nature of that place neatly!

Dead Sheeba.

Empowered Lightning bolts.

Enough tentacles to upset a Lovecraft fan.

Dead Endo.

Mortal Peril!

What a cliffhanger.


----------



## Tamlyn

Poor necromancer! He never had a chance. So, is there another brother of Morgan and Endo waiting in the wings?


----------



## Darmanicus

I'm afraid that's it for the brothers Grim.

I don't think mom's gonna take the news too well though.............


----------



## Eccles

Up in the sky, face to face with the screaming Igmut, the illithid floated backwards slightly. The four thick-set tentacles squirmed in unison, and overhead I could see the air ripple slightly under some strange psionic pulse. As the ripple moved, the top of the green pond pulsed in sympathy. Dust flew through the air, whilst banners hanging from the wall flapped in the energies, but Igmut didn’t so much as twitch.

Malachite, meanwhile, was near me still in the form of a tiger. He pawed at a potion bottle which Igmut had left on the floor, and lapped at the spilled liquid – abruptly he dashed into the room and ran up the wall to the right side, towards the second drow archer. 

In front of Flynne and myself, the two octopins dropped from the wall, lashing out at my elven friend and I, causing us both to scream in agony at the terrifying claw-wounds.

As more lightning flew overhead, blasting through Igmut’s heavy armour and dealing him serious wounds despite his avoiding the worst of the bolt. The heavy-set orc simply moved forwards grimly, slashing repeatedly with his sword as he tried to back the flying illithid against the walls. Dark blood seeped from a number of wounds, but many of Igmut’s blows slashed through illusionary effects which shrouded the creature making it appear to be subtly out-of-place. 

Back on the ground, I shouted a suggestion to Flynne, who held back his assault whilst I dived through the forest of snapping claw-tipped tentacles to the far side of the closest beast and stabbed at it with my rapier. With the creature distracted, Flynne stepped forwards, and thrust his longsword with deadly pinpoint accuracy. Seeping ichor from terrible injuries, it sagged and collapsed to the ground. 

Behind me, there was a crash of an armoured drow falling to the floor, followed by Malachite’s roar of triumph. Meanwhile, squealing shrilly at the loss of its mate, the remaining octopin lashed out savagely at Flynne, gripping him with both claws and trying its best to tear off his arm at the shoulder.

Meanwhile, the echoes of Malachite’s triumphant roar were joined by the savage shrieks of the bronze griffon which continued its assault on the second drow warrior, who was now hacking back at it with its long thing sword. A third voice was raised in fury, as Igmut entered his warrior’s frenzy, hacking deep wounds into the Illithid before it floated backwards against the wall and cast a familiar looking spell – a dark ray struck the half orc and drained him of much of his fury-borne strength in an instant. This didn’t stop Igmut from moving forwards and hacking once more.

Back on the ground, Flynne and I repeated our ploy against the second octopin, as I ducked and weaved through its weaving limbs to distract it – whilst Flynne’s blows were viciously perfect in their accuracy, my rapier glanced off its rubbery hide.

Malachite, still in tiger-form, ran around the room – his paws clinging to the wall with the power of Igmut’s potion as he went. When he reached the dark stone column, he roared once again in pain, as black energies cracked around him, but he leapt from the column to cling to the wall several feet above the illithid.

Whilst the octopin slashed Flynne across his already-wounded shoulder, the illithid plummeted 20 feet towards the floor, ducking away from Igmut’s sword-swing as it fell before looking up and sending another pulse of energies up towards both Igmut and tiger-Malachite. Malachite seemed to simply blink off the effect of the vicious energies whirling around him, whilst Igmut seemed to have a harder time of it, clutching his greatsword and muttering ‘Kord’ through gritted teeth as he shook off the psionic effect.

Screeching all the while, the griffon managed to slash the second drow, dealing enough injuries to drop the archer off his tower to crash to the floor in a shower of weapons, armour and deep blue coloured skin. 

Igmut’s sword swung triumphantly downwards, sensing weakness in the now-panicked illithid, but the blow scythed through the protective illusion, not the illithid itself. 

I managed to dispatch the octopin with a lunge and a twist, taking the point of my drow-wrought sword through its single eye. Suddenly free from this threat, Flynne snatched up his bow and fired a pair of arrows, one of which went wide, but he second sank to the fletchings between the illithid’s dark eyes. Sagging, the monster released its grip on the enchanted rod, and hung limply in the air, dead.

.oOo.

We all paused for almost a full minute, deeply relieved that we hadn’t all been slaughtered as swiftly as Endo. Catching our breath, however, we then turned, and Malachite, Igmut and I used dozens of charges of wands to heal our many serious injuries. I had to discard one of mine in disgust as it was exhausted, and borrowed a second from Igmut. 

Whilst Flynne snatched up a key from the body of the illithid and examined the small door which stood at the foot of the column, Malachite turned to destroying a colony of tiny purple tadpoles he found swimming in the green pond. I helped Igmut piece Endo together, then sat to one side of the room with a quill and Endo’s spellbook, where I penned a short masterpiece in remembrance of the mage, at the foot of the two similar passages in memory of his brother Morgan. 

.oOo.

When I had finished, Flynne had not only managed to pick his way into a small room containing bookshelves, a desk and a small chest, which he opened with the captured key. 

On the book lay a heavy ledger of sales and purchases penned in undercommon. Most recently, I saw a passage which detailed a contract having been taken out to kill a group of adventurers which plainly detailed my friends and myself. 

Since then, the illithid had sold something called the “Apostolic Scrolls” to one Lauris Racnian, the Director of the Free City’s Arena.


----------



## Eccles

Blinking, we emerged into the light of the streets. As we looked around (and I swiftly cast a minor spell to scrape the muck and stench from my clothes), we caught sight of a young man dashing past us clutching a bag of parchment scrolls and a hammer. As we watched, he withdrew one of the scrolls, and with practised movements he banged two nails into it, fastening it to the side of a nearby house. 

Curious, we approached and read.

“The Free City Champion’s Games are Coming,” screamed the bold text at the top, before detailing that the games were due to be held in a little over 2 weeks, and were being run by a very familiar name – Lauris Racnian, the man who had not only bought a good deal from an illithid, but also appeared to have been the man who had paid money to have us all killed. 

And we hadn’t even met him. Yet.


----------



## Eccles

We returned, briefly, to an inn for a hearty meal and a series of baths. The next morning, I carried out a good deal of shopping, selling much of the captured drow equipment and passing round huge bags of cash to my comrades. Gleefully, Flynne suggested that we rent a mansion, and I achieved not only this, but also managed to hire an experienced staff by the end of the afternoon. By evening, we were ensconced in a well-appointed drawing room, snifters of brandy being passed around by the hired butler Gerald, whilst servants tidied away the remnants of a massive meal prepared by our hired cook. 

Whilst Flynne and I had been shopping, Malachite and Igmut had been busy as well – huge amounts of gold were invested in gems and ointments, and when the sun rose to its zenith, my druidic comrade carried out a complex ritual over the savagely damaged wizard, chanting and coaxing new life into his bones. Subtly, the light changed as it danced over the body, and injuries knitted themselves together. His body twisted in the healing, however, and the sun began to glint differently off his flesh as it changed colour.

When the Endo sat up once again, he looked down at the muscular green fingers of his new half-orc body. He grinned a toothy wide-jawed smile.

“Excellent,” he announced. “This is going to _kill _my mother…”

Sheba yawned in agreement, a slight limp the only sign that she had also been resurrected by a priest only hours before.


----------



## Eccles

After dinner, we received an invitation from Eligos, and visited him the next day for lunch, where he announced that he had finished his investigations into the various matters we had asked him about. 

Whilst Endo the orc satisfied his newfound base instincts by cramming canapés into his mouth by the dozen, Eligos explained that the ‘Talisman of the Sphere’ which we had found in the sarcophagus of the air-lord was inactive. 

He also explained what he had learned from Theldrick’s captured journal and the preserved worm – they all harkened back to the figure of ‘Kyuss’, a lesser deity of the undead, whose cult was expanding. 

His researches indicated that the cult had been enveloped by the Ebon Triad, absorbing its teachings of the End of Days into their own beliefs.

“The teachings of Kyuss,” he went on, “are set out in a number of fabled documents, such as the Necronomicon or the Apostolic Scrolls. These scrolls were reputedly penned by Kyuss himself, and detail the creation of a great worm-like entity, which could simply snatch up living beings and swallow them before vomiting them back up as the undead.”

We were terrified by the possibility of such a set of documents having fallen into the hands of someone who was actively trying to kill us, and said so to Eligos. He, however, was swift to disabuse us of the idea of striking at Racnian, who was wealthy and popular within the Free City, and we would likely find ourselves captured and facing charges within an alarmingly short period. 

Instead, the mage mad a different suggestion – that we join the Games as a team of champions, with a view to getting close to Racnian and possibly both confronting him and recovering the scrolls. 

To that end, he put us in touch with his comrade Celeste, who met us at our mansion the next day with a friend of hers, who explained that he could sponsor us as a team within the arena. I managed to negotiate his suggested 80:20 deal (in his favour) to a more reasonable 70:30 ration (in ours), and we received the rules to the area combats, as well as signing a contract.

“The Rough Diamonds” (named from the town which many of us had grown up in) would fight in the arena, and the fate of the world would rest on our shoulders as we did so.


----------



## Eccles

...I've not written up the rules for the arena, as Morrus has them. Someone else can explain them, I reckon!


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Whilst Endo the orc satisfied his newfound base instincts by cramming canapés into his mouth by the doze.




Hi mom    

Geez, she aint gonna be happy.

Sorry Morrus......she is not going to be best pleased!


----------



## Darmanicus

To be honest, I was really not happy on Thursday. My 1st move got me killed and that was me for the session   

Sometimes you just have to hate the layout of an encounter. I had no idea the Octopins where there and coupled with an awesome lightning bolt just before they attacked me really didn't help.

I had so many plans for that fight and still a real decent repetoire of spells to cast   

Ah well, being an Orc aint too bad however the level loss sucks just after having gained a level   

I am now about 10k exp behind everone else roughly and not very happy   

I'm gonna stop feeling sorry for myself now   

Well maybe not........


----------



## Eccles

It was a bad day for Darmanicus. 

Run over that morning, killed in the evening, and then reduced to playing a griffon...

Oh, and then reduced even further to playing a half orc... (Sorry, Igmut!)


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Eccles said:
			
		

> It was a bad day for Darmanicus.
> 
> Run over that morning, killed in the evening, and then reduced to playing a griffon...
> 
> Oh, and then reduced even further to playing a half orc... (Sorry, Igmut!)




Really not a good day there. 


Nothing wrong with us half orcs!

Think Igmut will have to take Endo for a night out on the town. Cheer him up and teach him the (highly complicated) Way of the Half-Orc! Then we can start a bar fight.


----------



## Darmanicus

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> Really not a good day there.
> 
> 
> Nothing wrong with us half orcs!
> 
> Think Igmut will have to take Endo for a night out on the town. Cheer him up and teach him the (highly complicated) Way of the Half-Orc! Then we can start a bar fight.




Forgot about getting run over that morning   

But agreed, beer and brawling ftw.....WOOT!


----------



## Eccles

The following two weeks were fraught with activity. Between helping my friends spend their shares of the ill-gotten gains, I managed to find time to visit a number of coustumiers, meet with the nobility to discuss lizardmen in the swamp, and also to research and enchant a number of items for both myself and Malachite.

Visiting the Lords of the Free City was my priority; it being the very reason we had come in the first place. To my great surprise, I was granted an audience almost immediately. Having presented the intricately woven cloak which the lizardmen had given me, I explained their plight, and that war with the human lands was not something which the peace-loving lizardmen wanted. 

I spent some time explaining that the lizardmen had gathered under a war-loving leader, but that he had been slain by myself and my comrades. The nobles I spoke with did not seem to pay much heed to the possibility of there being a black dragon in the swamp; nor did they seem alarmed by the suggestion that both the lizardmen and others had been infected by some form of undead-worm. The message which they seemed to pick up, despite my best efforts, was that the lizardmen had succumbed to a serious outbreak of a disease. 

They finally agreed to send an envoy out into the swamps, to see if an accord could be reached as to the future stewardship of the swamp. To my immense frustration, when I had persuaded them into this course of action, and tried to turn their attentions to the goings-on within the city, an aide interrupted me with news that my time was up. Unfortunately, it would not be possible to obtain a further appointment for at least another fortnight. 

.oOo.

I had better luck with the outfitters. With the knowledge that we had negotiated our entry into the Free City Games, I spent a number of entertaining afternoons knocking on doors and speaking to well-dressed costumiers, explaining that I, “Euan the Vain” would be leading a team to great glory in the Games, and that I would be prepared to model their very finest work to the illumination of the populace.

Several of the more adventurous clothes makers were intrigued by this, but said that they wouldn’t be able to make a suitably hard-wearing demonstration piece in the two weeks they had available. They were delighted that I would not actually need them to do any work; they could simply announce that they were sponsoring me and explain their most creative and glorious ideas. To illustrate the point, I willed my hat of disguise to make my smart leather coat change colour and line in an instant.

Danniel Rainford was particularly taken by this idea, and he agreed that I could model his latest line in gentleman’s outfits. He and I spent an afternoon discussing designs before we settled on a handful of superb designs in silks and satins.

.oOo.

The remainder of my week was absorbed in a series of early mornings spent poring over a selection of expensive components; I had paid several enchanters around the time to make armour components for me, whilst I focussed on enchanting my lute and cloak, together with one special item which I unveiled towards the end of the fortnight. 

“Happy Birthday, Igmut!” This was announced as I passed the half-orc a gift-wrapped small package. He tore into the crepe paper to reveal a small stone scarab beetle, which glinted slightly in the light of the nearby lanterns. Grinning toothily, he pinned the item to his cloak, and we set out, fully equipped, to the Champions’ Arena.

.oOo.

Together with Ekaym, our new manager, we walked through the gates of the arena. We were amongst the first groups to arrive, although a group of axe-armed and heavily bearded dwarves stood near a number of massive casks of ale talking amongst themselves. As we were shown to our seats, I used my _hat of disguise_ to slightly alter my face and hair colour so that I was unlikely to be recognised as myself. 

We were seated at one of a number of long banquet tables in the centre of the arena. Because our team, “The Rough Diamonds”, were unheard of, we were quite some distance from the warming bonfires and entertainments, and our food was quite often cooling by the time it reached us. 

By 6, all of the other teams had entered the arena and found seats. We were surrounded by dozens of other races. Elves sat at the same table as humans and gnolls, whilst to one side of the arena, a dragon lay in the dwindling sunlight, as its belly scales were scrubbed and massaged by a team of kobold workers. 

The last of the teams to enter was that of Auric, the present champion. Wearing his gleaming belt, the warrior entered the arena to applause from the other teams. The man who we had once seen digging around in the ruins around Diamond Lake nodded to Flynne and Igmut as he walked in, flanked by his two comrades, clearly a wizard and an archer. The arena went silent as the three were followed by a trio of lumbering stone golems, which stomped their way into the arena to stand behind their owners.

“Better cover up that scarab, Igmut,” I muttered whilst trying to stifle a grin. 

.oOo.

 Racnian himself entered a few minutes later, to a loud burst of applause from all the competitors in the arena. He gave a short speech of welcome, before turning to Auric. 

Almost reluctantly, the champion unbuckled the heavy golden belt and passed it to Racnian, who passed the belt on in turn to a tall robed figure who he introduced to us as the arbiter, Talabir Relik who would be the final referee in the upcoming games. 

Shooing a toad from off his shoulder (and placing the beast carefully into a deep pocket), Relik explained the rules; chiefly concerning how to surrender and what might or might not lead to disqualification. Almost anything was permitted, however, as long as it did not damage any significant part of the arena, or threaten any of the audience. Even invisibility and flight would be allowed, according to the arbiter, as long as the flier did not go more than 40 feet above the floor of the arena. 

Once this was finished, Racnian stood once again, and announced “I name you all Champions. Champions of the Free City!”

After this, musicians began to play, whilst a colossal meal was served to all of the Champions and their managers. After gorging ourselves on excellently roasted meat ad fish, the champions began to mingle, discussing fighting styles and comparing scars and war stories. 

Whilst this was happening, a number of men with notebooks came around the tables, asking if any of the Champions wanted to bet on the various teams.

Looking over the closest man’s shoulder, I could see that we were ranked towards the bottom of the table, which meant that the odds against us were good, but not tremendous. Shifting my appearance briefly with the hat’s magic, I tapped the closest of these bookies on the shoulder, and pointed.

“You see that team over there,” I asked. “I hear they’re led by a fop, and that the best wizard they could afford is an _orc_!”

Wandering away, I changed my appearance once again.

“That tiger?” The next one turned to face me. “I heard that it died a fortnight ago, and the entire team had to team up to pool the resources to bring it back. They must be bankrupt!”

I told a third that we had no real front-line fighter, and a fourth that we had been adventuring for only a matter of weeks. By the time that I had changed back to the ‘Euan’ appearance and was standing ostensibly drunk at the barrels and the bookies’ notes had been covered with crossings out and corrections. We were now listed at the very bottom of the list, with the sheet offering 20 to 1 odds on our first bout. 

We all bet, with Flynne lending several hundred gold pieces to Malachite and Igmut so that they could place 250gp wagers that we would win as many rounds as possible.

When I returned to my seat, I peered around me through my magic-seeing spectacles. Almost without exception, all of the champions carried multiple enchanted items. Racnian surprised me, however, with the sheer number and power of the enchantments layered upon himself and his equipment. 

I also noted that Ekaym was staring determinedly at Raknian as well.

.oOo.

The meal ended with a series of dramatic fireworks and dancing girls, both of which finished in a frenzied crescendo. Into the silence, Raknian shouted,

“The Champions Games have begun!”

“HUZZAH!” The crowd of champions cheered into the night.

.oOo.

We were led onto a large stone platform, which was winched down beneath the stadium floor into the underground area known as the Coenoby. We were led, together with the 100 or so other gladiators, into a cave network which was part natural, part manmade. A massive central cavern led off down several dozen passages, each consisting of a number of individual rooms dubbed a ‘lodge’. 

As we were led down, our guide calmly announced that one of the passages leading off to the south was blocked off – it used to be inhabited by ghouls which were driven off by Raknian, who then plugged the tunnel himself. Raknian himself had been the longstanding Champion of the Free City, retiring only when he was defeated by Auric.

We rested, due to fight the very next day.

.oOo.

The next morning, a horn sounded to indicate that the order of combat had been posted, and we sent Igmut to push his way through the crowd and find out when we were due to fight.

He returned clutching a copy of the fighting schedule, which stated that we were listed to fight at 10 in the morning, an early slot for a team which was accepted (by the bookies, at least) to be clear underdogs. The other teams were Arcane Auriga (a group of 4 haughty female elven archers); Badlands Revenge (3 halberd-wielding gnolls led by a wild-looking muscle bound druid); and the Sapphire Squad (a pair of scimitar-wielding mounted mercenaries led by a lesser djinn lord). 

Having sharpened our weapons and prepared the necessary spells for the forthcoming combat, we were left with little to do, so I spent the next hour or two chatting amiably with the others with whom we were drawn to fight. The elves all but turned their backs on me, talking amongst themselves in a rapid elven dialect which I could comfortably understand, but didn’t want to let them know.

The druid was also reluctant to talk much, snapping and snarling at me whenever I addressed either him or his gnolls, but the leader of the Sapphire Squad was more than comfortable to talk to any of us, even offering us training after the bout, should we wish it.

As a result, we were more than willing to suggest that he and we unite forces against the grumpy druid and grouchy elves, an offer which he seized with both hands.

At 10, another horn blew, and we were gathered into our teams and each group was stood on a 30 foot wide platform, winched slowly into place up to the arena, where Raknian stood. Acting as announcer, he called to the immense crowd which surrounded us, crying out about the deadly precision of Arcane Auriga, the savagery of the Badlands Revenge team, and the mounted lethality of the Sapphire Squad. When it came to us, there was a perceptible hesitation before he shouted… “And the naïve courage of The Rough Diamonds!” as the heavy platform rose into place in the noise-filled arena.

.oOo.

The sun beat down on the 100 foot wide sandy space, ringed by row upon row of seating atop a high wall. Looking down upon us were thousands of cheering faces, and jeering, shouting, and baying for blood. In each corner of the massive space stood one of the teams, listening as Raknian bellowed out the rules for this particular bout.

“Each team will stay in their starting positions for 18 drum beats,” he announced. “In that time, they will not advance or attack in any way whatsoever. Any spells of preparation to be cast will be cast in that time. On the 18th drum beat, a horn will be sounded, and combat will commence!”

Using the powers of a spell, Raknian rose into the air and off to his seat amongst a number of wealthy people up in the audience. Once he was seated, a heavy drum began to beat out a slow tempo.

It had begun!


----------



## Firedancer

damn you Eccles, what a place to stop!


----------



## Darmanicus

Firedancer said:
			
		

> damn you Eccles, what a place to stop!




Yeah, he's a git aint he?


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> “You see that team over there,” I asked. “I hear they’re led by a fop, and that the best wizard they could afford is an _orc_!”




And that was very nearly my coffee all over my monitor!


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> And that was very nearly my coffee all over my monitor!




Made me giggle too. 

A fine and epic writeup there Mr Eccles!

Did like the teams for the arena, cool mix of different stuff in there, a good way to go!


----------



## Eccles

Bedecked in illusory silks and satins, I fumbled with the strap for my lyre, and began singing a popular chant. Within a few moments, dozens of audience members were stamping their feet and clapping. My encouraging chant was picked up by the audience, and as they started to encourage my comrades, I changed my own tune in counterpoint to the melody, giving Igmut and Sheba still more confidence and enthusiasm for what was to come.

Igmut layered enchantment after enchantment upon himself, and as he finally asked Kord to bless us all in the combat, I cast a final spell to _hasten_ us all. As this was going on, Endo cast his own spells of empowerment, wreathing his lumpen orcish body with spectral enchantments as well as making arrows and crossbow bolts for himself, Flynne and I burst into flame. Meanwhile, Flynne poured two potions down Sheba’s throat (first turning her skin a bark pattern, and then making her fade from sight completely), and then he tossed down the bronze griffon statue. As the griffon swelled into being, Malachite’s pair of summoned wolverines materialised; he followed this with a couple of spells of his own, strengthening himself and then calling up threatening stormclouds to float low over the arena, rumbling with ominous thunder.

Looking up, as my song, the crowd and the drumbeats echoed out over the arena, I could see that Reneda the lead elf had drunk a potion at the same time as her followers, and then plainly cast a spell – 6 identical visions of the elf weaved in and out of one another in a confusing pattern. 

Each of the gnolls also drank 2 potions, clearly enhancing their aggression and strengthening them, whilst their leader cast a sequence of spells and summoned a badger to aid him. On the far side of the arena, Khoresh the djinn and his two human mercenaries mounted their heavy warhorses and drew their curved weapons, just in time for the horn to ring out over the stadium.

.oOo.

Acting almost quicker than my eye could follow, Reneda had briefly saluted to the gnolls (and to my horror they saluted back), before raising her bow to eye level and firing a positive barrage of arrows, one of which managed to drive past Igmut’s heavy armour and leave an enchanted, frost-rimed wound under the edge of his breastplate. 

As if in response, Sheba suddenly materialised from her invisibility right next to one of Reneda’s elven archers ripping and tearing with her claws and teeth and killing the unfortunate elf sending her look of sudden surprise into bloodstained horror before a death-rictus and she stiffened and fell. Lightning crashed down from the shadowed sky, as wolverines leapt towards one of the other elves.

Khoresh the djinn rode towards the gnolls, slashing one across the chest with his glowing scimitar. Sheba and one of the wolverines were both struck with arrows, but shook off the damage and kept on snapping at the retreating elven women. At the same instant, Igmut dashed across to the gnolls to engage them in combat, driving his longspear across the man’s chest with all of his (much enhanced) strength. 

The human snarled, and simply dropped his heavy club and changing – his face lengthened and warped, as his body changed. Snarling with fury, he faced Igmut as a snapping, enraged crocodile. 

In response, as I started another song of inspiration, something heavy and dark flew out of the crowd and landed on my head. I pulled off the sweaty material and waved it in the air as a trophy.

“Up the orcs!” was all I could think to yell in surprise to my apparent admirer, whose green toothy grin beamed down at me from the stands.

I repressed my instinctive shudder.

For his part, Endo cast rapidly, stripping the elven woman of many of her protections; the many images of her disappearing in an instant, whilst the mounted mercenaries rode towards us drawing bows before firing shots towards both elves and gnolls. The dog-faced halberdiers ran towards Igmut, whose spear danced and spun, plunging into them repeatedly as they closed on him. Although badly wounded, they slashed back at him, and although one missed, the others managed to tear through much of Igmut’s protection and the first of his blood spattered to the sand. 

.oOo.

From his position atop the bronze griffon, Flynne flew towards the elves, leaping off at the last moment to roll and land neatly, bow pointed towards the closest elf, his arrow streaking into Reneda, followed closely by the shrieking griffon which scratched and clawed at her. The elf looked panicked, and dived away from the massive metal beast before casting a spell at Sheba – a dark line struck the tiger and sapped her of much of her strength. 

Sheba responded by slamming into another of the elven followers; although nothing like as strong, she was still more than deadly enough to despatch this archer in turn. Meanwhile, a few dozen feet away, one of the wolverines dashed in and bit Reneda, whilst the other sank its teeth into the surviving elven archer, who was also struck by yet more lightning crashing from the sky at Malachite’s insistence. 

On the other side of the arena, Khoresh called out his intention to cast a spell on Sheba, and rode over to her. Growling, Sheba shook off the spell.

“I thought that we were to be allied,” exclaimed the djinn in irritable confusion.

The surviving elf slashed at the wolverine which had bitten her, and swore in elven as her blow went wide of the mark.

Not so for Igmut, who was hastened, inspired, and enchanted beyond all recognition, Igmut stepped away from his foes and slashed a wide arc with the blade of his longspear. The blow slashed through the throat of the first gnoll, which dropped to the floor in a burbling heap; his spear then tore nearly a foot through the second gnoll’s armoured chest. Igmut pulled the spear free, and to tumultuous applause from the bloodthirsty crowd, he stabbed the weapon into the badger, impaling it into the ground. As the summoned creature faded from sight, Igmut left the spear impaled in the sand and ripped his greatsword from its scabbard on his back.

I took this instant to cast a spell upon myself, making myself appear to be about two feet away from my real position, whilst Igmut was attacked in turn by the raging crocodile; the jaws locked shut around Igmut’s forearm, but he clamped his free hand onto its upper jaw and pulled the beast’s mouth open to free himself.

Near me, I saw Endo hesitate, and then focus his attention on the two horsemen in the centre of the stadium; clearly waiting for them to do something. It clearly wasn’t for them to charge Flynne, which they did; one of them slashing my elven comrade across the shoulder. 

One last gnoll swung at Igmut, but he missed.

.oOo.

Khoresh, pointing his scimitar at Flynne and spurring his horse, was surprised when he was suddenly assaulted by the griffon, biting and clawing at him. He weathered this assault, but then realised that he was riding into the face of Flynne’s arrows. Firing and reaching again for more arrows before firing again, Flynne paused. Khoresh paused two, arrows deeply stuck into his chest and head, before very gently sliding off his horse, stone dead.

.oOo.

Abruptly, there was a clanking and grinding noise – a series of walls rose out of the floor, dividing the arena into quarters, whilst the floor dropped out from under the points at which we had started. There was a cry of alarm from behind me as Malachite dropped into one of these spike-lined pits. Endo, to my left, swore as his intended target was shrouded by one of these large wooden walls, which easily rose to 40 feet in height; so high that we couldn’t climb over them without disqualifying ourselves.

At the far side of the arena, Igmut also shouted in annoyance as he was unceremoniously dropped into one of these pits alongside the surviving gnoll, leaving Endo and I facing the raging crocodile. We both swallowed deeply. 

Beyond the wall, there was the snarling, snapping noise of a number of wild beasts savaging elves, as Malachite soared out of the pit in the form of a graceful eagle. 


A wet gurgling sound emanated from the pit as Igmut despatched the ‘distraction’ so that he could start climbing uninterrupted. 

.oOo.

Rather worried, I fired a shot with my crossbow, scoring a fiery hit on the beast which barely seemed to even feel the enchanted shot. It then hurtled across the sand towards me, its jaws slamming fast about eighteen inches to my left – precisely where my illusory double was standing.

To my side, Endo simply took flight, casting a spell down towards the enraged crocodile-man draining my foe of much strength. Above the sound of Endo’s spellcasting, I could hear Flynne’s bow sing several times, and the sound of another man falling off his horse, whilst the bronze griffon screeched in a strangely mechanical voice.

Suddenly, the walls sank back down into the floor, and I could glimpse Sheba beset by foes, and Flynne clutching his bow and surrounded by dead enemies. Just as I could see Igmut’s hand reach the top of his pit, the walls sprang up in different places, blocking him completely from my sight. I swore, and Malachite, who was also locked into this new partition with the reptilian rager, screamed out a spell from his place hovering in the sky. Freezing winds tore around the crocodile as heavy balls of ice slammed around him and beating at him.

As I looked around and realised I had no escape route, I pondered leaping into the spike-lined pit behind me to escape the creature; then I heard Igmut’s greatsword slam into the wall. A single titanic blow tore a gap easily eight feet from top to bottom, and Igmut was framed in the hole, spattered with the blood of many foes and grinning toothily as he yelled abuse at the crocodile-fighter.

Stapping at the reptile once, I leaped away from the snapping jaws to stand next to Igmut. The crocodile hurtled after me, and its jaws snapped, slamming shut on my leg. As I fell, I reached up behind me and tapped Igmut on the leg.

“Tag,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “You’re it.”

I shut my eyes in pain, but could still hear the sound of Endo’s crossbow clicking from behind Igmut, and a series of bowfire from Flynne beyond the wooden wall – several arrows slamming into the wood having clearly torn through yet another target, and heralding the defeat of the elven bow-women. Her leader, Reneda, could dimly be heard to yell “I surrender”, and Malachite screeched out some instruction to Sheba. 

Igmut’s sword hacked down four times, and the pressure on my leg was eased when the beast was suddenly slaughtered. 5 roughly equal sized chunks of crocodile littered the floor around me, and I was positively covered in its blood.

The wooden walls sank once more, and I could see the cheering crowd all around me. Not a single enemy was still standing as Racnian stepped down form his seats to announce us the winners. We were summoned up to meet with him (as we walked I took a moment to cast spells to clean myself and heal the worst of my injuries), and he handed me not only a sack of gold, but also a bronze trophy. I turned, and raised our prize to the screaming crowd.

.oOo.

By the afternoon, other winners returned to the cavern complex. The dragon and its team of kobolds were victorious, as (of course) was Auric and his team of stone golems. ‘The Crazy Eight’; a group of 8 monks won their round, as had a ‘Rauth’s Dragoons’ – a military unit of 7 men and ‘Pitch Blade’; a group of 4 heavily equipped axe-wielding dwarven berserkers.

The announcers came to advise us that the rest of the day and the next day were to be used to recuperate. The very next fight that we were to have was against ‘Pitch Blade’, the four dwarves – trained and equipped by Raknian’s own Chief of Security, they were likely to be clear favourites in the next fight, and would have a considerable ‘home field’ advantage.

.oOo.

In the afternoon, we were also allowed to meet with Akame, our manager. He finally explained to us why he had been so intent in staring at Raknian during the opening sequence. He admitted that he was simply using us as an excuse to get close to the Games Manager. He had a sister, a bard of considerable repute named Lahaka, who had caught Raknian’s eye the previous year. She had been very popular and performed often during last year’s games, but at the very end of the celebrations, she had simply disappeared. 

Akame had tried divination spells without success, and believed that his sister was, in all likelihood, dead. However Akame still wished to confirm this, and the only way he could think to do was to get into Raknian’s palace, or the forbidden area beneath it.

Our eyes were drawn as we spoke, inevitably, to the ‘forbidden’ and blocked off passageway to the south…


----------



## Firedancer

A couple of questions; mostly for Morrus.

What issue can this be found in; it sounds like a nice little aside I could fit into something I'm working on at the moment?

How much of it is your handiwork (the NPC parties I presume)?

Cheers.


----------



## Morrus

Firedancer said:
			
		

> A couple of questions; mostly for Morrus.
> 
> What issue can this be found in; it sounds like a nice little aside I could fit into something I'm working on at the moment?
> 
> How much of it is your handiwork (the NPC parties I presume)?
> 
> Cheers.




This is _"The Champion's Belt" _ from _Dungeon_ #128.  I do tend to change a _lot_ of stuff, though the NPC parties last week were pretty much as written.


----------



## Firedancer

Sorry to hijack the thread Eccles; Morrus I've checked out the Paizo webpage and looked at the highlights.  It sounds suitable to me, I'll be running an urban campaign and want to plot in some specifically named adversaries for the group.  Some will be met straightaway, others working away in the back ground.

One of the players wants an exotic race and will be playing a character striving to be a fighter without peer.  Sounds like I should be able to build this event in to the city as well as some early threads for plot.

It certainly sounds as if the Champion's Belt is easy to shed AoW material from.

Thanks very much.


----------



## Darmanicus

C'mon.....update already!!!


----------



## Eccles

Half an hour later, we sat in our lodge in the Coenoby having used several charges from healing wands to make ourselves recover from our wounds. We were about to discuss what our next plans were, as Endo flipped idly though his spellbook muttering something about “dwarves” whilst grinning most unpleasantly.

Outside, we could hear voices, plainly guards, and one of them was grumbling to the other.

“It’s just so difficult to keep Madtooth’s cage cold,” complained the voice. I looked up sharply at the others, and then sauntered outside, stretching.

The two guards were friendly enough, although plainly on duty and reluctant to discuss things in depth. I did manage to turn the conversation around to the dwarven berserkers, who were something of a ‘house team’, having been trained by the arena’s guard captain. They were well known for fighting with flaming swords of purest adamantine and shields, together with finely-wrought chainmail.

The next round, they offered, always saw one team fighting a terrible monster, but they wouldn’t be permitted to give me any details. With Endo’s help, a large gemstone swapped hands, and the guardsman admitted that it was a frost salamander; a creature the size of a small house which radiates a deadly cold effect, but was deeply vulnerable to fire.

Their tongues loosened by the bribe, they were also prepared to talk about Raknian, who they described as ‘a good guy’. One of the two dimly recorded Lahaka as a talented artist who may have been sleeping with Raknian, but she was rumoured to have skipped town immediately after the games. Raknian also cleared the ghouls out to the south, together with a group of others (including his now guard captain). The tailored stone was then placed over a flooded cavern to stop the ghouls getting out. The stone lay within the southernmost part of the Coenoby, a dilapidated area known as the ‘Titan’s House’, largely buried under tonnes of rubble, but a 10 foot tall alabaster statue known as ‘the Titan’ remained.

.oOo.

Having bidden the guards farewell, we headed to the Titan’s House ourselves. The plug of stone was perfectly plain to see, buried under ten feet of water. Looking around, we headed back for our evening meal, before equipping and returning. 

After several minutes of efforts with ropes and levers, we heaved the plug free from the water which immediately all but drained away down the hole. Clearly, the rumours of the chambers beneath having been flooded had been greatly exaggerated. To be safe, however, Igmut cast a spell which he assured us would let us breathe under the water; we then leapt into the deep, pausing only to heave the stone slab shut behind us. 

When we pulled ourselves out of the freezing water, we found ourselves in a narrow tunnel, down which Flynne crept silently. He returned with a report, and a grimace. He was holding his nose against a stench which crept around the corridor, coming from 9 or 10 shuffling and rotting figures at the end of the corridor. 

After Igmut had fashioned us rough masks of water-soaked cloth, we set off down the corridor with Flynne preceding us. As he reached the edge of the room, there was an abrupt cessation in the groans. Silently, the stinking ghoul-like creatures lurched towards Flynne with an alarming speed. They slashed at him with claws and opened their jaws wide to try and bite lumps out of him, but the nimble elf was too quick for them. 

Igmut piled in with his spear, driving it into the closest stinking ghoul as Flynne slashed around him with his enchanted sword. 

I moved as close as I could bear given the terrible smell, and started to blast at the undead with a magical wand, firing pairs of missiles into them whilst Malachite summoned a clutch of earth elementals and Sheba crashed into the fray, tearing apart one of the ghouls; in return, their clawed fingers scraped down Flynne’s new mithril buckler and Igmut’s heavy armour. 

Behind me, I could hear Endo muttering. “Too nimble, the teeth too pronounced, and the skin-tone shows sign of a prolonged diet of…  Guys, these are ghasts, not ghouls!”

Almost immediately, Igmut’s spear brought one low, but he was rapidly surrounded by other creatures and forced to draw his greatsword and defend himself. Flynne leapt away from this fray, firing his bow as he did so; almost immediately, he was charged by three more of the ghasts.

More magic blasted from my wand, and the ghast closest to me collapsed to the floor under the assault. Bitten to the neck, Sheba kept on fighting, and across the room from me, two of the elementals flanked a ghast and pummelled it until it collapsed to the floor. 

Beset on all sides by the biting and clawing ghasts, Flynne was bitten on the arm, and almost immediately he stiffened. Teeth and claws continued to scrape off his armour as the three ghasts tried their best to find an exposed area of skin to tear and rip at. One of the creatures tore a small chunk of skin from his leg and chomped down on it, a sudden and dreamy look on his face as it swallowed. 

Using his crossbow instead of his magic (having prepared his selection of spells that morning, Endo was ready for human opponents and not the undead), Endo shot a ghast through the throat, but it kept on fighting. 

Shouldering his way through the ghasts, Igmut dashed up to Flynne and cast a spell which freed him instantly of the paralysis. The fight began to turn, as elementals and Sheba each crushed their opponents. Flynne and Igmut were still beset by foes, although rocky elementals were gliding at Malachite’s direction to help them, and the ghasts seemed largely unable to find any exposed flesh to tear at.

Restored and able to move, Flynne dashed backwards and fired his bow once again, and his target fell to the floor, where it was crushed underfoot by one of the squat elementals. Malachite drew his scimitar and dashed up to assist Sheba, who was swift to claw down the offending ghast, whilst on the other side of the room the Flynne’s arrow brought down yet another. We united against the last couple of creatures, smashing and hacking at them whilst Endo and I fired crossbows at them. They fell swiftly under our combined assault, never to move again.

.oOo.

We looked around, and Flynne crept away up one of the two exits to the room. He returned a minute or so later, telling us of a cave with a thigh-high stream of filthy water flowing through it. 

He then looked up the other passage, but was holding his nose as he came back. Apparently, that way led a 300 foot wide cavern with over a dozen exits and perhaps 50 ghasts and larger creatures. We headed for the room with the river through it, and worked our way upstream until we reached an obvious end-point. From here, there was a wide filth-encrusted pipe which spilled refuse into the water, but no other exits. 

As Flynne went up the pipe to scout out, the rest of us looked around our surroundings. Igmut was rewarded (in a sense) when he found a severed and heavily gnawed arm, which was still wearing a gauntlet which glowed to my eyes with magic. We experimented with the item, to learn that it could be used to dissolve metals at a command.

.oOo.

When Flynne dropped the rope, we were happy to leave the slimy cave and head up to a room of shaped stones and bricks, in a room which was clearly used to dispose of refuse. Ugly bloodstains marred the stone at the top of the pipe. Endo consulted his compass, and swore to us that we were now in a series of passages directly beneath Raknian’s palace building. 

We headed up the corridor, but the instant we opened the door at the far end of it, we were assaulted by a group of three lumbering undead, each of them dripping with worms. We slammed the door and discussed our plans.

Grinning, I reached behind me and pulled out a new item – a carved wooden staff approximately 4 feet in length. We counted to ten, and heaved the door open as I triggered the magic contained within the staff, and a horrendous ball of fire blossomed in the room, crisping the worm-infested zombies in an instant.

We moved forwards to the next chamber down the corridor, which contained a decaying and empty bookshelf. To one side there lay an empty doorway, with the wood of the rotting door lying on the floor. New wooden double doors were to the north, and Flynne (sneaking a subtle look through the door) told us that there were 6 more worm-infested zombies together with some larger undead creature lumbering around the room beyond. 

We set off down the side passage first, but this did not take long. A short walk to a room containing a broken down piece of ancient machinery which, Endo declared, used to be a water pump which would have filled the drains. There was still a two foot wide pipe, down which we could hear a faint humming noise. 

In an instant, Malachite transformed himself into a rat and skittered off down the tunnel. Upon his return, he explained to us that there was a spongy wall of force blocking off the pipe, but that he could see a gigantic grub resting yet pulsating with an ever-growing power and menace. 

Raknian had already created a zombie-making death-worm from the Apostolic Scrolls.

.oOo.

The two heavy wooden doors crashed open as Flynne kicked them, and we gripped our weapons tightly as a sudden wave of fear and stench rolled over us. Whining, Sheba bolted down the passageway and we could hear a crash as she leapt into the pipe and slid swiftly out of sight and out of reach. 

The zombies lumbered forwards as Flynne fired and Igmut swung at them; missing. They didn’t try to smash at Igmut, but instead seemed to reach out and try to just touch him. Both of the closest didn’t manage to touch him, however; but we did see in horror that they held wriggling worms in their outstretched fingers. 

From a little further back, a third zombie threw a fistful of the worms at Flynne, and they landed all around him, mostly pattering to the ground. Two of the worms, however, landed on him and started to crawl over his armour.

The largest of the undead approached, and we realised that it didn’t have any worms on it at all, but that its torso and head were crammed with a long purple tube, which lolled out of the skeletal head like a gruesome tongue; tipped with a snapping jaw. Its huge fist slammed down at Igmut, crashing against his braced shield.

More worms were thrown at the half-orc, with a couple of them landing on his shoulder-plate where they immediately started to crawl towards the seam where his helmet met his shoulder-plates.

I began to sing, hoping that my song would help Flynne and Igmut resist the worms before they touched their skin; Flynne ignored the tiny crawling creature, and his bow sang as it killed one of the zombies with frost-rimed arrows. 

Igmut also ignored the worms, and struck the large undead (which Endo muttered was a ‘morgh’ – and he sounded alarmed as he said this). As his sword slammed home, he triggered the magics stored within the heavy blade, and a huge light burst out, burning the monster terribly. It screamed in pain and the dim light in its eyes blazed with fury, the purple ‘tongue’ writhing. A second heavy blow left the creature staggered, but not yet nearing death. 

Suddenly both Flynne and Igmut yelled in pain as the worms found exposed flesh and bit deeply, wriggling in under the skin. Thin lines showed that the worms were headed upwards, and the two at Igmut’s neck seemed to be trying to find a way to penetrate his skull and get at his brain. Bellowing in frustration, Igmut fumbled at his belt for a knife and shouted “remove them – a spell to get rid of diseases should do it!”

As they fought to extricate themselves from combat to better remove the worms, more of the tiny writhing creatures were thrown by zombies, missing both of the two fighters as another zombie punched Igmut in the chestplate. 

At Malachite’s summoning spell, a tiger larger and bulkier than Sheba appeared inside the room and charged at the biggest of the undead, clawing and biting at it. It responded by continuing its assault of Igmut, slamming his shield again before the ‘tongue’ shot out and clamped itself around Igmut’s throat.

As Flynne stepped back, I moved up to him, pulling a magical ring from my bag and expelling its stored spell into him. Instantly, the worms stopped moving, and I was able to pull their limp bodies out of the holes in his side before they vanished completely inside him. Endo dumped the contents of one of his flasks of holy water on the worms which were even now crawling over his armour. The holy water had no effect whatsoever. Flynne slapped at them, and both were squashed instantly under his fist. 

Igmut stabbed himself in the back of the head with his belt knife, pulling out the mangled body of one worm. Suddenly, however, he started to yell in pain as the remaining worm found a gap and vanished into his skull. And he didn’t have the means of removing it as the creature began to feast.

.oOo.

At the back of the room, the tiger was swiftly littered with worms which were thrown at it and left on it by a punch from one of the zombies. 3 more zombies threw yet more worms at Igmut, who still had worms crawling on him from seconds earlier. His armour was swiftly littered with the tiny writhing creatures. 

4 wolves materialised, tearing and biting at zombies and the morgh. The frenzied biting and tearing managed to trip one of the zombies, which fell to the floor shaking loose yet more of the worms.

Seeing so many of the worms both on the floor and covering Igmut, I resorted to a desperate ploy, casting a spell which boomed a resounding noise around Igmut. Small pieces of flesh fell from the zombies in the cacophony, and the many loose worms were suddenly reduced to mush in an instant. 

Endo cast a spell of his own, and 3 of the 5 remaining zombies started to move extremely slowly.

Free of worms, Flynne plied his bow-trade; 2 arrows slammed into one zombie and killed it outright, before his third arrow practically froze the entire head of a second, shattering it as it fell to the floor. 

The summoned tiger (whose skin writhed at the worms within it) and wolves assaulted the large morgh, which incredibly was brought to the floor by the attack, but clambered back to its feet despite being bitten by wolves yet again as it did so. 

My magic wand fired, and another zombie collapsed, whilst a few feet away I could hear Endo’s raven familiar squawking as it flew up to Igmut, touching him with one claw.

Igmut’s form shuddered, and abruptly he was transformed. His armour and features dissolved into the form of a huge lump of acidic jelly; the tiny form of a worm dissolving abruptly at its centre.

Flynne’s arrows slammed into the largest of the undead, which suddenly collapsed, falling over a zombie as it went; Flynne was quick to capitalise as he fired a arrow into this opponent and slaying it in an instant. The wolves and tiger savaged another of the zombies. The last died an instant later as the ooze which was Igmut lashed out with a pseudopod and simply rolled over the worm-infested undead; the virulent acids contained within his form dissolved the zombie and its many worms in a matter of seconds.


----------



## Eccles

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> C'mon.....update already!!!




This stuff doesn't write itself, you know!


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> This stuff doesn't write itself, you know!




Here, have a Nimby   

Nice update


----------



## Eccles

My dear listeners, it is with a heavy heart that I recount this latest verse of our tale; a part of the tale filled with death, ignominy and defeat. 

We begin our scene still within the room filled with the bodies of the undead. We had narrowly escaped a terrible loss by Endo’s quick thinking. Igmut, in his slime-like state, pooled near our feet before oozing around the room, puddling over the corpses and destroying evidence of our passage. I pointed out to him a few places where he should focus, and within short order the room looked as though it had been destroyed by some rampaging slime creature. 

After a brief discussion, we decided that we were clearly facing a complex filled with the undead. With Endo’s selection of spells after the arena fight clearly weighted towards fighting living and breathing opponents, we agreed that we should retreat and take a moment to refresh ourselves. As the arena combats were scheduled not to take place the next day, we would have plenty of time to rest and return.

Trudging our way back through the complex, we met with no opponents. At the foot of the flooded shaft, we took a few minutes to clean ourselves off, before I passed my _hat of disguise_ to Endo, and cast spells of invisibility on the others. Malachite warped the shape of the stone plug and we crept out. Once out, Igmut changed the shape of the stone back using a spell gifted to him by Kord. 

Endo and I left last, visibly dressed as engineers through the power of illusion spells, but the large ‘Titan’s House’ was deserted. We all went to bed, greeting a pair of guards en route.

.oOo.

The next morning, we woke late to the sounds of training outside. The monks of the Crazy Eight team were leaping and tumbling around one another, striking at unseen foes in a dazzling series of movements. On the other side of the Coenoby, Auric slowly drew his sword and started a graceful _kata_. Igmut couldn’t resist standing near him and starting his own series of attacks, which he referred to as ‘shadow-gouging’; a series of vicious stabs and strikes to weak-points on his imagined enemies.

Gathering our equipment, we moved off as a group to the Titan’s House once again. Once there, Flynne inspected the area whilst covered by another of my spells of invisibility. We could see that there were a couple of guards in the room, as well as the wizard from Auric’s warband and another gladiator taking advantage of the quiet. 

As Igmut started a prolongued prayer to Kord, Flynne crept into the room. Almost immediately, the wizard looked up, and we could see him exchanging words with Flynne, who was presumably invisible nearby. A while later, Flynne winked into existence a few feet from the wizard – I was confident that I had not stopped my spell, so it had presumably been subtly dispelled by the wizard. 

Flynne waved me over, and I spoke to the wizard for a while. He had become fixated with a series of musical notes, and was interested in commissioning me to build them into an epic piece for his group. He also hinted that he had been considering hiring a bard, but that Auric had not agreed with him. We decided to meet that evening, and discuss the music which he apparently had considerable notes prepared within his rooms.

Once the wizard had left, I started to play a variation on the notes which the wizard had been discussing, and led two of the three others out of the chamber. The last was apparently distracted by some droppings deposited upon it by Endo’s pet raven. He and I agreed that we wouldn’t tell anyone he had left if he wanted to clean his tunic; it was an easy bargain, as it also gave us his word that we hadn’t left the cavern during the same time.

By the time this was done, and Endo was setting up his equipment to raise the plug again, Igmut had finished his communion with Kord. He had planned to ask his god about the worm creature we presumed Raknian had somehow created, but it seemed that his god was not forthcoming that day.

We opened the hole, dived through the water and returned to the room filled with partly-dissolved and stinking undead, with a single doorway on the other side.

.oOo.

We were preceded by Flynne down a short corridor, at the end of which was another door, around the edges of which flooded a sinister green light. Flynne cracked the door open and snuck a look; his report was that the scrolls lay atop an altar. They were ringed by green energy, and a beam shot out from the scrolls to vanish between 2 heavy-looking stone doors to the left side of the room. On the opposite side of the room from the doors knelt a horned and hooved figure, clearly meditating at the altar. The only other way out of the room was a single door on the far side from us.

I glimpsed the room over his shoulder, and could see through my _Clair de Lunettes_ that the room was immensely powerfully lit with magical effects, stemming from both the altar and from the scrolls atop them. 

Our hastily whispered conversation over whether to open a discussion with the figure was cut short as it began a loud prayer.

“Oh, Great Kyuss!” it began…

“Go, go, go!”

Endo hurled a spell into the room from the corridor, but absolutely nothing happened. Telling the others that the room was positively crammed with magic from wall to wall, I began to play my lute with the most inspirational tune I could think of. Unfortunately, it was a variation on the tune given to me by the wizard.

Sheba leapt away from me, hurtling towards the figure with her claws outstretched, but slammed straight into an invisible barrier which appeared to ring the tiefling. It turned slowly towards us, grinning its pointed teeth. Flynne’s arrow smashed through the barrier, hitting his shoulder and his eyes flared red with fury.

Igmut cast a spell and swelled up to massive proportions. Towering over us, he strode into the room, and the crashing from his armour fell silent as he crossed the threshold. The tiefling began to cast, but was abruptly interrupted by a wolverine, summoned by Malachite, which appeared right next to him; apparently within the area ringed by the tiefling’s protective barrier. The wolverine bit deeply, and the tiefling swore in abyssal, but continued the gestures of his spell uninterrupted. 

A full 15 feet long, Igmut’s colossal spear stabbed downwards. The tiefling cursed audibly once again, but I couldn’t hear a thing from any of my comrades. 

Abruptly, the tiefling was joined by a second figure – a Bearded Devil cackled as it burst into the room in a cloud which stank of sulphur. Cackling as well, the tiefling stepped forwards (getting stabbed by Igmut and bitten once again), before touching Igmut, whose skin started to crackle and blacken. 

Endo cast a spell from his wand behind me; the black crackling ray fizzed briefly as it contacted the tiefling’s skin, but then failed completely. 

Whilst Malachite finished his second spell and a large white winter-bear materialised inside the room, but it missed the tiefling.

Not so Flynne. His bow sang three times, and three arrows sank deeply into the flesh of the creature. It swayed, almost confused by what had happened, before crashing to the floor. As Igmut hacked the bearded devil into two pieces, the green energy flowing from the scrolls seemed to crackle and diminish in some way,

We peered through the crack in the door, through which energy was continuing to flood. The beam of green light lit a 25 foot long corridor, at the end of which was a room bathed in a strong green light. We couldn’t see what was taking place beyond the source of that light. 

.oOo.

Beyond the small door to the north was a roughly square room, with a single green marble column in the centre. On the right wall was another door, and on the left lay a bed. At the foot of the bed was a chest, which Flynne immediately headed towards, whilst the rest of us became fixated by the slightly decaying elf-corpse which sat in the chair on the opposite side of the room. The female body looked up at us as we entered, and moaned faintly.

Igmut’s examination revealed that the elf had been murdered about a year ago; she was strangled by an assailant who had left a serpent-style ring mark in her neck. I strummed a few notes on my lute, and there was a flicker of recognition in the dull eyes, but she didn’t respond beyond that. We had found the bardic elf, sister to our manager, and the woman he was so desperate to rescue.

The trunk which Flynne was examining was made of darkwood and steel, and patterns around the outside showed a symbol of Kyuss on its lid. Around the edge was apocalyptic frieze of torture and desperation.

Flynne produced his picks and worked the lock open gingerly. When it had snapped open, he lifted the lid, but then vanished suddenly. All of his equipment dropped to the floor where he had been kneeling, and the lid slammed closed.

Rushing to look at the trunk, we could see a tiny naked figure of Flynne had suddenly appeared on the side of the chest. He appeared to be being torn to shreds by a horde of demons and the undead.

In quick succession, Igmut and then Malachite cast spells of dispelling, to no effect whatsoever. Only when Endo cast another spell did Flynne reappear, naked and screaming, clearly damaged severely by his time within the phenomenally evil chest.

We left the trunk well alone, and headed for the door. Down a short corridor was another large room.

.oOo.

From where we stood we could see another door on the far side, and a huge green and black checkered curtain along one wall. Almost immediately, Flynne entered the room and headed straight to a section of the wall on the right hand side, which slid part-way open at his touch.

We dashed in to look at what it was that he had discovered, and apmost silently the curtain dropped to the floor behind us. There was a terrible squelching sound, and then the room was filled with ice and terror.

.oOo.

Behind us squelched a lumpy misshapen heap of green and purple. It stank of acid and sulphur as its four tentacular arms writhed in runic and arcane motions. As we stared in horror at this devilish monstrosity, we noticed the eight-foot high skull-like symbol of Kyuss in mosaic on the wall behind it. As we looked at it, it pulsed subtly, and a wave of terror washed over us. 

An instant later, the creature’s spell blasted over us in the form of a wave of freezing cold. Ice crystals formed over our skin, clothes and equipment, causing agonising pain in us all.

Reacting faster than any of the rest of us, Endo turned and started casting spells. His _Ray of Enfeeblement_ missed the target, striking a couple of tiles off the mosaic wall behind what he called an “alkileth demon”. His second spell was one to inflict blindness, which struck square in where I supposed the creature’s eyes would be. However the spell took no effect whatsoever – I could see mystical static wreathing around it as the energies of Endo’s spell were absorbed and deflected.

The creature’s tentacles moved once again, and the room was filled with a noxious green gas, trapping all of us within the effect, and leaving Igmut, Flynne and myself retching and gasping for fresh air.

As Sheba and Igmut looked around desperately for an exit, having been terrified by the effect of the mosaic’s own magic, Malachite cast a spell and a roaring fire burst down on the creature from the heavens. It was barely even scorched by the enchanted fury, seemingly ignoring the fire completely, and taking only slight damage from the righteous wrath of nature which the spell encompassed.

Feeling bilious, I backed off down the corridor we had entered, being overtaken by a fleeing and panicked Sheba and then an equally panicked Igmut, who had by this stage been transmuted into the form of a large troll by Endo.

I could hear Endo casting once again in the room. Two more spells slammed at the creature, and both of them failed completely; thwarted once more by the creature’s innate resistance to magic. Endo then backed off down the corridor towards me. Malachite and Flynne remained in the room; I could dimly see Flynne retching and sheltering in the doorway on the far side of the room, whilst Malachite had found a small area of clear air near the demon.

Abruptly, my sight of them both was lost, as the room filled with ice and frost. A massive icy wall grew in an instant, blocking us away from our two comrades. Unable to help the two who were trapped, and still close to throwing up, I staggered towards Igmut, scrabbling at my belt pouch for a scroll and hoping that I might recover enough to use it. 

Behind the wall of ice, I could hear more howling winds and demonic laughter, as another freezing spell of death was cast on either Flynne of Malachite. 

I suddenly regained my ability to breathe properly, and dashed up to Igmut, reading the words off the scroll and removing the effect of the magical fear from him. He smiled grimly, and turned back up the corridor, his trollish feet pounding on the stone as I carried on up the corridor towards Sheba, who was unable to run too quickly as she was also retching and coughing as she went.

As I went, I gained more and more distance from the sounds of magic behind me. Black lightning flashed and crackled as tremendous powers were invoked by someone or something.

By the time I had read a second scroll and in Sheba’s footsteps, Igmut had used his trollish strength to smash his way through the wall of ice which bisected the room, and was hideously wounded, covered in a thick layer of ice and frost, and with a number of welts and injuries across his hide. Sheba was behind him, also badly hurt by the frost.

All I could think to do was to cast a spell to hasten both of them and also Endo and myself. I couldn’t see Malachite or Flynne within the room, but Sheba was slashing at the acid-secreting lump with an unrivalled frenzy. Unfortunately, her claws were unable to penetrate the creature’s preternaturally tough hide. 

Igmut tried hard to wrestle the creature to the ground, but it proved too slippery and powerful for him to control completely; he couldn’t stop its tentacles from thrashing around and casting spells.

Endo’s spell from near me in the doorway came in the form of a green ray; it burst out and around the creature before dissolving once again in the face of the demon’s natural resistances to magic. 

There was another burst of freezing cold from the creature, and Endo and I could see through the blasting cold as Igmut and Sheba were both frozen solid by the sheer cold. Their deaths were instantaneous.

Unable to see where Malachite and Flynne were, or even if they were still alive, and seeing that the demon was all but completely unharmed, Endo and I stared at one another in horror.


----------



## Eccles

*Not* our finest week.


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> *Not* our finest week.




Indeed not but to be fair.......


Endo's spells, or a fair few were geared for more undead, Not demons 
Demon has SR 24 I think we worked out, meaning 75% of everbody's spells were going to fail, (in fact every single one of Endo's spells failed).
DR15/the party don't have it!!! Only Igmut had the power to hust it physically.
And before you mention crits.......it was immune 
As it was to several elements or had at least insanely high resists.

Not good.

P.S. Almost forgot about the at will abilities of Cone of Cold, Wall of Ice and Teleport......and those were not everything in its arsenal.

Geez, it was a harsh night and it aint over yet


----------



## El Jeraldo

Wow...just...Wow! That was amazing. I typically play as some form of melee character and our DM is very role-play oriented with very few actual encounters for me to bash things. I totally would have been the fool swinging away with his sword or hands at that death blob and would have died in my headstrong stubbornness. I really feel for ya Igmut. Soldax gives you his best wishes from beyond the grave. (Level 7 fighter died valiantly at the hands of an Ogre with a few too many levels of barbarian)

-El Jeraldo

P.S. Please don't give up on me i love these write-up's and appreciate the hard work Eccles puts into making them amazing


----------



## Darmanicus

El Jeraldo said:
			
		

> P.S. Please don't give up on me i love these write-up's and appreciate the hard work Eccles puts into making them amazing




Don't worry we're not giving up mate   

Undeadifying Igmut shouldn't be too much of a problem; in fact he'll probably be more intelligent as a result!


----------



## Eccles

As Endo and I stared in horror at the frozen corpses of Igmut and Sheba, the air near the purple demonic monstrosity rippled, and a 20 foot long crocodile suddenly materialised next to it snapping viciously.

“Malachite, over here!” Endo shouted out, whilst cancelling the spell of shapeshifting on Igmut. His lumpen trollish frame warped and shrank into a nearly as lumpy orcish one and he lay amidst the frost. With his mind now clear, Endo started to trawl through the loose parchments wedged at the back of his spellbook.

Hearing Endo’s shout, Malachite hurtled through the narrow gap in the ice wall. He was in the form of a cheetah and was practically a blur in the air as he passed me heading for Endo. He was followed, to my enormous relief, by Flynne’s running form, also leaving a smear of instantly frozen blood and flesh as he brushed past the wall on his way.

Diving past Flynne, I leapt through the narrow gap myself. I could feel my skin and the blood from my open wounds freezing in the intense cold around me before I dived towards Igmut and Sheba. Only 10 feet from the demon, I gestured and willed into existence the most powerful spell I could think of. Immediately, a glowing orange portal opened almost horizontally in the air beyond the two bodies. As I crashed into them, we rolled with the force of my momentum through the glowing doorway and emerged into the echoing chamber of the Titan’s House.

A moment later, a black slash appeared in the air a few feet away. It widened, and Malachite, Flynne and Endo stepped through. I could see the purple monstrosity in the background before Endo’s _Dimension Door_ spell closed on it.

.oOo.

We stared at the bodies. After almost a full minute, Malachite turned away from the corpse of his longtime companion, assumed the form of a small bird, and shot away out of one of the small ventilation shafts into the town beyond. Flynne, Endo and I discussed matters, and buried Sheba under a heap of rubble before carrying Igmut’s corpse back to our lodge within the Coenoby, past a number of stares from other champions.

Once we had placed the frozen body onto a pallet, Endo sent his raven familiar flying away into the city to find our sponsor, Akame. We needed to discuss matters with him, and see what we could arrange to resuscitate our fallen comrade. 

When he arrived, with the raven perched on his shoulder, we spent a long time discussing what we had seen. We explained that we were convinced that Raknian was in league with one or more necromancers, and that they had purchased the Apostolic Scrolls. We explained that there was likely to be an abomination launching an attack on the city within the next week, but all Raknian could ask was details about his sister.

When we could put off the issue no longer, we had to admit that we thought we had found Akame’s sister – or at least her body. When we admitted to him that she had been raised as an undead plaything, having clearly been throttled, he was understandably distraught. When I told him that I had seen a serpentine ring mark at her throat, he was quick to point out,

“That’s Raknian’s ring! I must kill him!”

“You can’t,” I replied. “You’d be killed in an instant, and would probably tip off his necromancer allies that something was awry. And they might disappear, taking the monster with them. You can avenge your sister, but not yet.”

After a great deal of pleading, he agreed that he would not try to kill Raknian that instant (although he didn’t promise not to throw himself at Raknian’s throat on the last day of the games). Instead, he agreed that we had to survive, and to that end he would help us obtain a scroll to bring Igmut back from the dead. However, he no longer had any resources to spend on such an item, and we therefore had to ransack our own equipment for expensive items which we could afford to sell.

Igmut’s recently found _Gauntlet of Rust_ was swiftly sacrificed, and Flynne produced the _Bronze Griffon_ from one of his bags (despite my being certain that the last time I’d seen it, it had been going back into Malachite’s backpack). Much money, and other items were deposited into Akame’s arms, and he struggled back out of the Coenoby.

Whilst he was leaving, Endo handed me a scroll, and then cast a familiar spell of polymorphing on me. I then also left in the form of a bird through one of the many ventilation shafts, leaving Flynne with an item salvaged from Igmut’s backpack whilst we were searching through it for saleable items. As I flew from our rooms, I could see the mystical oak tree already taking root in the chamber below.

Once out, I joined Akame, recovered all the items and then sold them myself; Akame having neither the talent nor the contacts to get the best price. Once the task was complete, I bought the most powerful scroll of recovery which I could find before I used Endo’s precious scroll of teleportation to return to the others.

Once there, I unrolled the precious scroll and held my breath for a long time as I tried to absorb its complexity. Trying hard not to let on how complicated this scroll was, I read the words, and a moment after I had finished, Igmut twitched, bellowed, and half-rolled, half-leapt off the pallet. Landing cat-like on the floor, he looked up at us; his face was completely cleansed of injuries, scars and even his acne – he looked strangely young as he stared around us in confusion.

Several hours later, Malachite simply stepped through the side of the oak tree in our lodge; one of his hands was resting on the neck of a suspiciously similar looking tiger, which growled at us all nervously, its tail twitching.

.oOo.

We were woken the following morning by a gong whose sound echoed throughout the Coenoby. We rose, sharpened our weapons and Malachite, Igmut and Endo prepared their minds and their spells for the forthcoming combat with the dwarves of Pitch Blade.

At noon, when the fight was to take place, we were separated, and each of us was led individually up to the large sandy arena. As we went, we were told that we would have no time to prepare for the fight beforehand, but that we could cast any spells we would want during the speeches to the audience.

We were led onto the sand, and spaced equally around the walls of the arena. Endo and I stood side by side facing Malachite and his new tiger companion on the far side. In each corner of the arena was one of the four dwarves, whilst Flynne and Igmut were both on their own with their backs to the other walls. The wall which Flynne had his back to was mounted with a series of plainly enchanted windmill blades, although their purpose remained unclear. 

As the speeches drew to a close, we all sprang into action; the Pitch Blade dwarves began guzzling potions, and ignited their flaming broadswords. As the audience burst into applause at the speeches, Malachite changed his own form into an identical tiger, and he roared out spells of his own. Both he and his matching tiger compatriot swelled to colossal sizes and began to blur.

My own spellcasting time was spent turning both myself and Endo invisible, and hasting us both, as well as creating a couple of auditory illusions of us both casting spells in the event that we were to move away.

I was dimly aware of Igmut casting a panoply of spells upon himself, as he grew to giant proportions and began to positively glow with a number of holy auras, just in time for the gong to sound once again – the fight had begun!

The dwarves were sluggish in reacting to the sound of the gong, but Flynne reacted first – he dashed across the sand to where Endo and I still stood; he and I had been planning for this fight for a number of days. Meanwhile, some 50 feet to my right a towering Igmut crashed into a dwarf with his massive greatsword inflicting terrible damage. 

As the blade struck home, there was a brief flash of light and the dwarf suddenly looked shocked and stunned. I wove magic, and turned Flynne invisible, using a more powerful and complex version of the spell that that which I had placed on Endo and myself.

At the same time, on the other side of the arena, the two tigers separated and each pounced on a different dwarf some 100 feet or more apart. Although a terrible amount of dwarven blood soaked into the sand, both of the Malachitehty warriors grimly clutched at their burning swords and bellowed oaths of vengeance on the tigers. 

To my side, I could hear Endo casting spells before wings began beating near me and he flew away from me, but as his wingbeats faded I could hear the bellowing of the four dwarves. In fury, they each leapt towards a foe. As Flynne, Endo and I were all invisible, two of the raging dwarves hurtled towards the tiger to the left hand side of the far wall, each hacking at the beast twice, but each of them struck only a single blow. However each would was grievously deep and the tiger (I could no longer tell if this was Malachite or Sheba’s replacement), roared in pain and anger. 

The other tiger was also struck once, and its blood spattered the walls and sand, but the greatest dwarven fury was reserved for Igmut. Whatever spell he had inflicted on the dwarf through his sword had not yet taken full effect, and it swung and struck with deadly fury. Igmut, however, did not seem in the slightest bit fazed by the dwarf’s anger and he struck back in kind with deadly accuracy – although without the additional inspiration and confidence granted by both my songs and Endo and Malachite’s magics then the injuries he inflicted were perhaps not as great as he might have wished. The dwarf, however, was staggered by the damage. 

As I stepped away from the wall and began singing, the two tigers again clawed and bit at their dwarven foes, and behind me a tiny pixie materialised, chanting the words of a spell. One of the four dwarves stiffened, dropped its sword and began to fly towards its comrade, arms outstretched. A second spell from the pixie was flung at another dwarf, stripping it of some of the effects of the four potions I had seen it drink.

The dwarves struck out, hitting one of the tigers and missing the other, whilst the dwarf near Igmut suddenly stopped moving and began to dribble gently into the sand. Flynne, meanwhile, flickered suddenly in and out of sight, his fiery and icy arrows slamming into one dwarf fighting a badly-hurt tiger. One arrow tore out the dwarf’s throat whilst a second embedded itself deeply into its chest. The dwarf collapsed to the floor even as Flynne faded from sight. 

In the far corner of the arena, Igmut continued to gleefully hack at the dribbling dwarf, which stared around itself with a slackjawed expression on its face. I briefly saw Igmut reverse his grip on his greatsword and attempt to slam the butt of his sword into the dwarf’s face, but he lost his grip on the heavy and unbalanced weapon; the hilt of the sword glanced off the dwarf’s shoulder plate.

I dashed across the sand to use a wand of curing on the tiger which was still engaged in fighting the dwarf (who was even now being aerially assaulted by his flying-but-dominated comrade). 

At this point, however, the windmill-blades began to spin, and I was treated to the vision of the tiny pixie hurtling through the air past me, screaming imprecations at the designers of the arena as the gale-force winds sent him tumbling. I managed to just about keep my footing, whilst the tremendous winds did little more than ruffle the fur on the huge tiger, and didn’t significantly disturb Igmut’s 15 foot mass.

The tiger I was standing next to managed to claw and bite at the nearby dwarf, whilst the second tiger dashed the length of the arena to slam into the other (still stupefied) dwarf and tore him limb form limb. Between this bloody sight and where I stood, I could see Endo crash to the floor as he ceased his time as a pixie. He lay there, casting a spell which sapped away much of the strength from the surviving fighting dwarf, whose two blows were both thwarted thanks to the _blur_ effect on the tiger. 

The dominated dwarf snatched his still-fighting comrade by the shoulders and started trying to heave him skywards, at which point Igmut trampled through the heavy winds and slammed his spear into the dwarves, killing one, and driving the spear deeply into the belly of the other who was struggling to lift his comrade. The dwarf, although dominated, was then savaged by tigers and spear as he tried to fly away, before he finally managed to hurtle skywards and a voice echoed across the arena.

“Competitor is disqualified! Victory for the Rough Diamonds!”

As the windmill stopped, the wind died down and I realised that the crowd were screaming their approval. Letting the invisibility spells fade, I raised my arms to celebrate with them. Looking around, the only person who wasn’t celebrating was Raknian, who looked furious at our having defeated his house team.

We saw his fury up close, as he handed us our trophy (made of silver with a fighting dwarf etched rather ironically onto its surface), together with a large bag of gold. 

We retired to cure our wounds, and prepare for our combat against the winners of the other teams. As the victorious other groups came down, we learned that the dragon had been defeated by the soldiers, whilst Auric and his band of three stone golems had made short work of the ‘Crazy Eight’ monks. 

One of us would be fighting a monster (which we had already learned was a ‘frost salamander’), whilst the other two teams were slated to fight one another. 

Igmut cast a spell of divination, asking Kord about what was to happen on the last day of the games. He later described to us all a terrible vision of a deep crevasse opening up in the centre of the arena as tens of thousands watched the spectacle.


----------



## Morrus

I like the next bit best... gobble gobble...


----------



## Eccles

I refuse to write the bit about the giant turkey attacking the party...


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> I refuse to write the bit about the giant turkey attacking the party...




I was trying to think of something cool for Thursday - I think you've just hit on it!  Thanks, Nik!


----------



## Dpulse303

c'mon Nic update already!!

in all seriousness this is only a bump , dont hurry , just make it great!


----------



## killjoy68116

OK... hahahaha... jokes over huh... i need the stuff man... come on, stop holding out man... i need the junk man... I NEED it dude... spiders, spiders crawling on my skin man...


----------



## Eccles

By 11 am the next morning, we were back in the arena, fully equipped and having been scanned by a series of wand-wielding mages. We were then raised in the winched lifting platform to the screaming noise of the arena. We stood alone, as a referee announced our names to the crowd, before shouting out,

“And the Rough Diamonds will fight Mad Tooth the hungry!”

We looked at one another. Mad Tooth the hungry? That didn’t sound like the frost salamander we’d been told about by one of the guards. Perhaps the rumour in the Coenoby from the previous evening that the salamander had fallen ill and had been taken to a cleric was accurate. 

At the same time, a cry came from the far side of the arena. Talavir, chief of the guards, appeared and looked hassled. He shouted to the referee that they were having a tough time with ‘Mad Tooth’. With a tremendous roar echoing from behind him, he ducked back through the archway whilst uncoiling a glowing whip. 

.oOo.

As tem slow minutes passed, we stood around nervously as the crowd became ever more irritable, even angry in some quarters. Small coins began to fall down into the arena, and the referee cast a spell to ward himself from the missiles which began to fall around him. 

Some quarters of the stands were on their feet, yelling and screaming in fury before the doors to the arena slammed open, and a massive iron cube was dragged in by 20 rope-hauling guardsmen. Each side of the huge box was emblazoned with the words “Mad Tooth” in fresh red paint which still dribbled and ran down the sides. The box itself shook and crashed with the roars and thunderous movements of whatever was inside, and each heavy movement sent water sloshing out of the base of the iron cube. 

As the box was pulled into the centre of the arena, we backed off cautiously and some of the irritable crowd members began to jeer and turn their attention to us. Suddenly, the box stopped moving, and the 20 guardsmen dropped their ropes and dashed for the way in, heaving the solid doors shut behind them. We could hear an incredibly heavy bar falling into place and locking us in with the beast in the box.

A single rope, raised on a pulley, was hauled up to Raknian’s box – he took up the rope in one hand and smiled condescendingly down on us as he pulled it with a sharp tug. From the box, there was a metallic ping as a complex series of weighted pins flew from the sides of the crate, and simultaneously the four painted iron walls fell outwards, crashing to the sand of the arena floor. 

.oOo.

As the dust settled, we could see an absolutely massive squat and ugly form, seemly a truly colossal frog, but with three eyes which extended from its slimy green head on a tentacle. Its front legs branched into pairs of long writhing tentacles, each clearly capable of reaching a long distance. It opened its mouth, revealing row upon row of razor sharp teeth and a massive pink, barbed and sticky tongue. 

We all turned to Endo, expecting him to tell us about the creature, but it was Malachite who spoke quietly. 

“That’s a froghemoth. The very worst the Barrier Peaks have got to offer. It can swallow a horse in a single mouthful, and is completely unharmed by fire. It will also shrug off great amounts of electrical charge. It’s got to weigh at least 5 tonnes, how they captured it I don’t know.”

“RIBBET”

The croak echoed around the whole of the arena which fell still in an instant; the only movement being Flynne scrabbling to draw an arrow, dashing off to one side and firing an arrow which sank into the creature’s thick hide but which seemed to have no effect other than drawing its attention. 

Flexing its legs, the creature hurled itself up into the air, and slammed to the floor near my elven companion, with one of its long front tentacles already curling around him. The tentacle curled instantly around Flynne and tightened, and he writhed in agony at the pressure. 

Malachite produced the rod of quick casting, and tapped Igmut on the shoulder, giving his features the sheen of stone before casting a second spell which sent chunks of ice crashing from the clear blue sky around the creature, hammering it with cold and beating hailstones. Meanwhile, Sheba dashed to far side of the arena on the other side of the froghemoth. 

Endo, meanwhile, dashed away to a safe distance and sent a series of bleak and dark lines hurtling at the creature; his spell struck the flank of the beast where it burst into a shower of ineffectual sparks. 

As I began to sing encouragement, Igmut stepped forwards and swung his heavy sword at the creature twice; the second blow struck true and burst with sunlight. We held our breath, but the damage was nothing like as grievous as we were accustomed to – his arm wasn’t as strengthened as it usually was by empowering magics. 

The creature opened its gaping maw and simply tossed Flynne in with a flex of its tentacle. The mouth closed, and it swallowed. We could see Flynne’s struggling form as he lashed out on his way down the froghemoth’s throat. 

Malachite tossed the rod of quickening to Endo, and cast a spell on himself, whilst Endo (still moving backwards) cast two spells – one generating a skeletal hand and sending it hurtling towards Igmut carrying his second which burst into dramatic effect. Igmut’s pale green skin darkened considerably as he swelled and grew upwards. His armour warped and twisted to wrap around his new shape as he stood facing the froghemoth as a large and saggy-breasted hag. 

I kept singing, louder than ever with the hope that my voice might reach Flynne in the creature’s belly and help him in his efforts to break free.

Wading in, Igmut clawed and bit at the froghemoth, his sword and spear forgotten in his enthusiasm. Great tears and rips appeared in its side, whilst at the belly, Flynne’s rapier bit twice, stabbing through the stomach wall, but his hands didn’t quite manage to tear a way out. 

Suddenly, we could see the blade stopped sawing and fall free from nerveless fingers. Flynne was dead, killed by the creature’s vicious stomach acids. 

The froghemoth bit down at Igmut, but the teeth simply scraped along the line of his armour. Its tongue glanced off his thick green scaly hide, whilst tentacles began to lash out at him. Only two of them were sufficiently powerful to grab hold of him, and they wrung at his massive body like a dishrag before dropping him to the dirt. However, the stony spell and other enchantments now flowing through his system meant that he simply stood back up and continued his assault on the beast. 

I noticed at this point that Malachite had stopped chanting, as a huge white bear appeared next to the creature, adding its claws and teeth to the assault, whilst Endo (a metal magical rod gripped in each hand) cast spells as though there would be no tomorrow. A tremendously dark and powerful ray of enfeebling slammed into the creature’s head, tearing through its magical defences like a bandsaw and the beast sagged under the tremendously powerful draining energies. A second spell saw the beast wreathed in spirits which began chattering and tearing at its wounds.

I joined the spellcasting, giving myself, Malachite and Igmut the gift of speed, and the effects of my spell were immediately visible as Igmut, revelling in his hag-form, clawed and tore at the creature, ripping lumps of flesh out of its sagging form.

Weakened, many of its blows crashed off Igmut’s armour, but he was again grabbed and twisted by two of the tentacles. I could hear his joints popping as it twisted at him, but he was again safe within his stony enchantments.

A rhino appeared and crashed into the froghemoth, which bit at the incoming grey beast, but the damage was insufficient to stop the rhino’s momentum. The rhino’s heavy horn crashed at great speed into the froghemoth, driving the point through the back of its mouth and into its brain. The creature moaned once, and then collapsed.

.oOo.

Although we worked quickly to cut Flynne’s body free, the acids had done their work and he was dead and terribly maimed. Once we had been given the gold trophy and 10,000 gold pieces, we once again pooled our resources. Once again I crept out of the Coenoby and once again purchased a trememdously powerful scroll, and shortly after I had returned then Igmut ensured that Flynne could recover.

As the arena overhead echoed with the cheers at Auric’s victory, Flynne coughed and rose from his bed, screaming and clutching at his wounds as the acid damage disappeared in the glowing light of the resurrection spell.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Ah - the sheer horror of the Froghemoth - that thing was absolutely terrifying. Although the mega turkey might have been all the more frightening?

Am up to date now after a touch of slacking on my part.  

Thanks for the sympathy there El Jeraldo! It was put right again, but only just - if not for our arena winnings, I'd have been playing something else!

Nice writing Mr Eccles!


----------



## Dpulse303

Well done chap , good write up!


----------



## Dpulse303

Bloody great frog killed me in about 3 rounds! not much fun, almost got out of the things guts , i missed the damage score by about 3 points ! lol


----------



## Dpulse303

please update asap Nic, and bump.


----------



## Eccles

That evening, in preparation for the final round of the games, we agreed that we should dine with Auric and his team, both as a grand gesture, and also to tell them of what we expected to happen during the combat so that they could prepare for an invasion by an army of the undead.

I therefore left to visit their lodge within the Coenoby, but was disappointed to see that Auric, his team, and all of their equipment seemed to have disappeared. When I cornered one of the guards and demanded to know where our opponents were, he told me that they would be “dining with Raknian”, at his invitation. 

Rather concerned at what Raknian might get up to with our opponents, I nonetheless left an invitation for them to have breakfast with us, and headed back to the others.

.oOo.

Auric and his team (including the three stone golems) came back to the Coenoby the following morning, having apparently stayed overnight in Raknian’s palace and even eaten breakfast with him. Their wizard, Khellek, came and knocked on the door to our lodge, however, and waved the note curiously.

Dropping the slight disguise illusion I had taken to wearing, I stepped out to join him and sat on one of the many low stone benches.

“You know us,” I explained as I gestured at my own appearance. “We’re a group of lads with high aspirations and enough nerve to have a try at things which might normally be beyond our reach. But we’re still not as experienced as you and your comrades. What’ve you been adventuring for? Three, four years?”

“Five,” he replied haughtily. 

“Exactly my point. We’re a bunch of chancers who’ve managed to get through to the final round of a nationally reknowned competition of the martial arts. We’ve out-fought monsters and men, and managed to outwit even the very champions of this arena. And now we’re facing you. You have to have wondered how we’ve done it.”

“Well, I had - ” he began, but I cut him off.

“We’ve been asking the Gods themselves for help. Igmut has divined the results of what is going to happen in the next round. We had him speak to Kord and ask what will happen this round, and he was granted a vision.”

We both sat for a while as Igmut recounted his vision of the last fight once again, seeing Auric in the background as the earth was torn open to reveal a gigantic undead monstrosity, with a gaping maw and tendrils lashing around it.

When he had finished, I turned back to the wizard and finished my explanation as to why we should be ready for anything. I used every trick I could think of, and when I had finished he looked at me for a second.

And then Khellek laughed.

“Really. I have heard of some weak attempts to intimidate an opposing team, but this?”

Chuckling, he walked away across the Coenoby. It took me a moment to realise that the slight grinding noise was my teeth. I unclenched my jaw and turned to the others.

“Well, that didn’t work. What should we try next?”

.oOo.

We were still bickering as we were raised into the arena, to the triumphal roar of over 10,000 people who screamed and chanted. The rules were read out to us, and I could feel my teeth grinding again before the referee had finished.

The arena was divided into 17 areas. Each of them had been enchanted by some of the greatest mages in the realm. Every 5 or 10 seconds, the spells would be triggered and anybody within them would be transported at random to another part of the arena. Each corner of the arena and the centre were enchanted with specific effects. We were to begin in the ‘fire’ themed corner; this had been enchanted to rain devastating fire down on anyone within it immediately after the teleports had taken place. 

The other corners were themed with ‘air’ (which would hasten anyone within it), ‘earth’ (which would slow occupants down), and ‘water’, where Auric and his warband would be starting. This area would heal the occupants of all wounds.

The central zone, which overlapped four of the others, was set to dispel any magics on anybody who was still in it after the teleportation effects had taken place.

As soon as this had been explained, the horn was sounded – the last combat of the Tournament of Champions had begun!

.oOo.

Whilst the trumpeter still had his lips to his instrument, Flynne had stepped out of the ‘fire’ region and strung his bow. A single arrow arced across the entire length of the arena and crashed home into Khellek in the far corner. I was pleased to note that the wizard wasn’t laughing any more. 

Malachite (in the form of an eagle) then cast a spell, screeching and batting Igmut with his wing. The half-orc’s skin abruptly turned a rough stony hue with the protective powers of the spell, before Malachite and the new Sheba hurtled across the arena to the ‘air’ zone, where they would be safe from the teleportation and would benefit from a quickening of their reflexes in a moment.

As Auric stepped out of his corner towards us and quaffed a potion, I also stepped away from my friends whilst singing to inspire my comrades for the fray ahead. Khellek, under the effects of a flight spell, took off out of the ‘water’ zone; his casting was echoed by Endo, who also took to the air, but not before he cast a spell of hasting on himself, Flynne, Igmut and I.

Slowly, the rumbling stone golems stomped out into the arena, before the entire coliseum was filled with a golden light. As we all looked around the arena blinking from our sudden relocation, we could see a truly colossal ball of fire erupt in the place we had started. 

Finding himself far closer to Khellek, Flynne fired 4 more arrows at the wizard, but only one of them struck home before he was charged by the sword-wielding form of Auric. The warrior’s sword stroke went wild, however.

Finding myself practically at the feet of one of the massive stomping stone golems, I chanted swiftly and, invisible, dashed away from the lumbering form. Meanwhile, Khellek quaffed another potion and his skin also took on the patina and hardness of stone. 

Seeing Flynne in combat with Auric, Endo cast a spell, and we could all see Auric’s eyes turn glassy with his utter domination. Endo then employed the staff of quick spells, dispelling the stoneskin effect from Auric, although his flight spell stayed in force. 

The golems continued to lumber around, one breathing a thick chalky dust over Igmut, but my half-orc comrade shook off whatever ill-effect it was supposed to have on him; in response, Igmut slashed out at the rocky monster several times, only landing one deep gouge. I could see Khellek’s eyes open wide at the sidden glimpse of the scarab which held Igmut’s cloak to his shoulders and allowed him to cut deeply into the golems without thinking of their tough hides. 

Once again, the entire arena filled with the golden light, and we were once again dispersed from our various situations. Igmut bellowed in shock at finding himself in the ‘fire’ corner, and we could see him diving away from the centre of the titanic blast of fire which burst in the air around him.

I suddenly realised that I was standing slightly off the centre of the arena, and I could feel the tendrils of magic try vainly to strip away my invisibility spell, but when I looked down, I was relieved to realise that the spell had held against the onslaught. I then looked up, and could see Auric, framed on his own against the stone wall of the arena.

Suddenly, the arena floor began to shake and quake, and the ground practically at my feet was torn asunder with a deafening cracking noise. My view of Auric was suddenly obscured by dozens, perhaps hundreds, of long and writhing tendrils. I looked down at the crack in the earth by my feet, and could see the onrushing maw of the colossal undead worm. Several rings of glittering teeth chewed at the falling rocks, and as it closed I could smell the appalling stench of rot and decay coming from the thing’s belly.

Stepping hastily away from the crevasse, I could hear Raknian shouting across the arena, his voice carrying even over the screams of the thousands of terrified spectators who were even now yelling in terror and climbing over one another in a mad scramble for the exit.

“Lo,” bellowed Raknian. “The Apostle of Kyuss is among us! There are the Champions you seek!”

He gestured down at those of us in the arena, before falling back onto his cushioned seat in a fervour, smiling in grim delight in expectation of the carnage to come.

.oOo.

I cartwheeled and ducked away from the creature’s maw and found myself in the ‘fire’ corner, although it was apparent that the magic had been destroyed along with the greater portion of the arena floor. This combat would be completed without fear of random teleportation, but without the healing of the ‘water’ part of the arena. 

Once again, Flynne leapt into action before the rest of us, and it was his bow which spoke for him. Four arrows crashed into the putrescent flesh of the Apostle’s flank, but simply crashed into the flesh and fell to the floor. Even as it was still pulling itself to the surface, Malachite concluded a spell and two huge rhinos began a rumbling charge across the arena. Rapidly, the beast turned and snapped at them, missing one, but gouging the second deeply with its many razor-sharp teeth. The two mighty beasts slammed home, however, and they each dealt grievous wounds to the terrible monstrosity. Large chunks of dead flesh simply crashed off it as it was struck, but the damage from the two charging beasts seemed not to have phased it in the slightest. 

Fire crashed from the heavens at Malachite’s insistence, but the mighty spell seemed not to have burned, or even touched, the Apostle of Kyuss. 

Although he was struck by the flailing tendrils and a welt scored down his forearm, Auric sprang into the fight and slashed at the beast with his heavy sword, before ducking back away again, even as he ordered the golems to attack. (Although it was strange to note that he seemed to look at Endo for permission before taking any action). 

I finished my flight from the tendrils, and cast a spell of protection on Igmut, making him appear to be several feet from his true location, whilst at the same time Khellek hurled a ball of fire at the monstrosity. The flame guttered and died just a scant few inches away from the titanic undead worm, leaving it untouched. 

Endo chose to spend his time flying over to Igmut, and casting a spell which warped the orc – his body swelled up and his muscles bulged as he turned into a very tall troll,  as the Apostle bit down twice on one of the rhinos, leaving two massive rings of deep incisions in its flank.

The many long tendrils lashed around the Apostle; a full 40 feet around the huge grey body which rattled around and pattered off the stoney hides of the golems and Igmut; all of whom then round in and pounded on the massive putrescent body. As the first closed, the huge ring of teeth gaped open and closed at the heels of the stone golem, swallowing it completely. Bizarrely, this didn’t seem to phase the golem in the slightest, and it continued to pound on the beast from the inside. 

Flynne, under the effects of a potion of flight, fired 4 arrows before flying upwards to be safe from the creature’s lashing tendrils. The arrows buried themselves deeply within the rotting flesh, whilst the two rhinos backed away and turned, pawing at the ground and ready for another charge.

Whilst I sang another encouraging song, Auric once again dashed in and slashed once with his two-handed blade, whilst Khallek produced a wand which he used to fire a beam of sunlight at the creature, scorching its flesh with its power.

The sudden effects of Endo’s next spell were pronounced, as a dark ray from his fingertips was empowered by another metamagic rod he was carrying; this drained the massive rotting creature of a great measure of its strength. 

The creature inhaled, before vomiting out a terrible rush of putrescence, sickness and bile washed over Igmut, who shuddered, and then ducked as the heavy form of the stone golem was also vomited out by the disgusting creature’s actions. 

The golems pounded on the creature, and it bit the air near the one it had just vomited out. Igmut followed, slashing three deep and telling blows with his greatsword on the creature’s flank. 

As Flynne fired another set of arrows, two of which simply striking flesh which was already sloughing off the creature and the other two causing some level of pain to the Apostle, the two rhinos charged once again. The first crashed into the side of the huge grey worm, whilst the second ran straight into the creature’s open maw. Shards of teeth were shattered in the impact, but the Apostle tilted back its head and swallowed the charging rhino whole. 

Auric darted in and slashed at the creature once again, whilst I produced the staff of fireballs. Despite my best efforts, the fireball which was produced guttered and died before it made contact with the creature, and was outmatched by the effects of Khellek’s wand – the beam of light he send speeding down at the beast once again left a patina of scorchmarks across its flesh and left another crack in its skin which ran down to meet the huge gouges where Igmut’s swordstrokes were connecting. 

Endo’s spell also faild, before the beast’s maw slammed onto Igmut, dealing remarkably little damage due to the stoney skin. The beast tilted its head back to try to swallow him, but he simply slipped from its rotting lips and regained his footing. He looked around and grunted. 

“Freedom of Movement spell,” he grinned as he raised his sword once again and struck deeply at the creature. Once, and then twice he struck, cleaving vast swathes of dead flesh off it to fall in rubbery and lifeless chunks at his feet.

Then, suddenly, the beast began to wail. It raised its long body almost entirely off the floor, sending shivers through the floor of the arena. The long cracks in its flesh stretched and flaked, but then a ripple burst in the air from the Apostle. The cracks in its flesh widened, and the entire outer skin of the beast peeled away, revealing flesh which was red and raw in its exposure to the open air. 

As the slippery, thick grey skin fell to the arena floor, it somehow dissolved into the ground, and the oily patina in the floor rushed out in the wake of the ripple and the wail. As it passed, dark ghostly spirits rose from the arena floor wailing as they flew.

The rising spirits paused to form clusters, which then descended on the few unfortunates who had not yet managed to fight their way free of the arena. Each of these men and women were dragged down kicking and screaming, and spirit after spirit sank into their body, possessing and suppressing their own life energies until each of them lay dead amongst the stands.

A cluster of the spirits dived towards Raknian, who had now stood from the cushioned seat and was raising his arms as though inviting the spirits towards him. They sank, wailing, into his body, which suddenly burst into gouts of bright red flame. Screaming and thrashing in his agony, we could see Raknian’s eyes as they faded through the flame, before bursting back to life as deep red pinpricks of light. Stepping free of the burning spirits, the monster which had been Raknian reached down and produced a dark helm, before gesturing. A towering black horse with flaming hooves appeared from nowhere, and Raknian mounted, thanking Kyuss for his blessing before simply fading from sight.

.oOo.

We turned our attention back to the worm, which glistened sickly and wetly in the light. Having sloughed off so much of the dead skin, the creature was somehow thinner and looked more predatory as it flailed around with its dozens of lashing tentacles. None of the deep wounds which had marked its outer skin were on this thinner body, and it opened its maw wide as it searched for new targets.

Flynne fired once again at the beast, whilst Malachite cast a protective spell to cover Sheba’s fur with a thick layer of bark, whilst I fired another vast fireball from the staff. This struck home, and the creature seemed to write in pain; having lost the outer layer the creature seemed to be more in pain and unable to struggle as much damage as it had before. 

Khellek’s wand-shot fizzled before making contact with the Apostle, before it bit down and _through_ the spine of one of the rhinos, swallowing it in one mighty gulp before it also bit at Igmut. The golems and Igmut crashed a series of blows onto the monstrous beast, although many of Igmut’s blows went wide of the mark. Auric once again dashed in, and his greatsword also missed the creature’s body before both my fireball and Khellek’s wand-spell burst and then faded inches from its putrescent body.

Endo flew over the creature, dumping a flask of holy water down which immediately made one patch of the skin turn grey and flaky; it simply stared up towards him where he flew out of reach and roared in impotent fury.

Still weakened from Endo’s earlier spell, the creature continued to bit at those around it, but was unable to damage either Igmut or the golem, before Igmut slashed twice into the beast, finally remembering to trigger the spell stored in his own sword. There was a flash of light which burst up through its chest, turning all of its skin ashen in an instant. As we watched, the radiant light burnt the massive worm-like Apostle of Kyuss from the inside, and by the time it crashed to the floor then much of its skin had dissolved, leaving only the rapidly burning and decaying ribs which rotted and blew away on the dust even as we breathed heavy sighs of relief.

.oOo.

By that evening, things had returned to a semblance of normality. We had met Akame, and introduced him to the decaying form of his sister. He took her with him as he announced his intention to find someone who could restore her to normality.

The great and the good of the town treated us as heroes, and to Auric’s apparent disgust were given the Champion’s belt. There was, however, no prize money, as Raknian had clearly taken this before his descent to the depths of depravity. 

We visited Eligos’ manor house, but to our horror both he and his manservant had been slain; their throats slit. Igmut stood in the room with the bodies and cast a spell; he was rewarded with a vision from Kord to see Raknian’s guard-chief together with two assassins slaying both men. 

After a degree of pressure, Eligos’ lawyers agreed to spend a portion of his estate on a spell of resurrection so that he might be brought back to the dead and explain what he had been working on. The local priests, however, did not have enough magic prepared to cast the spell immediately (possibly something to do with my comrades and myself buying any scrolls with the spell in the last few days). 

Before Eligos could be restored to us, we spent several days relaxing and celebrating in the manor house. On the third day, our reverie was interrupted by a messenger.

“Gentlemen,” he announced. “I come with an urgent message from the proprietor of the Feral Dog tavern in Diamond Lake. He; we have urgent need of your assistance - a dragon has come to town!”

We looked at one another. Adventure had sought us out once again.


----------



## Morrus

And that ends the fifth _Age of Worms _ adventure, _The Champion's Belt_.  Starting this week is the next adventure, _A Gathering of Winds_.


----------



## El Jeraldo

I like how you guys tend to get pwnd by strong random creatures but really own face when it comes to the final bosses you own face and hardly get scratched (in comparison).

...and the plot thickens...dum dum dummmmmmmm!

-El Jeraldo


----------



## Eccles

We're an extremely buff-centric party; give us 3 rounds immediately before a fight and we (particularly Igmut) will tear into anything like a chainsaw.

If something turns up and makes us spread out and panic, then the buff spells don't get laid down efficiently, or even in the right order - and some people dive out of the reach of the enemy, and therefore also of the buffing effects. 

Long story short, if we have no buffing, we're about 3 or 4 levels less effective. If we're buffed we punch in a *much* higher weight threshold. Which is probably why the 1st arena fight was quite as one sided!


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Long story short, if we have no buffing, we're about 3 or 4 levels less effective. If we're buffed we punch in a *much* higher weight threshold. Which is probably why the 1st arena fight was quite as one sided!




That makes it damn hard to introduce balanced encounters, too!


----------



## Eccles

The messenger who had brought us word that we should return to Diamond Lake was a wiry yet strong looking man who introduced himself as ‘Maynard’. Peering at him through my spectacles, he appeared to be wearing a number of enchanted items of not insignificant power. He did not, however, have a large number of big weapons – he appeared to have overcompensated for this by secreting shuriken and innumerable sai about his person. With a simple glance, I could see at least a dozen of the long three-pointed daggers sticking out of his sleeves, thrust into his belt and dangling in loops at his thighs.

We offered him the run of our (rented) mansion overnight, and agreed that we would set off with him the following day to return to Diamond Lake to see what we could achieve. 

We spent a short while descending into the depths of the city to revisit the illithid’s chamber where we found that the scrying pool was still working. We used the pool to look over our homestead, and the devastation there was terrible. 

.oOo.

The next morning, we awoke to find Maynard standing impatiently and waiting for us to leave, but although we searched high and low, Malachite was nowhere to be seen. Lying on the pillow in his room was a short note.

“My friends,” it read. “I have seen too much in your company to remain comfortable with the path you have set yourselves upon. A great deal has been risked, and I cannot, in good faith, take my latest companion into still greater danger. I do not feel that I can allow your risks to endanger those who follow me. 

“I have therefore taken it upon myself to leave you. I do not enjoy farewells, and have therefore left in my own way. You will, I am certain, find that which you have been seeking - I am sure that this ‘Kyuss’ will come to nothing when faced with your skills.

“I wish you good luck with your hunting.

 -  Malachite”

Disheartened, we considered our options. With a dragon (described by Maynard as black in colour and of tremendous size) menacing our home town then speed was of the essence. We therefore decided that the best way to get there was to leave our horses at the mansion (which still had several weeks’ rent paid in advance), and for Endo to use a powerful spell of teleportation. The drawback was that Endo only had the power to translocate himself and three others.

“Into the sack, new guy,” was the result of a brief argument. Maynard the Monk was deeply disgruntled, but climbed into the mystical bag of holding, and within a few seconds we were standing near an abandoned farmhouse a short distance out of the town itself. Looking into the town, we could see that many buildings were either crushed or badly damaged, blackened strips of ground were pitted with acid burns, and inhabitants could be seen dragging bodies into rough piles. Both Allustan’s home and Endo’s mother’s house had been utterly destroyed by the dragon’s wrath.

Gritting our teeth, we strolled into the town, where we learned that the beast had been killing citizens; dragging them out into the centre of the town and threatened that it would keep killing the villagers until both Allustan and ‘the adventurers’ were given to it. When nobody spoke, the dragon slaughtered them, by teeth, talon or sometimes by breath. 

Eventually, the villagers admitted that they did not know where we were; only that we had gone to the Free City. Allustan had apparently headed to the Whispering Cairn, and so the dragon took flight across the lake 3 days ago, and had not been heard from since. 

.oOo.

We set off on foot around the lake, figuring that heading across the lake by boat would single us out as too easy a target for a breed of dragon which could both fly and swim. Once we were within bowshot of the cairn’s entrance, we cast a number of spells, not the least of which was several protective spells which Endo swore would save us from the dragon’s acidic breath. 

Igmut cast a couple of his longer-lasting spells, and then we picked our way on foot towards the cairn. Once we were close enough to touch the entrance with a thrown stone, Flynne began to creep forwards low to the floor. 

Suddenly, almost directly over Flynne’s head, a huge black form materialised from a blanket of invisibility. The shadow cast by the creature’s outstretched wings covered easily 60 feet from side to side, and we could clearly see the creature’s sinuous neck move slightly as it inhaled and then breathed out a tremendous gout of acid at our elven friend.

Flynne leapt and rolled to one side as the dark acid scorched and burned the ground within inches of him. Noxious fumes boiled up from the pooling acid, and Flynne choked and coughed as he moved away from them. As he went, he fired a shot which struck the hard armoured plates of the creature’s chest before Flynne leapt down into the cairn entrance and then headed a short distance into the cave for safety.

The rest of us, including Maynard, looked at one another nervously. 

“What do we do now? Attack, or…?”

I had barely finished speaking before Endo drank deeply from a potion flask and vanished from sight completely. Maynard, moving faster than I could have imagined possible, hurtled across the low grassy hills and dived into the cavern entrance to join Flynne. 

“Dragotha take you, the wizard is mine!”

The dragon’s loud bellow echoed around the hills as it landed a few feet above the cairn entrance; its heavy talons crumbling rock as it gripped tightly and cast a protective spell to wreath itself in shimmering protective energies. 

Concerned, I cast a spell of _displacement_ on Igmut before throwing myself behind a tree, from where I watched him cast a second spell on himself and also take cover. 

From the cover of invisibility, Endo cast a spell and lightning arced through space crackling around the dragon and another point in space. Endo appeared 30 feet away from me, hovering up in the air. As Igmut and I hid behind trees, the dragon clearly though that Endo was the most choice target. Its wings beat heavily as it took off and flew towards him. As it passed, its long neck stretched out and it bit deeply into Endo’s shoulder. The wizard screamed in agony as his blood began to run down his arm and fall pattering to the leaves on the floor 30 feet below. 

Across the hill, Flynne stepped out of the cavern and fired his bow. His arrow sailed somehow *through* the dragon, which cackled as it twisted in the air and started sailing back towards us. Panicking now, I cast a spell of my own and turned invisible, whilst Igmut cast another spell before running upwards through the air towards the dragon. Once there, he slapped the creature on its scaly hide. The sound of the contact on the dragon rang out, but whatever spell effect Igmut was obviously expecting to take place failed utterly in the face of the dragon’s mighty resistance to magic.

Hovering carefully backwards through the air, Endo cast another spell, using his uninjured left arm to target the spell as a tremendous black ray boiled through the air and struck the dragon. So powerful was the spell that it tore through the dragon’s resistance, and we could see the dragon’s muscles sag as a good deal of its strength was drained away by Endo’s sinister spell.

As Maynard hurtled through the air twisting like a corkscrew to take up a position some 30 feet to the dragon’s right, the great beast itself roared loudly and then flapped its wings, biting out at Igmut before turning and breathing another huge gout of acid in Endo’s direction. The teeth bit close to Igmut, who pirouetted in the air to avoid the snapping jaws, but Endo was caught in the fumes from the caustic spray and his face turned instantly pale and started to fly away. The dragon flapped its wings and hurtled after him, ignoring the spell which burst from Igmut’s sword slash to its flanks as it went. 

Flynne fired his bow repeatedly, but the arrows either glanced off the scarred plates of the creatures hide, or hurtled through the subtle displacement effect around its edges.

Igmut cast another spell which saw him grow in size before moving up towards the dragon lash out and bite deeply into his armoured forearm. Taking advantage of the distraction, Endo cast another spell (which missed the beast owing to the power of its _displacement_ spell, before flying away. 

Seizing his moment, Maynard also took this opportunity to fly in at the dragon, one fist outstretched, but he struck only the creature’s thick armour plating. The dragon ignored both the monk and the half orc and crashed to the floor near Flynne, snapping at him and chomping a terrible wound into my elven comrade. 

Once again, Igmut and Maynard crashed into the creature’s flank; Maynard was thwarted by the thick scales, but Igmut’s heavy sword stroke crashed in and split one of the scales.

Once again, the dragon roared out. “Go home, and leave me to the wizard!”

A couple more of Flynne’s arrows smacking into the creature’s belly were our answer; followed by Endo flinging a long sliver of bone at the beast, which struck with a flash of dark energy and then shattered. The bone shards fell to the floor, and then sprang into movement, assembling themselves and growing as they stood up in the figure of a nimble, sword-wielding skeleton. 

Staring briefly at Endo, Maynard the monk then dashed the short distance across the air towards the dragon and struck at where he thought it was; his blow struck empty air thanks to its spell effects.

Finding myself dangerously close to the dragon, I backed away carefully whilst singing encouragement to Maynard and Igmut. The dragon, however, ignored my presence and lashed out in all its terrible fury at Maynard. Teeth, talons, wing-blows and even the creature’s tail crashed down, and it was all Maynard could do to stagger away clutching at his terrible injuries.

Igmut’s sword swept through empty air near the beast once again, and then Endo cast a spell, which ripped away the glowing of the magic armour the dragon had been protected by. 

I cast a spell of hastening, which sent the rest of the group into overdrive; as the dragon lashed out in fury at Igmut (who survived thanks in part to the preparation of the songs I had been singing and the _displacement_ spell I had cast upon him), I continued to sing songs of famous dragon killers.

Flynne, from a short distance down the tunnel, took careful aim and fired. His first arrow crashed into a carefully-picked pale scale in the creature’s belly – the long shaft buried itself through the scale and cracked it down its entire length. Almost immediately, a second arrow hurtled out of the cavern, striking less than an inch below the first; far deeper still. A third arrow was still hurtling out of the cave-mouth, but the job was done. 

“Dragotha will take you,” the dragon roared and bellowed in agony, twisted, and then crashed to the floor, still.

.oOo.

As we cast curing spells, we shouted down the mouth of the Whispering Cairn for Allustan, but there was no response. A brief foray into the Cairn itself showed that there was little unchanged apart from a single side-passage. Where previously there had been a huge pile of rocks and rubble blocking the entrance, there was now a short tunnel ending with a dark wood door. 

Beyond the door was another length of carved stonework, at the end of which there was a smooth and glossy black surface which bulged out towards us very slightly. When Maynard threw a shuriken at the surface, the weapon disappeared through it, leaving a series of ripples floating on the blackness. 

I tore up a sheet of parchment and made a small flying device, which couldn’t penetrate the black surface, but when tied to a rock, the same strip of parchment flew through smoothly with the same, perhaps deeper, ripples. When I poked at the surface with a stick, I could feel it immediately being grabbed by something beyond. Pulling sharply, we could all see a pair of gnarled, decaying hands gripping the other end of the stick. With a yell, I released it, and both the hand and the stick vanished behind the smooth black surface.

Grinning toothily, Igmut picked up another stick and poured water on it from a flask marked clearly with Kord’s holy symbol. He poked this stick through the black portal as well, and we could all hear a hiss. 

Igmut cackled before raising his holy symbol and bellowing out the name of his god. 

Absolutely nothing happened, and so he raised his shield and headed through the portal with a length of rope tied around his waist. The rest of us waited for a few moments before there was a tug on the rope, and we hauled hard. Igmut was swiftly pulled out of the blackness, and as he came out it was clear that he was holding oneto something. However, no matter how hard we hauled on the rope, we were unable to pull the object out.

Eventually, Igmut released the figure within the blackness, and we retreated to rest and prepare for a more concerted effort to penetrate the black portal the following morning.


----------



## Morrus

> Seizing his moment, Maynard also took this opportunity to fly in at the dragon, one fish outstretched




Freaky!


----------



## Eccles

Ummm... Spellcheck's fault?

I'll go and change it...


----------



## wolff96

I take it that Maynard is the new character from Malachite's player?

He decide druid wasn't the class for him, or is something else going on?


----------



## Eccles

That's pretty much it. I think Malachite was getting a bit worried that Sheba (and whatever was to follow her) couldn't keep up with being the party tank.

Also, he was probably getting bored with the whole "summon, rinse, repeat" thing...

We're all a little curious how effectively the monk will (a) mix with the rest of the party, and (b) fare with the whole AoW thing...


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Ummm... Spellcheck's fault?
> 
> I'll go and change it...




And I thought Doug was playing Aquaman for a moment there...


----------



## stonegod

Eccles said:
			
		

> That's pretty much it. I think Malachite was getting a bit worried that Sheba (and whatever was to follow her) couldn't keep up with being the party tank.
> 
> Also, he was probably getting bored with the whole "summon, rinse, repeat" thing...
> 
> We're all a little curious how effectively the monk will (a) mix with the rest of the party, and (b) fare with the whole AoW thing...



Monk's can be effective; they just need to be played correctly (i.e., they aren't Fighters!). Paizo has a discussion of this right now on their AoW boards, actually.


----------



## stonegod

Here be that link. Its spoiler free (so far), so have your Monkish friend take a look.


----------



## Morrus

Pretty picture!  From the left: Endo, Evan, Igmut, Flynn, Malachite (and Sheba).


----------



## Eccles

Uh... 

Wow?

How cool is that!


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Uh...
> 
> Wow?
> 
> How cool is that!




Very cool


----------



## Darmanicus

Not happy though that "Git" the raven wasn't mentioned.

The rest of the party is having bets on me raven's survivability!!! Can you believe that!!!?

So far it's beaten Malachite's 1st and second tiger. In fact it's beaten all their odds 

Pls goddess of magic, get me to epic levels and that feat which gives familiars the ability to cast a spelll.......................

Shapechange.................oh yes you gits, now let's rock!!!


----------



## Morrus

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> So far it's beaten Malachite's 1st and second tiger. In fact it's beaten all their odds




Tell you what - have it do what Malachite's tigers did, and we'll talk.

Next big fight - Raven's gonna charge in and engage the big bad in melee, eh?  I'll keep that in mind.. remember the elven dog thing!


----------



## Darmanicus

Morrus said:
			
		

> Tell you what - have it do what Malachite's tigers did, and we'll talk.
> 
> Next big fight - Raven's gonna charge in and engage the big bad in melee, eh?  I'll keep that in mind.. remember the elven dog thing!




Hey that dog was cool.......best friend I ever had sob.

Aww man, I was just thinking about the raven dive bombing the BBEG and turning into a phoenix and I thought, where the hell did that idea come from?

G Force aka Battle of the Planets   

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWMY4U1g4pg

Check it!


----------



## Cyincal Lurker

Eccles said:
			
		

> Uh...
> 
> Wow?
> 
> How cool is that!




I'd have to say, on a scale of 0 to 1 Chuck Norris, that's a 0.75.


----------



## Dpulse303

Very cool picture. 
compliments to the artist.


----------



## Dpulse303

Typical of Igmut to be hogging the fire ....


----------



## Eccles

After a restless night in the Whispering Cairn, lying on rocks and wafted with a breeze sharp with the tang of dragon’s blood, we prepared ourselves as best we could for whatever might lie beyond the pitch black portal. The surface was viscous, trying to pass through it was like trying to shove through an over-filled wardrobe. 

Taking our time, we cast almost every spell we could think of on Igmut before sending him through the portal to take on whatever might lie on the other side. As he passed through the glossy black surface, it snapped solid behind him, refusing any of the rest of us passage.

With no choice, we waited, before he returned nearly half a minute later, unceremoniously dumped two halves of a dark-skinned and spike-covered ghoul on the ground then dived back through the portal. A moment later, a solitary ripple passed over the surface, and Maynard the monk was once again able to pass through into the unknown.

Left alone with Flynne, he passed me a scroll which I happily read over a selection of arrows and crossbow bolts. In an instant, they were enchanted with an incendiary spell, before Flynne also pushed his way through the glossy back portal.

Finally, another ripple passed across the surface, and I also shoved through the strangely gelatinous black surface. Spending a frightening amount of time in a cool lightless chamber, I pushed forwards and emerged into a light, noisy stone-lined chamber. The sound was appalling – screaming sounds emerged from a series of pipes on either side of the room, whilst the chamber itself appeared to be filled with a choking thick gas and flapping wings. Strange gas-monsters were assaulting my comrades, and whilst I dashed across the room they tried to force their way into my throat as I inhaled. 

Maynard was systematically smashing the shrieking pipes with thrown sai, whilst Igmut hacked and Flynne fired flaming arrows at the belkers. I joined in the assault, firing a shot from my crossbow, and as Igmut’s sword scythed through two of the creatures, my flaming crossbow tore through the centre of the last, killing it in an instant. 

.oOo.

Leaving the now silent and still chamber behind us, we entered a large stone room with three sealed doors on the other walls. Each of those doors was flanked on either side with stone statues clutching small bowls.

In two patches on the floor we could see patches of carved rocky spikes, as well as a massive series of carved runes across the floor which spelled out “Glorious Icosiel”, and spoke of the “incomparable armies at the battle of Pesh” in the language of the element of air. 

As Maynard, Igmut and I gazed at the floor Flynne looked with a practiced eye at the doors. Getting too close, the bowls suddenly started to spurt forth a massive volume of white smoke, enveloping a suddenly coughing Flynne and cascading across the walls. Slowly, the white smoke began to twist and wreathe under the power of a spell, showing slowly moving images of the wind-duke Icosiel fighting with demons, allying with a Marut and clutching a large seal and lengthy staff – the Rod of Seven Parts. 

Suddenly, as he moved to one side to get a better view of the writhing images, Igmut yelled as he was hurled into the air by a sudden blast of wind. He was thrown towards the stone spikes but collapsed just short of them under the weight of his heavy armour. At the same time, Flynne emerged coughing and trembling from some power of the smoke. 

After a couple of restorative spells from Igmut, Flynne was able to look once again at the door, and found what it was that had caused the gas to flow out so readily. He and Maynard used Igmut’s spear to poke and prod at the doors; 2 of them opened readily, but the third stayed firmly locked. 

Unwilling to risk triggering the lethal smoke, we used a spell to walk through a magical door down one corridor to a point just beyond a crossroads with a statue of a celestial standing in the centre of it. Once we stepped through the mystical _Dimension Door_, there was the sudden noise of a gong ringing around us assaulting our senses – we were all able to shake it off.

The gong rang once again as we inspected the statue, clearly trying to assault our minds with its spell, and so we turned away and looked at a door. 

“It’s locked,” announced Flynne as he turned to explain things to us. Suddenly, however, his eyes went wide with alarm. We snatched at our swords as we turnedto face whatever he had seen.

A tremendous black and grey spider was squeezing its way down the narrow corridor. As it drew closer we could see that its body was thick and dark, yet somehow insubstantial. Each of its legs flashed towards us, casting shadows down the corridor which it seemed to slip _into_ as the beast dashed towards us; 8 black eyes gleaming hungrily as it came. 

Flynne fired as the beast was still approaching, but his arrow hurtled straight through the centre of the creature. A second arrow struck its abdomen. Maynard raised and flung a fistful of shuriken, but all of these flashed through the shadowy creature’s form. It responded by biting down on the air near the monk, and then Igmut’s heavy sword leapt through the air. He missed initially, but then struck true onto the beast; then his enchanted blade flashed brightly with the stored light spell. 

I cast a spell to speed up my comrades, and Flynne swiftly fired a huge number of arrows. Only one struck the beast; the others simply slid through its heavy body. 

“Intruders,” yelled the shadow-spider. “Defilers! I shall slay you all!”

Maynard suddenly leapt from stillness to deadly action. His hands blurred the air as he pummelled and kicked at the monster, leaving it battered and leaking charcoal-coloured blood.

In response, the beast’s legs flashed out and battered Maynard before it lowered its massive head and bit him deeply on the shoulder. In a second, the monk looked pained and his flesh turned green. His muscles turned stiff and he stopped moving. 

“Defilers,” came the throaty voice of the spider. “How dare you? Thieves and robbers!”

“Die, evil spider scum!” Igmut’s response was simple and brief. “We not steal. We look wizard!”

As the half orc yelled and swung his sword, he also took a moment to toss a scroll over his shoulder to me. I seized it up and read from it, and in an instant Maynard was free from his magical paralysis. 

Flynne’s arrows sank deeply into the beast, and it was then pummelled severely once again by the vengeful monk.

“I will return to defend Icosiel’s tomb!” 

With these curious words, the ghastly black spider turned to flee down the corridor, but Igmut hacked a single blow through its hindquarters and abdomen. As it fell, it whispered its last curse upon us.

“Plunderers and thieves, you will pay… I promised the good servants of law that I would guard…”

And with that, the vast black spider was dead. 

.oOo.

A few moments later, Flynne swore. The door behind us was a fake.

We pushed past the cursed statue; prepared this time, I was able to play a complex counter-song which stole the power from the gong’s magic and allowed us to pass safely. 

Once past, we pushed open a second door. This opened into a black-walled room with a dark wrought iron gallery ringing the edge some ten feet up. The floor was lined with neat matte black tiles, and 4 purple crystal chandeliers lighting the room from above. Hovering in the centre of the room was a black sphere. 

Initially terrified by the look of the sphere, we paused to examine it closely. The sphere was simply an illusion – and also the symbol of the ooze para-elemental general Bwimb. This great warrior had allied with the Queen of Chaos prior to the Battle of Pesh. 

Frescoes in the black tiles showed Icosiel forging an alliance with the tall form of an inevitable, who was being presented with a square rune-covered stone which was presented to him on a platter carried by a triumvirate of glowing creatures.

Across the wall, a second series of frescoes showed the surrender of innumerable demons surrending to the wind-dukes, or else warding off dark spheres with loop-capped rods which looked suspiciously like the item we had found in the ‘Tomb’ elsewhere in the Whispering Cairn. 

Igmut, furthest of all of us into the room, suddenly stiffened and sniffed the air a moment before a large black puddle reared up, all-but invisible against the black tiles of the room. A single pseudopod lashed out at Igmut, and he yelled in pain. His skin instantly reddened and blistered as the terrible acids burned him. The lashing tendril wrapped around Igmut, but slid off him as though unable to find any purchase. As Igmut’s clothes rotted away, he produced a dagger and stabbed at it.

With a wet tearing sound, the huge black pudding split up its centre before sinking in two neat halves to the floor. Igmut stared in horror at his dagger, which dissolved before his eyes. He looked down at his armour, the enchanted mithril was already pitted and scarred almost beyond recognition by the single blow from the vast pudding. 

Looking almost… scared, Igmut backed away out of the room.

“Should I close the door?”

“No,” I called back whilst scrabbling at the ties on the back of my pack. “Shoot it. Reduce it into as many pieces as you can!”

Behind me, I could hear Flynne’s bow humming and saw Maynard pulling out shuriken and hurling them towards the black pudding. When I stood back up straight clutching a staff in my hands, the room was positively filled with 8 acidic oozes. 

I twirled the staff in my hands and triggered it, bathing the room with fire. When the inferno had died down, so had the puddings.

.oOo.

As Igmut replaced his destroyed clothing, Flynne climbed up the ladder to investigate the door out of the black room. Beyond the door lay a steep slope which ran down and around a corner to a second door. 

Once Flynne had picked the lock to this, it swung open to reveal a rectangular room with intricately carved walls. White light spilled out from chandeliers in the ceiling. There were stairs leading up and out of the room, as well as a series of doors. There were two sets of blue double doors, and one single door leading out of the room. 

“After you,” said almost everybody at once.


----------



## Eccles

Clearly that was a Darmanicus free session, hence Endo's lack of input in the fighting. 

To update you all, we're now 10th or 11th level. We may even all be 11th after this last session, I can't honestly remember. 

Oh, and it was an elder black pudding. DC 29 Ref save or lose your armour. Igmut was lucky; very lucky.


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> With no choice, we waited, before he returned nearly half a minute later, unceremoniously dumped two halves of a dark-skinned and spike-covered ghoul on the ground then dived back through the portal.




NOOOOO........missed pet opportunity.......well at least for a few days    

Note to self: D&D is more important than being tired.....make sure you attend.


----------



## Morrus

This week was fun... conversations with giant spiders, nasty traps and a big fall down an underground waterfall!


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

That was a fun week there - did enjoy the whole feel of that complex...

Even if the pudding of doom was quite, quite terrifying! Armour eating monstrosity!

Seeing off the vicious servants of Law was fun, although I'm not entirely convinced we should have done that. Might have turned out a little differently if Morrus had been able to roll higher than a 3 on any of his D20's. 

Nice to see Maynard laying out the monkish smackdown as well - he really gave that thing a whupping!


----------



## Dpulse303

Last session was excellent also , looking forwards to eccles write up ...


----------



## Eccles

As we stood at the bottom of the steep slope staring into the room beyond, Flynne squinted slightly before raising his bow and firing flaming-yet-ice encrusted arrows into the stone-lined chamber.

Suddenly, the air in the room rippled slightly as shadows condensed and coalesced into solidity. 2 more of the massive shadowy spiders appeared in the room in reaction to Flynne’s fire. The first twisted; a sheet of thick viscous webbing sprang up in the entrance to the room. The second charged across the room, up one wall and was finally suspended from the ceiling out of our reach whilst snapping at us with its long barbed leg which clanged off Igmut’s metal shoulder-plates.

Flynne and I backed gingerly down the corridor; he firing his bow whilst I struck up a song of encouragement. As we backed away, another thick spray of webbing was sprayed through the corridor. The pale substance slid uselessly from Igmut’s magic-enhanced frame but wreathed and coiled over Endo and Maynard sticking them to the floor in an instant.

Turning, Igmut cast a spell and stretched to touch Maynard. The monk shuddered and twisted – in an instant he broke free of the worst of the webbing and began to pull his way free of the rest. 

Despite still being trapped in the thick webbing, Endo chanted and gestured in the direction of the two spiders. A vast bang echoed through the room when, with a flash, a bolt of electricity leapt between the two massive spiders causing them both to writhe and twist in the energies. Endo was unable to pull his way through the tremendous mass of webbing on him, whilst his raven familiar flopped in the white tendrils unable to escape. 

Freed from the webs, Maynard threw a series of shuriken towards the thick body of the spider on the ceiling. The shuriken flew awkwardly and most of them caught in the web or slammed into the doorframe. Only one of the four shuriken actually struke home and sliced a long thin wound across one of the spider’s many limbs. 

In response, the spider dropped from the ceiling and bit savagely at Igmut. The teeth slammed shut over the top edge of Igmut’s hastily braced shield before the spider snarled; poison dripping to the flagstones. 

I cast a spell of speed which helped Flynne fire a huge sequence of arrows at the closer of the two spiders. The second spider responded by firing a thick single strand of webs across the room. The webbing slammed into Maynard’s chest at which point the spider twisted and started to haul him into the room. Maynard’s muscles strained in his efforts to avoid being pulled into the spider’s grasp before Igmut’s blade flashed in the corridor and the webbing strand fell in two pieces. 

Igmut’s second blow crashed into the torso of the nearer spider, as he yelled into its face,

“Stop killing us! We just look friend!”
“Intruders,” rasped the spider in sudden reply. “You fired first. Evil raiders. We had done nothing. We only defend the tomb.”

There was a moment’s sheepish silence as we all slowly turned to look at Flynne. With a supreme effort of will, the elf somehow restrained himself from firing another salvo into the teeth of the closest spider.

“We give you one chance,” said the closest spider. “Drop your weapons.”

Slowly, gradually, we backed away from outright conflict. First Igmut sheathed his sword before Maynard gestured widely as though to show that his deadly hands were clearly unarmed. 

“This is Blackleg,” gestured the more wounded of the two spiders at his fellow. “I am called Flycatcher. There are others of our brethren within easy contact. We know that you have slain Walker Across The Threshold.”

Properly nervous at the suggestion that there might be three more of these deadly beasts stalking the corridors invisibly nearby, we were suddenly more than willing to listen. 

“We guard this level. The first level,” the massive shadow spiders explained. “Beneath us are other layers of Icosiel’s resting place. Other guardians. And… others. 

“Many miles beneath us lies the underdark, and within it lies a people known as the White Kingdom. A people comprised of the living dead; known as ‘true ghouls’. One of these creatures has escaped his fellows, and now resides in the layers beneath us. This ‘Moretto’ has become bold and now raids that which we protect. He has come through the cavern; past the river of blood and stole the Seal of Law from its restingplace. It must be recovered.”

“Curious,” I interjected. Why have you not recovered this Seal yourself?”

“We cannot,” replied the spider. “We are bound to this layer, yet must protect that which lies within it.”

“Hmmm,” I mused. “Tell me, Flycatcher. Would you recognise the wizard who we seek?”

“We are willing to compact with you,” said the massive spider after a moment’s pause. “We shall allow you to look for the wizard who entered our domain if you recover the seal and bring us the head of Moretto.”

“Deal”, we all agreed.

After a brief discussion, we learned that Allustan had entered the complex using a series of brief transportation and invisibility magics to get past the spiders before going up a short flight of stairs into the Wind Duke’s antechamber.

We agreed that we would follow him after a few hours rest so that we could recover and prepare ourselves for the chase.

Before we rested, I entered a state of communion with the spirits of bards past. As I knelt toying with the frets of my lute, I began to hum an entirely unfamiliar refrain.

_The Warrior of Pesh, 
Lying in state,
Within Chamber of Whispers,
Dark shall he wait.
A rest without dreaming,
His reward well-earned,
Sphere-wielder, oath-maker,
Angel unburned.

This leader unparalleled,
Glorious Icosiel,
‘Neath nest of Shadows,
This defeater of hell.
His tomb now lies buried,
Beside gemstone shores,
Whilst one of the seven,
Lies beyond dark doors.

This weapon of ages,
Broken in ages gone,
Lies guarded alongside,
The angel’s deep tomb.
The Earl of Coalchester,
Bound by elemental oaths,
Now guards his old foeman,
And his treasure trove.
_

.oOo.

We awoke, refreshed, and pushed open the heavy door indicated by the shadow spiders. Within there was a well-crafted statue beneath a shaft of bright light. The statue was that of a sword-armed Wind Duke with one hand over its gemstone eyes. Around the walls were graven images of auran servants who bowed towards this central figure. I mimicked them and muttered something suitably ingratiating in auran, but to my immense relief nothing significant happened.

Looking at the room through my _Clair de Lunettes_, I could see something powerfully magical on either side of the room, which I directed Endo’s attention to.

“Stop!” We all froze at Endo’s command; which seemed to be directed towards Flynne who was already approaching the statue’s sapphire eyes with a dagger outstretched. 

“These two are golems,” explained Endo. “Guardian spirits concealed within the frieze. If the thing they are guarding is disturbed, they could climb out of the wall and wreak terrible vengeance on any thief.”

Flynne’s dagger mysteriously disappeared as he headed towards the other exit to this chamber.

.oOo.

The next room was roughly circular with a set of stairs on the far side. The room was filled with a flickering blue light and a fresh breeze. At the centre of the room stood a massive green gemstone beneath a long needle of grey stone. Within the gemstone was a humanoid figure. 

We had found Allustan.

I immediately stepped into the room, when there was a sudden crash of lightning from the long grey stone point. I felt an agonising stab of pain across my chest before the entire room faded to green.

.oOo.

The next thing that I could remember was an appalling stench of ozone as the green gem collapsed from around myself and Allustan. My comrades charged into the room, snatched us both up and we all ran down the stairs.

Once there, we discussed what had happened. Allustan explained that he had been attacked by a dragon, and had fled into the Whispering Cairn. Utterly outmatched by the dragon’s fury, he had hoped to find some tool sufficient to help him combat it before being trapped within the gemstone. 

We told him of what we had learned about the Worms from Eligos within the Free Cities.

“This is beyond my powers,” muttered the wizard. “You should discuss this with my master Manzurian the Archmage. Return to my home once you have completed your compact with these spiders, and I shall give you instructions how to reach Mage-Point where he resides.”

Unfurling a scroll from his belt, Allustan read briefly, and then disappeared.

.oOo.

At the base of the stairs where we were left was a 40 foot drop at the base of which was a scarlet ringed mosaic on the floor. Metal rungs in the wall led down to the floor, where we could see two narrow corridors leading away from the mosaic. 

Flynne and Maynard both crept down the ladder. Nearing the bottom, Flynne threw himself away into one of the two corridors making sure to avoid the large mosaic. Igmut then called upon the powers of his _Boots of Spider-Climbing_ before walking casually down the wall and hanging up-side down near Flynne. 

Maynard simply stepped onto the scarlet mosaic, and that was the last that I saw of him.

.oOo.

A foot-thick metal panel slammed into place at the top of the ladder-space locking Endo and I away from the others. Dimly, we could hear the muffled sound of rushing water beneath us. 

In a moment of cavalier disregard for our safety, Endo cast a spell and flung us both through a dark doorway into the lightless space below. I clung for dear-life to the metal rungs whilst the sound of raging waters a few feet beneath my feet filled the cavern with tremendous noise. 

Scrabbling for the catch on my pack, I removed a couple of sunrods and struck them against the wall. They burst into light which was suddenly blinding in the small shaft. Beneath Endo and I, I could see thick opaque red-coloured waters running in a torrent through one of the narrow corridors before it changed direction and poured off down the second. I dropped one of the sunrods, and within an instant the fast flow of the waters whisked the glowing light away from us. 

A few feet above me, Endo clutched at a golden charm bracelet at his wrist, removing a tiny golden grappling iron and a miniature coil of golden rope. Muttering to them, they attached smoothly, and grew to ‘normal’ size where he affixed the hook to one of the ladder-rungs and dropped the remainder of the rope down into the churning waters beneath us. 

In an instant, partly holding the rope and partly still sticking to the wall, Igmut hauled himself out of the maelstrom and started to haul on the rope.

Endo chanted and began to change. He warped and grew into the form of a massive squid, squeezing past me to drop into the furious waters. I tried to help Igmut haul in our friends on the rope, but when we raised the last of it out it was empty. 

A red surge came from within the water as one of Endo’s massive squid-tentacles burst from the surface, flinging a yelling Flynne upwards through the shaft before it disappeared beneath the surface again. Flynne inscribed an almost perfect arc in the air before me, snatching vainly at the ladder before falling back towards the red water once again. 

An instant before he hit the surface, Igmut grabbed him firmly by the forearm and hauled him back on the ladder, as Endo-the-Squid dove back under the water and swam away with the current.

As to Maynard, he was missing within the churning waters.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Being battered by torrents of blood red water, in the dark, in a constricted space, towards an unknown destination...

What could improve a situation like that?

A Giant Squidy trying to grab you, of course! 


Thanks for the writeup there Mr Eccles... another fine piece of work! 

Had some rules fun with that. 

Torrent of rushing water VS Spider Climb + Freedom of Movement.


----------



## Darmanicus

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> Being battered by torrents of blood red water, in the dark, in a constricted space, towards an unknown destination...
> 
> What could improve a situation like that?
> 
> A Giant Squidy trying to grab you, of course!
> 
> 
> Thanks for the writeup there Mr Eccles... another fine piece of work!
> 
> Had some rules fun with that.
> 
> Torrent of rushing water VS Spider Climb + Freedom of Movement.




Oi, there's nothing like a bit of 8 armed luvin


----------



## Eccles

I'm happy clinging to the ladder above the water. 

(To the readers - Maynard got swept downstream and shot out over a crevasse like a cork from a bottle. Endo (in giant squid form) voluntarily swam out of the tunnel after him).

Maynard desperately fending off the tentacles from the pursuing giant squid all the way, of course. 

Oh, and Maynard has 'slow fall'.


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Oh, and Maynard has 'slow fall'.




Does that mean that a few hundred pounds of calamari lands on Maynard.......ouch?


----------



## Tamlyn

Please sir, may I have some more?


----------



## Eccles

As Igmut, Flynne and I clung to the ladder, the rushing red waters beneath us showed no sign of abating. After waiting for a while, Igmut shouted over the sound of the rushing waters that he had seen a waterfall at the end of the tunnel. Swiftly, he tied a rope around his waist and dived in, clutching a scroll tube we had given him with swift (if simple) instructions.

After a while, the rope went limp, and Flynne and I hauled in the scroll tube; it was empty. This was our agreed signal that there was nothing there, and so I smirked at Flynne and simply let go of the ladder.

The red water was bitterly cold and extremely salty. I lost my bearings in an instant as I tumbled through the blood-like water before bursting into the open where I began to fall. 

My plan was simple, and I began trying to speak the words of an easy spell which would let me fall. However, with the darkness and the sudden falling, I found myself tumbling madly through the darkness. I tried to draw breath, but instead inhaled a lungful of the red water. 

Choking, I crashed onto a stone shelf, landing atop Maynard. Cracking open another sunrod, I could see Flynne climbing out of the torrential waterflow on a rope. He untied himself and scrambled down to join us on our ledge before Maynard began to climb down further into the crevasse, banging in a series of pitons as he went. 

Igmut, muttering about his foresight at obtaining a _Cloak of Spider-climbing_, followed Maynard down the rough wall, where we could dimly see a blood-red lake on a ledge, ringed with tiny white spiders. 

As Igmut moved past Maynard, he was struck with a sudden shower of crossbow bolts as 6 floating figures suddenly appeared from the darkness around him and fired with pinpoint accuracy. I could see few of the details, but heard his bellow of pain and the sudden movement as he and Maynard began to scramble back up the cliff-wall towards us. As they climbed, they were followed by a group of 6 ghostly wind-warriors. They fired a volley of shots which slammed into Maynard.

“Peace,” shouted Endo in the auran language, but it had no effect whatsoever beyond a response of “You shall not pass”.

Flynne then began to fire down at the armoured-flying figures whilst I cast a spell of sound manipulation, remembering that they had in the past clanged their swords together to create some kind of sonic assault. Endo fired his crossbow, and as Maynard and Igmut climbed towards us, the wind-warriors faded away into the darkness. 

.oOo.

Bereft of any immediate threat, we discussed our options. After a while, it was decided that I would cast a spell of invisibility on Endo, and Igmut would give him the ability to walk on air so that the wizard could explore the cavern. 

After a few moments, he returned to our ledge, cast a number of spells in the darkness, and then left again. 

He returned after 3 or 4 minutes, at which point he explained that there were a series of cracks 847 feet below “and about 28 feet to the left”, and then 100 feet beneath these fissures in the cavern wall, the wind warriors were hovering in the air simply waiting for us. 

I cast a more powerful spell, transporting all of us except Endo down to these fissures in an instant, and he rejoined us. (The powers of my spell being insufficient to carry all of us). Once there, we prepared for the upcoming combat. Several of the others drank potions of flight, and I turned several of them invisible before _hasting_ them.

I remained in the crevice above the fight, assisting my friends with the use of a wand of _Magic Missiles_, whilst lightning crackled brightly in the darkness below me. Bowshots were fired, shuriken flew through the air and Igmut stabbed deeply with his longspear – two of the six wind warriors disappeared before they even knew we were upon them. 

As Endo wreathed one of the survivors with his ripping and tearing spirits, the air-warriors brought their swords to bear and clanged them together. Two of them fired waves of sound at Igmut, but the other two looked deeply surprised when their swords crashed together with the sound of bells – my spell had taken effect and ruined much of the power of their attack. 

A third of the flying elementals faded at the point of Igmut’s spear and he pulled his sword from its scabbard and turned to face the other three which charged towards him. They had barely reached him before Flynne shot one of them to pieces. Maynard and Igmut pounded and hacked the two to shreds, and they simply faded away.

.oOo.

I was given a lift down the side of the cliff by the still-flying Maynard, and we descended through a pink mist besides a vast volume of thundering red waters at the bottom of the crevasse. 

We settled on a ridge to one side of a vast cavern whose ceiling was lined with flickering crystals. To one end of the cavern we could see a green glow at the edge of the vast red lake. Flynne crept off towards the light, and when he returned with the news of a single figure holding a lantern, we all approached. 

As we got close, the tall pale figure looked up.

“You’re all wet.” Reaching around to where a large pack lay on the floor nearby, he pulled a large white fluffy item from it.

“Towel?”
“You Moretto?”
“Ah,” the figure replied to Igmut’s question. “You have heard of me?”
“Yeah. The big hairy spiders want their symbol back.”

As a small black bat fluttered onto Moretto’s shoulder and he began to feed it from a mixed bag of insects and fungus pieces, the ghoul looked up at us and gave us a dilemma.

“If you help me reach the sky, I’ll give you the symbol.”

We looked at one another with some trepidation, as the tall flawless-faced ghoul told us of his past; that he had been exiled from the White Kingdom of the ghouls, deep in the underdark. He had found a series of prophecies in the deepest darkness which mentioned ‘Dragotha’, an undead dragon who was to rise and bring on “a time of writhing decay.”

The rulers of the White Kingdom were uninterested, and had apparently branded Moretto a heretic and expelled him from his position as the ‘Marquis of Ravenstone’. 

After a long discussion, we eventually agreed that we could work together to uncover the secrets of the Seal of Law. After a while, I cast a spell of discovering secrets upon the cavern, learning that I should look “Above the cascade and bear the seal”. 

.oOo.

Having climbed back up the cavern and held the Seal of Law just above every large cascade en route, we eventually reached a ledge just above the largest of the waterfalls where a large portal began to glow with a light matching that which sprang up around the Seal of Law. 

We pushed open this magically appearing portal, and stepped into a roughly finished stone chamber with a massive 50 foot tall set of metallic doors on the far side. Flynne pulled out his set of lock-picking tools and set out towards the door but stopped suddenly some 20 feet away; apparently fighting some magical power which took effect on him even despite the properties of the Champion’s Belt which he was wearing. 

As the rest of us drew closer to the doors, we registered two things – firstly that the doors were covered in a series of runes in aquan. There was a large symbol which was instantly recognisable as Icosiel’s personal glyph, together with a series of curses against Chaos, and the words “dare not enter the tomb of Icosiel, wandering duke of the waters and bearer of the Rod of Law”. 

Secondly, Igmut was also unable to approach the door, although Moretto had no such restriction. 

“Aqua, Icosiel, Pesh,” came Moretto’s ringing voice from beside us and the two large doors swung silently open.

.oOo.

Within, there was a large chamber whose floor dropped abruptly away from us towards a cracking light-blue cloudlike substance. The sounds of wind and lightning crackled around the room.

Rising from this there were a series of pillars, each slightly taller than another, though the third in line seemed to reach to the ceiling. One beyond that seemed to have a tar-like substance, whilst another rotated gently in space. Each of the pillars was 5-10 feet apart. 

Maynard tossed a pebble down, and it fell – we heard nothing to indicate that it might hit anything. The monk passed Igmut one end of a rope, then took a few paces back and leapt lightly onto the first of the columns. Nothing happened, and so he leapt to the second, and then the third. His outstretched arms looked to grab onto the sides of this exceptionally tall pillar, but he simply vanished into the centre of the column – it was an illusion. 

A few seconds later, we could see Maynard jumping out of the column and onto the next, which was rotating but seemed to cause the nimble monk no difficulties whatsoever. 

The next pillar was the one covered in tar, and Maynard tested this by tossing a coin onto it; the small piece of brass glided neatly over the pillar and then slid straight over it into the miasma below. Not put off in the slightest, Maynard leapt the 9 feet onto the pillar, slid a short distance and fell. 

He twisted in the air and snatched the column, climbing back up onto the tarry surface and looked around. He seemed to be faced with a choice – there was a lighter coloured pillar in front of him, and a slightly thicker pillar off to his left. The monk chose, and leapt the ten foot gap to the light coloured pillar, which crumbled to dust in an instant. Maynard fell swiftly, and the rope in Igmut’s hands snapped taught. The monk swung gracefully through the air, inscribing a neat parabola at the end of the long rope before he slammed with a bone-shaking crunch into the wall beneath us, only a few short feet above the crackling blue substance.

We hauled him up, dusted him off, and turned him back towards the pillars.


----------



## godfear

Ossum.

You guys playing tonight?


----------



## Morrus

godfear said:
			
		

> Ossum.
> 
> You guys playing tonight?




Indeed we are.


----------



## godfear

Update?


----------



## Eccles

We stood at the lip of the deep room staring at the seven pillars; after a few seconds we were slightly surprised by Flynne pushing Maynard to one side and announcing “Right! My turn to have a go!”

He leapt nimbly up across the pillars, diving onto the first, then the second. He ignored the illusion and landed neatly on the centre of the third pillar, bouncing onwards to the rotating fourth. Not phased by this, he leapt onwards to the dark grease-covered pillar where he was not phased in the slightest by the slippery surface. 

He paused at this stage and looked around. To his left there was a larger pillar, whilst ahead of him was a gap where one of the pillars had crumbled beneath Maynard. Flynne flexed his muscles and then simply leapt the long distance to the ledge at the end of the chamber. He fell slightly short, but easily stretched out and grabbed the ledge.

Almost immediately, there was a sudden burst of lightning around the walls and a tremendous gale whipped up out of nowhere. He twisted to avoid the bolt of lightning but released his grip on the stone. The tremendous winds blew him in a mad tumble of limbs. He was hurled through the air and slammed solidly into one of the pillars, which he grabbed by reflex. 

As the wind died down, he climbed up onto the largest of the pillars, which he looked at briefly and shouted out to us.

“Here,” he called. “There’s a gap in this one. Looks like it ought to fit the Seal of Law. Bung it over!”

At Maynard’s request, Moretto passed over the Seal, and the monk leapt from pillar to pillar planning to join Flynne. However, as the nimble monk reached the greased pillar and simply slid straight off it. Gripping the rope, he inscribed a perfect parabola through the air and slammed heavily into the wall some 40 feet beneath our feet. Lightning slammed into his chest to devastating effect, and we hauled madly on the ropes to pull him in before the wind could grow too strong.

After a period of healing, Maynard leapt across the pillars once again, grimly clutching his safety rope once again. He simply bypassed the slippery pillar and jumped over to the largest pillar where he slotted the Seal of Law into the hole. There was a sudden grinding noise and the large pillar started to rotate and rise into the air.

As Flynne leapt away onto the ledge, Maynard scrabbled at the Seal, and hauled it out of the pillar which suddenly stopped its ascent, and began to glide back down again.

Curious, I looked up at the ceiling above Maynard, and realised that the stone directly over his head was entirely illusionary. I was explaining this to Endo and Igmut whilst Flynne, on the other side of the chamber, banged on the iron-clad doorway.

“It’s fake,” he announced to the rest of us. 

Endo began to ask whether anyone had a potion of flight he could borrow, before realising that he could walk on air. The rest of us were still deeply concerned that we would not be able to leap across the many pillars, so Flynne started to weave a series of ropes together trying to make a simple bridge of some kind. 

For his part, Igmut stomped back to the cavern and found a rock with a small spider on it. He cast a spell of light upon the rock, and then began to read to the spider from ‘Kord’s Bumper-Fun Book of Strength’. 

Across the chamber, Flynne’s heath-robinson rope-bridge finally held after three attempts and three plunges into the cavern where he was saved only by his quick reflexes.

Bored, Endo had started discussing legends with Moretto, the ghoul was looking extremely frustrated and irritated. Igmut was still working through some of the longer words in his scripture whilst an impromptu rope-knitting circle had broken out between Flynne and Maynard. 

After some time of this, Flynne leapt back to join the rest of us and began to hammer pitons into the wall. Jumping back to the first ledge, he mis-judged it, but was able to climb back up. The crudely-woven bridge settled like a cap across the closest pillar. Although the rope-bridge appeared to hold, we all pulled back to the edge of the crevasse whilst Endo decided to short-cut the whole arrangement.

Relying on the powers of Igmut’s wind-walking spell, and a second spell to protect him from electricity, he stepped into the air between the pillars and hung there for a second. Grinning broadly, he turned to face the rest of us.

“You see,” he crowed. “There’s nothing - URK!”

Abruptly, the entire room was entirely filled with blasts of lightning, and winds tore across the room hurling him away from us. His rope, somehow severed cleanly, flew after him, whilst from the mist at the base of the pillars hurtled two massive air elementals, one of which smashed into the mage and sent him spinning, whilst the second simply enveloped him in the form of a huge tornado and dragged him downwards through the mists and lightning at tremendous speed.

With an abrupt flash of light, a severely injured Endo materialised behind us, and we all backed cautiously out of the room. When we returned after a spell of rest, the two elementals had gone. As we had rested, Flynne had comprehensively re-knitted his rope bridge and managed to test it between a couple of boulders outside the room. The ‘bridge’ was almost a solid lump of knotted rope. 

.oOo.

Upon our return to the chamber, we decided not to use the rope bridge, and Endo cast a spell of _dimension door_ to transport us all. The black portal opened simultaneously in front of us and on the pillar, and as Igmut stepped into it, he appeared to be grabbed by a series of spectral arms and thrown through the black door onto the pillar. We each followed, and stood shoulder to shoulder on the narrow chunk of stone as Maynard placed the seal into place.

The pillar lurched as it started to rise, and Endo yelled in surprise as he fell off. I cast a spell to slow his fall, and Flynne hurled a line towards the slowly falling wizard, but the rope went wide. As Endo sank slowly into the fog and faded from sight we could see lightning rolling in the fog. With another flash, Endo stood with us once more, covered in flash-marks and stinking of smoke and ozone. We rose gently through the illusory ceiling and Flynne wailed in fear as we passed close to the ‘stone’.

I’m not sure whether he was joking or not.

.oOo.

We found ourselves in a modestly sized but very tall room lit by a series of rainbow coloured lanterns. In the centre of the room a stone sarcophagus floated some 10 feet off the ground. The walls were carved with the intricate pattern of a funeral procession, with the figures all heading towards a golden doorway at one end of the room.

Abruptly, before we could take our bearings properly, three lines of grey energy lashed out from the darkness at the far end of the room. Endo, Igmut and Moretto were all struck causing my two friends to shake as their life-energies were sapped from them. Moretto simply grinned in apparent pleasure.

With the attack complete, our attacker was revealed to us as is spell of invisibility faded. Standing 8 feet tall and winged, the powerfully-built and nimble demonic figure clutched a dark sword tightly. The figure was covered head to foot with eyeballs which were set into its skin blinking in ripples at us. Eyeballs set into its feet were heard to squelch and pop as it stepped out to face us.

.oOo.

Going first as always, Flynne fired a volley of arrows, all of which went wide as the creature moved almost faster than we could follow. Endo cast a spell of blinding at the beast, but it simply laughed off the spell, saying “your puny mortal magics will not affect me.”

Igmut stepped forwards and took cover near the sarcophagus. The creature cast a spell of its own, and suddenly split into 8 identical creatures blasting more of the grey bolts at Flynne and myself. We both shivered at the effects of the bolts, which made me feel instantly cold and bilious, although not sick enough to stop me singing an enthusing chant to my colleagues.

Maynard dashed forwards and struck the beast once, and at that point Moretto acted. He chanted the words to a powerful attacking spell, and then turned and flung a line of lightning at Endo and I. He cackled and drew his greatsword, but his laughter was shortlived as Flynne turned and fired a salvo of arrows into his corpse-like chest. 

Endo dashed away towards Igmut, but a few feet from him he stiffened and froze. Igmut simply turned and cast a spell which allowed the mage to move freely again at which point yet more of the grey beams slammed into the others before swinging his baleful longsword repeatedly at Maynard instantly slashing three deep injuries into his torso.

I stepped away from the traitorous ghoul and cast a spell of hastening, whilst Maynard produced and flung a series of shuriken at the 8 identical demons. Incredibly only one of the images was shattered, but three of the throwing stars bounced off the armoured demon’s tough hide. 

Moretto produced and triggered a wand striking Igmut with a still darker ray of negative energy draining him horribly of his life energies. Flynne responded for us by pinning the ghoul to the wall with a series of arrows. 

Freed from the demon’s paralysis, Endo cast a spell on Igmut, and he was transformed in an instant into a massive saggy-breasted rotten-fleshed annis hag, and he strode towards the demon swinging his now huge sword through one of the images.

Three dark rays struck Igmut, then he was also struck with three sword blows and a slash from the beast’s claws. The sword blows simply clanged off his heavy armour, and the claws scraped down his side.

I sang again, enthusing Igmut and Maynard, who flung another handful of shuriken into the many remaining demons, scraping the real one and destroying two more images. Flynne’s three arrows only managed to shatter one of the few images, as well as scrape another light injury to the thing’s shoulder. 

Igmut’s massive sword smashed an image, then wounded the beast. Another sword blow destroyed the last image, and then carved a further injury into it, but the spell from the half-orc’s magic blade had no effect on the magic resistant creature.

Not magic immune, however, as Endo’s spell crashed through whatever protections it had and drained it of strength and power. The beast responded by striking three eye rays into Igmut, draining away the resistance I had just given him with my song. However, the three sword-strokes and claw-swipe clattered off his heavy armour. 

My spell to turn Flynne invisible had no appreciable effect, but whilst Maynard slammed several solid blows into the demon, Flynne’s arrows didn’t have any serious effect.

Igmut’s heavy greatsword, however, raised and fell repeatedly into the demon cleaving into the beast’s heart. It slumped to the ground and burst into a thousand grey lines of negativity striking us all and weakening each of us.

The beast, however, was slain, and we made certain that Moretto was as well by beheading him. 

.oOo.

Noting a space in the side of the sarcophagus, Maynard inserted the Seal of Law once more, and the huge stone block lowered gently to the ground and the solid lid simply faded away to nothingness revealing ashes and dust. I could feel a strange humming from where the Rod of Control lay concealed in my sleeve – the short rod was positively vibrating with power and potency; it had been activated by something within the sarcophagus.

“I am Icosiel,” came a voice. We whirled to see the figure of a 7 foot tall bald figure holding a greatsword. The figure was made of dust and light over where the ‘oculus demon’ had died. 

“Do not fear,” continued the voice. The prophecies foretold your coming. You must defeat Kyuss and save the world. You have my blessing as I send you on your way.”

With a gesture, the figure directed our attention back into the casket, where we could see several items; a length of a broken staff, a sword and a ring. 

The figure gestured again, and the room faded from our sight. We found ourselves standing on the edge of Diamond Lake, next to the still-damp corpse of the black dragon we had slain only three days before.

.oOo.

Walking back to the town, we spoke to Allustan who seemed utterly exasperated. He seemed completely out of his depth. He suggested that we speak to his mentor, Manzorian the archmage of Mage Point, perhaps a thousand miles to the north. He cast a spell to send a message to his mentor before warning us of the powers of the Rod Maynard was carrying – it was a seventh, perhaps the greatest part, of the Rod of Seven Parts. The next largest piece was held by Viskianix the pit fiend, who would no doubt be interested in acquiring the remainder…


----------



## Eccles

godfear said:
			
		

> Update?




There ya go. Just took a while to type up...


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> There ya go. Just took a while to type up...




Good session and finally a load of good loot.

I think when we finally distributed it Flynne, (as per usual), got most of the decent stuff    Maynard ended up with Icosiels sword which has some funky powers and I ended up with the part of the rod. Oh, I got the second part of a series of necromantic books which are quite funky, (splat book split into 3 sections for gaming purposes......1-3, 4-6 & 7-9 lv spells game wise. There's only a few spells in there that are any good for a non-evil character however it's a one of a kind thing so who cares).

And just when we thought we were safe after all that at the end of the session..........


----------



## Darmanicus

7 hours til @ss kickin time


----------



## Morrus

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> 7 hours til @ss kickin time




Whose ass?


----------



## Darmanicus

Morrus said:
			
		

> Whose ass?




Errr, that'll be yours then!


----------



## godfear

Eccles said:
			
		

> There ya go. Just took a while to type up...




Worth. The. Wait.

You guys rock!


----------



## Morrus

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> Errr, that'll be yours then!




I'm sorry, but which group of so-called "heroes" ran away crying like babies this evening?


----------



## Eccles

Morrus said:
			
		

> I'm sorry, but which group of so-called "heroes" ran away crying like babies this evening?




What? Conning the vicious CENSORED CENSORED into leaving us well alone for a while ain't good enough for you?

And frankly, retreating to a safe distance at that point just made good sense. We may have over-estimated what a safe distance actually was under the circumstances, but still...


----------



## Darmanicus

Morrus said:
			
		

> I'm sorry, but which group of so-called "heroes" ran away crying like babies this evening?




That's the last time when we are about to prepare for an inevitable conflict that we feel sorry for you and conceed to NOT moving to a much better tactical spot because of your "lovingly prepared map I just drew for you guys"!


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Hehe - we may have underestimated the devils - that was one horrendous encounter!

I thought we were doing fantastically well to run away (bravely).

TBH, it was fun getting kicked around the block a few times.

And think the 'saving the day medal' goes to Evan - our fantastic bard... a proper use for that silly high bluff skill!


----------



## Darmanicus

Just for the record.......

Our Cleric of Kord was entertaining the idea of handing over our part of the rod to LAWFUL devils, yes that's right LAWFUL!!!! and DEVILS!!!!

In fact he was giving me s**t about not doing so!!!

Bad Cleric!

Anyways, get writing Eccles.

P.S. and next time Mr Morrus it aint gonna be so pretty for those devils and we certainly are NOT gonna fight in an enclosed space for reasons Mr Eccles will hopefully write about shortly!


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

What's wrong with turning over the disgusting lawful artefact to the horrible lawful devils?

It'd be nearly as good as disposing of the item responsibly (i.e.throwing the wretched thing into the sea). And I'm sure it'd have no unwanted side effects further down the line either way.   


Well, figure the devil fight stuff depends how much of a drop they get on us? Think we should strongly consider living in a forbiddance.


----------



## Eccles

We decided to take a few days to rest and re-equip before setting out for mage Point, and this meant that Endo and I went on a couple of teleported trips to the Free City to both sell and buy equipment. 

The pair of us spent quite a time casting further enchantments on our equipment, and with Igmut’s help Endo was able to make more wands of healing.

We met every evening at the Feral Dog where we discussed what we might see once we travelled to Mage Point, and how we would best get there. 

“What _is_ it?” demanded Endo of Flynne who was fidgeting and scratching between his shoulder blades.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “The last couple of days at this time I’ve been feeling like… well, like I’ve got a bullseye on my back or something.”

Endo blanched and almost immediately cast another teleportation spell. He was back within the hour clutching several scrolls and a number of jars of costly looking inks. Barely pausing, he spread one of the scrolls on the table, and began to write.

.oOo.

The next day at the same time, we were again in the taproom of the Feral Dog but somewhat better prepared. Endo and Igmut had both cast a series of spells, and just as the first of the mining regulars had returned early to their bunks for the night I crept to the back of the inn and turned myself invisible with a spell of my own.

At four minutes past seven, Flynne again reached for his shoulders to itch, but then Endo blanched visibly. His mouth opened, seemingly beyond his own control and his eyes sprang open with a blazing red light. 

“I am Viskaniax,” he bellowed in a voice that was not his own. “And I have you now!”

.oOo.

Endo shook his head and his eyes returned to normal, whilst from the far side of the bar there came a pair of whip-crack noises. Two dark-skinned fanged and scaled figures stood there surveying the bar. As the regulars screamed and ran from the bar, the two devils twisted sinuously, treating us all to a view of their long spiked tails and barbed flesh. One of them twitched slightly as Flynne’s arrows slammed into the wall around it, and the single arrow which struck true seemed to cause the devil no difficulties whatsoever.

A series of whip-crack noises resounded through the bar. We all looked around trying in vain to see what had just teleported in, but couldn’t see anything. Suddenly my view of the rest of the bar was obscured in an instant by a pair of thick walls of ice. I was locked in a small corner of the bar together with Endo and Maynard. Seconds later, two massive boney devils materialised in the corner of the room with us; one still gesturing at the wall of ice, whilst the second hacked with claws and massive stinger at Maynard. I could hear Flynne yelling in surprise from beyond one of the walls suggesting that another of the devils was attacking him at the same time. 

Maynard’s rapid series of punches and kicks had absolutely no effect on the bone devil, and it and the other looming beast responded by stabbing out at the monk once more. Still invisible, and within inches of one of the hulking bone monstrosities, I whispered the words of a spell of hasting, which only had an effect on Maynard, Endo and myself. 

The closer of the two bone-devils cast a spell of its own, sending a green ray slamming into Endo’s chest which then branched out and sealed him tightly in a green web of energy. As the web faded into his skin, he yelled out “Dimensional Anchor. I can’t teleport out!”

The shout of “Give us the Rod and we’ll let you live” came in a roar from one of the devils beyond the ice wall.

Endo responded with the words of a spell of his own, gesturing at the two devils and sweeping his arms together. As he did so, a huge arc of electricity leapt from one devil to the other, and Maynard followed the spell up by pummelling the more injured of the two, to almost no effect whatsoever. 

From the other side of the wall of ice I could see a number of roaring orange glows as some powerful series of fire-spells shot forth. I could hear Igmut yelling in pain and then shout “I don’t have it!”

.oOo.

There was a smashing noise as someone or something shattered a large hole in another of the ice walls. Two pairs of running feet could be heard as Igmut and Flynne made a break for freedom. 

Seconds later, I was wracked with pain as a third demon part-materialised around me before its spell failed and it teleported away again. 

The two bone devils continued their violent assault on Endo and Maynard. Each was stabbed with the long stinger at the end of the devils’ tails; Maynard seemed to completely shrug off whatever venom was contained in it, but Endo paled visibly. Looking around the room, Maynard realised that he was flanked and already heavily wounded. He turned and dashed towards the shuttered lead-glass window.

WHACK!

For a brief second, the monk was spreadeagled flat upon the shutters before he slid gently down to the floor having left not a single scratch on the window itself. Endo backed away from the window, instead sending his raven familiar fluttering between the outstretched claws of the two devils to peck at Maynard, whose shoulders abruptly broadened and widened. His skin darkened as he assumed the hulking form of an annis hag almost six inches away from me.

Yelling in some surprise, I triggered the powers of my new magical ring. I found myself standing some sixty feet outside of the bar. I turned on the spot to see that the wall and window which Maynard had just run into had been reduced to smoking rubble in my path. Maynard was unharmed, but the damage had also crashed through the more injured of the two devils leaving it with further damage. 

From the far side of the inn came a heavy crashing noise accompanied by a yell of triumph from Igmut. Maynard continued to flail out within the ruined portion of the inn, but suddenly all sound and light were sucked from the wreckage as Endo managed to cast a truly abysmal dark spell. The flames guttered and died as the mage dragged power from his surroundings and dragged much of the strength ought of one of the two demons still attacking him. 

As if in response, a series of fiery flashes loomed large from the far side of the inn, and a strangled yell of pain from Flynne was abruptly cut short. Igmut bellowed in fury at enemies I could not see form my position.

I slightly adjusted the details of my _hat of disguise_ and dashed towards the inn and into the sight of the demons there. I raised the most powerful item I could find; the Rod of Control, which I had altered to look like the splintered section of the Rod of Seven Parts. 

“You want it,” I yelled at the top of my voice. “Come and get it! I will leave your precious Rod in the Whispering Cairn.” Gesturing, I stepped through a glowing doorway away from the inn and vanished from them.

.oOo.

From my position within the upper floors of a nearby building, I watched as the devils vanished, blinking away from their positions one after the next. As the last turned away from the fray, Maynard grabbed him by the head and twisted sharply. There was a loud cracking noise, and the demon slumped to the floor. We gathered quickly near the wreckage of Endo’s mother’s house, and Igmut cast a spell to transport us all to a place of safety. 

We spent a pleasant balmy night on another plane of existence, under strange stars amidst unfamiliar trees, interrupted only once by a unicorn as it walked through our glade utterly unconcerned by the strangers surrounding it. 

The next day, spells prepared and readied as far as we were able, we transferred back to our home world. As the bright lights made us all blink, we absorbed as much as we could with our other senses. 

First came the stench, which was appalling, accompanied by terrible sucking mud as slime or muck dragged at our feet. Then the movement, as heavy bodies began to brush and push against us grunting and squealing. 

“Get out of there,” came a rough yell. 

Blinking in the light, we squinted towards the voice; a smock-clad straw-hat-wearing farmer leaned on a pitchform staring at us in some confusion as we blinked around us from the centre of the man’s pig-pen. 

I grinned broadly at him and stepped forwards through the thick stinking mud.

“Good day, my dear fellow,” I beamed at him. I vaulted the wall to the pen and gestured at the mud clinging to my legs causing it to spontaneously leap two inches away from my clothes and body before introducing us all to him with a series of fulsome compliments of his farmstead as I did so.

Within a few minutes, we were enjoying rich bacon sandwiches before the farmer’s fire, learning that we were some 300 miles from Mage Point. Leaving a few handfuls of coins secreted around the man’s house, we turned towards the sunrise and Endo cast his latest spell. Five large black horses were summoned into being, hooves of smoke stamping and nostrils of fire flaring as they looked around.

We rode the phenomenally fast horses eastwards for several hours, before we found ourselves overlooking the lakeside village of Mage Point where the sinister steeds were accepted without comment. Within the centre of the pale blue lake was a small island, with a tall blue castle standing proudly atop it. A 20 foot wide stone causeway led across the lake. 

In the village we encountered many villagers, who were polite, clean and supremely confident in their abilities. Many of them openly wore weapons or the hallmarks of spellcasters, and the shops and inns around the village were of an immensely high standard.

We learned quickly that the mage Manzorian was off the material plane, but knew that we were intending to visit him. To this end, he had paid for us to stay at the excellent hostelry called the All Seeing Eye. The inn was a massive place, boasting suite after suite of rooms, a ballroom and meeting rooms, and to our delight and immense relief the entire building was warded from scrying. We were safe, at least for the time being, from the devil Viskaniax’s spells of finding. 

That evening we encountered two familiar faces; Celeste the elven woman who had sponsored us in the Free Cities Championship, who took us to a meeting room where we encountered Eligos, fully recovered from his recent death and resurrection. 

The two of them introduced us to Chimry, representative of Manzorian.

We were open and honest with Chimry, telling him what we had achieved and learned, and also that we were being pursued by devils because of what we were carrying. 

“You have no need to fear,” replied Chimry. “Not here, at least.”

We relaxed, breathed easy, and settled down to enjoy Mage Point for such time as Manzorian might take to return to the village.


----------



## Eccles

There we go. That's 16 months (or thereabouts) since I posted the first of these. So the campaign's a year and a third old. Yay us!

Also, Flynne, Igmut and I have all reached level 12, with Endo and Maynard chasing hard!


----------



## godfear

Eccles said:
			
		

> Also, Flynne, Igmut and I have all reached level 12, with Endo and Maynard chasing hard!




Rogue Gallery Updates to follow? : )


----------



## Darmanicus

godfear said:
			
		

> Rogue Gallery Updates to follow? : )




Can be found here

Well mine can at least.


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Also, Flynne, Igmut and I have all reached level 12, with Endo and Maynard chasing hard!




I'm not chasing that hard, keep getting distracted by making magical kit  

And whilst it annoys me that Morrus won't give me loads of crafting time I secretly thank him for not allowing me to spend all my xp. I think I'd still be about 5th level if he did


----------



## Quartz

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> And whilst it annoys me that Morrus won't give me loads of crafting time I secretly thank him for not allowing me to spend all my xp.




Hmm.. if I'd taken crafting feats and were not allowed to use tyhem, I'd want to swap them.


----------



## Darmanicus

Quartz said:
			
		

> Hmm.. if I'd taken crafting feats and were not allowed to use tyhem, I'd want to swap them.




Don't get me wrong, I get to use them however we get limits.

I'm just greedy and want to craft stuff for everyone.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

I've updated Igmut as well. Although the character sheet isn't in front of me, so won't be 100% correct.


That ambush was brutal! 

The cry of triumph was Flynne and myself catching one hapless devil in a cleric + rogue sandwich. Thusly killing the evil out of it. Still, the 4 that ran out after it didn't seem impressed. 

Getting shot to pieces with scorching rays = painful! Must remember fire resistance.


----------



## Darmanicus

I personally thought it was me draining 16 strength out of one of the devils however unfortunately the crit doesn't work on that spell otherwise it would have been 32 strength 

And I would have drained the light from the continent for about 2 seconds


----------



## Eccles

There we go. I just updated Evan in the other thread, too.

I have too many skills...


----------



## Eccles

Going to be rather delayed in updating for a couple of good reasons...

1. I'm moving house this week and have got *lots* of other stuff to occupy my time.
2. Morrus and Igmut are both in the US at Gencon for a fortnight, so there's not going to be an update for a while - might as well space it out for you all!

Oh, and here's a link to his blog whilst he's out there...


----------



## Eccles

Whilst we waited in Mage Point for Cymria to contact us, we spent a lot of time in the taproom of the inn. Whilst there, we encountered a number of interesting and entertaining figures, many of whom were looking to hire a group of skilled adventurers with time on their hands.

There was a dwarven fighter clad in layer upon layer of armour, trying to find a band insane enough to want to confront a nest of demons occupying Hellspike Prison. Shuddering, we left this well enough alone after our recent encounter with the denizens of hell.

I discussed possible places for warehousing with a trader who was interested in setting up a route of trade between Mage Point and the Free City, and he was sufficiently delighted with my suggestions to offer my comrades and myself a substantial discount in future. 

A third potential employer was looking for a band prepared to free part of his ancestral forests from a green dragon which had already feasted on a small pack of pixies. He was offering 10,000 gold pieces for the head of the dragon. 

The last potential employer was the garrison commander for Mage Point, who was interested in our transporting a message to a man in the Free Cities named Thomas Thomason. 

Believing that this would be an easy way to pick up the 500 gold and still have time to consider fighting the dragon in the afternoon, we prepared, picked up a small purse for delivering a message for the trader into the Free City as well, and then Endo teleported us to the road outside the mansion house which we had rented a few weeks previously. 

Once we had arrived, I immediately stepped through a dimensional door of my own to deliver the trader’s message, then invisibly stepped through a second onto the roof of the inn my comrades were headed for.

A few minutes later, I dropped down from the roof as gently as a feather to land behind them and followed them into the inn. 

All sound stopped abruptly as we entered; two drow and a troll amongst others turned to face us as we strolled in. We approached the bar, and after ordering some brackish yellowed water for the monk and ales for the rest of us, a small handful of gold gave us the location of Thomason. We headed through the back of the bar and up the narrow stairs, where (after Flynne hammered on his door for a few moments), the sallow-faced Thomason snatched the sealed message out of my hand and slammed the door once again.

Shrugging, we headed back down the stairs into the common room of the inn. As we reached the foot of the stairs, the main door slammed open before us and 8 blue-robed people rushed into the room blocking the entrance completely.

“Halt,” called out the tallest, who held a short wooden rod in one hand. “You are under arrest. You are charged with facilitating spying.”

At the same time, two more of the blue-robed figures dragged a dazed-looking Thomason down the stairs, one of whom was clutching the note which we had just delivered.

“The note is what we were expecting, sir,” reported one of the two newcomers. “They have delivered the message and are clearly in league with the traitors.”

Recognising the blue-clad figures as agents of the Circle of Eight, I started to try to explain, smugly mentioning that we would hand ourselves in to Manzorian.

“You will get no closer to Manzorian than you are now,” cried the leader. “Men! Destroy them!”

He raised his hands and started to cast a spell but Flynne was swifter. Four arrows flew across the room in swift succession, pinning the mage’s arms solidly to the door before, with a gesture, Endo cast his spell of teleportation and we vanished from the room. 

.oOo.

Upon our return to Mage Point, I used a scroll to send a small bird with a messenger to Cymria, Manzorian’s elven assistant who we had met previously. 3 hours later, she returned to the inn. 

We were honest with her about the troubles we had gotten into with the Circle of Eight, and the possibility that the town’s chief enforcer was in league with traitors and assassins. She asked us to deal with the situation ‘discreetly’ before she vanished.

Seconds later, she reappeared in our midst looking pleased and expectant.

“Manzorian is back. He will see you now.”

.oOo.

We approached the spired tower along the long walkway, seeing trained bloodhawks circling over the battlements. The guardsmen were police and accompanied us to the study along hallways which sparkled and cried out opulence and wealth. 

The study itself was lined with oak and a series of powerfully enchanted landscape paintings, whilst to one side of the broad blue carpet was a heavy desk littered with papers. Behind the desk sat Manzorian, a slim 60 year old man whose hair was greying at the temples. He wore a narrow scimitar buckled nearly at his side, and he stood to shake hands with us.

The conversation moved swiftly to prophecies; Manzorian was tremendously well informed and spoke confidently of the prophecies which would herald the Age or Worms. Apparently there were only two prophecies which had yet to be confirmed as completed, and our stories of Raknian and the three-faced demon beneath Diamond Lake’s mines seemed to match those perfectly.

We showed him the notes and items which we had collected, and learned that Dragotha was a massive undead red dragon of ages past, yet another herald of the Age of Worms. 

When shown the Rod segment which we were still carrying, Manzorian understood our problems in an instant, and was keen to offer a solution – a trade of items. He took the rod off our hands and allowed us to choose from his tremendous selection of magical items.

After a while, I was the proud possessor of a new magical ring, and the others were all similarly pleased with their own new acquisitions. 

As we sat before his desk, he told us more of the history behind the Age of Worms.

“Kyuss was once a priest, and ruler of the city of Kuluth-Mar,” he explained. “The city was controlled by evil gods, and the greatest of the priesthood created powerful undead, and Kyuss was the most powerful of these priests. 

“I know of this history because of the researches of my comrade Balakard, a wizard of no small power. He made an extensive study of the city of Kuluth-Mar in the far-southern jungles. He learned of a site there called the Spire of Long Shadows, a tremendous ziggurat from which Kyuss took the long step to divinity.

“When I last saw Balakard, he was deeply excited and planning a trip to the north to pursue a lead there. It is likely that if you could find him, or even his journal, you would find a great deal more about what is going on. But to do that, you would have to follow the trail, as Balakard would not tell me where it was he was headed to. He had become extremely secretive and was simply not prepared to tell me what he was looking into or where he was going.”

We took our leave of the archmage, and headed south, pausing only to make good on our deal with Cymria and discreetly disposing of the guard captain, whose disintegrated ashes were spread on the winds across the city. 

.oOo.

Teleporting to the outskirts of Kuluth-Mar with the help of one of Manzorian’s enchanted portraits, we found ourselves standing in the deepest jungle imaginable. Strange cries rent the thick muggy air, and the heat and moisture meant that our adventuring gear was soaked through within moments. 

We picked our way through the thick undergrowth and crested a rise from which we could see the vista of a ruined city. Trees grew up and twined through the smashed buildings, and in the centre of the city was a solid black circle of darkest obsidian. In the middle of this ring stood the ziggurat, an ancient monument of crumbling stone from which rose an impossibly tall tower. Two spikes of solid stone protruded from the sides of the spire, seemingly ignoring gravity with the remaining mystical powers of the city. 

The highest point of the spire was a jagged mess of broken stones; seemingly the entire peak of the spire had been torn away by some colossally powerful event in the past. 

Chanting a series of eldritch syllables and making a number of complex gestures, Endo was shrouded by the cloak of a deathly figure, whilst dark spirits breathed their energies deep into his lungs. Finally, his skin seemed to age and dry up, cracking and splitting as his lips seemed to recede. His eyes sank into weathered and dessicated skin and he leered toothily around himself at the jungle. His hands, reduced to fleshless claws, flexed as though to test the extent of his grip under the effects of this new and loathsome magic.

We all took a few steps away from him, looking at one another nervously as we headed towards the necropolis of Kuluth-Mar, with a figure from our nightmares marching in our midst.


----------



## killjoy68116

Wow... I love the discriptions... what were those buffing spells?


----------



## Eccles

Mage Armour was the shroud, False Life was the breathing, and we'll have to wait for Darmanicus to tell us what that godawful 'turns him into a lich in all but name' spell was - it's from some third party book that Morrus has let him play with!


----------



## killjoy68116

I never could figure out False Life... the Lich thing, the party's reactions, brilliant...


----------



## Eccles

As we hacked through the undergrowth and reached the outskirts of the necropolis, I began to hear a faint sound, as though hundreds of voices on the wind were chanting in unison. As I span rapidly on the spot, I began to catch glimpses of figures kneeling and abasing themselves towards the ruined ziggurat.

I turned again to see what these spirits were worshipping, and blinked in amazement. The top of the blasted tower was somehow whole once again and the ruined buildings around me were miraculously whole once more. Seated on a massive green throne on the peak of the spire was an armour-clad man wearing a circlet across his temples. The chestplate of his Flann-wrought armour carried a symbol of a skull and scythe. The symbol of the death-god, Nerull.

A crackling light dazzled my vision briefly, and the frenzied chanting of the crowd rose to a new high. “Kyuss, Kyuss,” they cried and moaned in some religious ecstasy. The light burst brighter, and I squinted.

Abruptly, the city was silent and still – the chanting figures gone and the spire blasted apart once again.

.oOo.

We worked our way past fallen buildings towards the massive obsidian ring towards the centre and the ziggurat. As we moved forwards, Igmut cast a spell which he promised would conceal us from many forms of the undead, and with this in mind Flynne crept off ahead to scout the path.

He reported nothing, and in short order we reached the obsidian ring, which we could now see was carved in a repeating pattern. The words “Kyuss Forever Bound” wound together and repeated in runic script for the entire circumference of the colossal block of black stone. 

As we got close to the ring, we noticed that the floor had begun to move gently. Tens of thousands of the tiny wriggling Kyuss-worms were strewn about the floor wriggling around bones and the roots of trees they made a thick and suitably gruesome carpet for the necropolis itself. As long as we kept moving the creatures were unable to get up our boots, and so we were safe unless we were restrained. 

We climbed up into a building overlooking the ring, and could see that there were many more worms carpeting the inside as well. These were somewhat more active, creating an undulating white floor across the inside of the black walls; somehow the magic of the ziggurat was feeding and supporting the worms. 

.oOo.

Casting another spell on himself, Igmut gingerly touched the wall, finding it to be cold but not otherwise life threatening. He climbed up, and Flynne scrambled up the wall to join him, and the two together helped the rest of us climb us using a knotted rope, before lowering us back down the other side. 

The sharp-eyed elf declared that he could see something dark yet shimmering atop the ziggurat, and so we moved towards an entrance, our footsteps squelching messily into the worms as we moved.

The entrance to the ziggurat was reached without incident, but as we paused nearby, a skeletal armoured figure rounded one corner. The creature moved smoothly and powerfully, rather than the lurching and clumsy movements I had seen before from the undead. As it closed, we could see to our horror that the corpse positively dripped with the Kyuss-worms, and that two particularly fat specimens had taken root in its eye sockets. They snapped and gaped around the skeleton’s gaunt face as it closed rapidly towards us. 

At its heels, trotting like obedient dogs were two massive fat beetles, which clicked rotting mandibles as they closed on us.

The skeletal figure dashed _fast_ across the space between us and swung his broadsword down towards me, gashing my shoulder deeply. I yelled in pain and backed off, clutching the wound. 

Flynne’s new bow sang, and its twin enchantments against the undead and evil beings caused serious damage to the figure. Endo yelled “Don’t hurt the beetles”, clearly with some plan of his own in mind.

With a gesture, the skeleton bellowed out “Hounds of Kyuss, attack!” The beetles clicked once more, and then crashed into Igmut’s heavily armoured form. The half orc responded by casting not one, but two spells, growing to massive size and turning to face the two beetles confidently. Endo, also in possession of a metamagic rod of quick-casting, cast two of his own spells, neither of which had any effect on the three large undead creatures attacking us, but in a heartbeat there was a sudden shudder which went through the white carpet under our feet, as every worm within 10 feet abruptly ceased moving and began to decay rapidly.

Stepping forwards, Maynard unleashed a flurry of blows at one of the beetles, and his fists and feet glanced off the thick chitinous plates which covered the rotting beetle. 

The undead knight moved forwards, and Igmut’s massive sword slammed down, unleashing a tremendous burst of light which burned a huge chunk of decaying flesh free from the creature; it struck back with its sword.

I cast a spell of hastening, and Flynne began to fire his bow like a man possessed. Arrows slammed into the undead knight and the holy undead-bane bow punched smoothly though the knight’s armour leaving deep craters in its craggy rotting skin.

As beetles bit out and Maynard and Igmut dealing deep and savage wounds to the monk but clanging off Igmut’s new enchanted floating shield, Igmut turned and smacked two massive chunks of flesh from the knight.

Chanting, Endo cast a spell to halt the undead, which failed to have any effect on the knight, but the two beetles stopped abruptly in their tracks. The knight was equal to the situation, however, and he stepped across to the beasts and slapped them each in turn breaking them out of their motionless state. At the same instant, the two worms in his eye sockets stretched out and bit deep wounds into Igmut, drinking deeply and swelling like fat leeches as they absorbed much of his life essence. The knight somehow looked dramatically better, but Igmut had stopped moving.

Leaping over to my half orc friend, I dug a potion from his belt and scrambled up his armour to pour the liquid down his throat; I took another grievous wound from the undead knight as I did so, bit it was worth it as Igmut blinked dully and looked around him.

“Urrr – wossup?” he queried blankly. Clearly the potion had not restored all his faculties to him, but at least he could move and defend himself once again. 

The two beetles scuttled forwards, but their mandibles simply scraped off Igmut’s heavy armour. Igmut responded instinctively, lashing out around him like a gigantic armour-clad sword-wielding baby in a tantrum. The enlarged sword, fully 7 feet of enchanted metal, cleaved through the knight, and Igmut chuckled.

Endo snatched a wand I had pulled out of my bag, and used it to fire a second copy of his own spell, halting the beetles in their rush forwards.

We stood before them and lined up our assault – Flynne firing a series of arrows through one which penetrated its brain and killed it. His last arrows smashed home into the second beetle, and it started towards us before Igmut’s tremendous sword shattered its exoskeleton and leaving it flattened and dead amidst the many tens of thousands of dead worms.

We recovered, caught our breath, and headed for the ziggurat once again.


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Mage Armour was the shroud, False Life was the breathing, and we'll have to wait for Darmanicus to tell us what that godawful 'turns him into a lich in all but name' spell was - it's from some third party book that Morrus has let him play with!




Morrus is letting me play around with a book called 'Thee Compleat Librum ou Gar'Udok's Necromantic Arts' by 'Ambient Inc'.........and it's very cool!

He's chucking in 3 books throughout the campaign, (of which I have 2), which when then are all collected will comprise of the book in its entirety. So basically I have books 1 and 2 which allow me to learn spell levels 1-3 and 4-6 respectively at the moment as well as any of the other stuff such as feats etc. that I like.

In all honesty most of the stuff I couldn't realistically use because either the spells aren't for wizards, some spells are from my barred schools or they are downright evil stuff!!!

What I can use however is great and the book as a whole is a lot of fun.........if you happen to be a Necromancer obviously.

The spirits that pull and tear at existing wounds, making them bleed more, comes from 2 spells:-

Weeping Wounds, (1st Lv) - Basically, ranged touch attack which, if successful, will cause the target to suffer an additional 1d6 damage from any weapon or non-energy damage source. Only works on living tissue. No save and SR applies.

Visceral Wounds, (2nd Lv) - Ranged touch attack again, SR applies and there's a partial fort save which if made the target just suffers as per the 'Weeping Wounds' spell. If the save is failed however the target will also bleed 1hp/round for each attack augmented by the WW effect.

The Lich type spell as Mr Eccles likes to refer to it as is as follows:-

Mortification of the Flesh, (4th Lv) - Personal spell lasting 1hr/lv. Gives you the appearance of a dessicated corpse and sustains your body without functional organs, (apart from the brain), for the duration. Additionally when subject to a crit, the confirmation roll must also be within the weapons crit range!!!

Awesome.


----------



## The_Warlock

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> Morrus is letting me play around with a book called 'Thee Compleat Librum ou Gar'Udok's Necromantic Arts' by 'Ambient Inc'.........and it's very cool!
> 
> ...
> 
> Awesome.




That was a fabulous resource book for converting the Necromancer College of Skull City in Return to the Tomb of Horrors to 3E. 

Go, Go, Necromancer!!


----------



## Ibn Khaldun

*Nice Story Hour*

I just finished reading the entire tale (so far) front to back.  Great stuff!


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Ibn Khaldun said:
			
		

> I just finished reading the entire tale (so far) front to back.  Great stuff!




Glad you've been enjoying it! 

And it's quite a read by now... figure we're going to have to buy Mr Eccles a new keyboard sometime soon?


----------



## Morrus

It's currently the 15th longest, and 14th most-read Story Hour on the board.


----------



## Eccles

Morrus said:
			
		

> It's currently the 15th longest, and 14th most-read Story Hour on the board.




Dear grief, is it? 

I don't know whether to be smug, proud, or just a bit scared!

Oh, and with a bit of luck the hiatus should be over shortly. I-Al and Morrus are back from Gencon, I've moved house, and given that I've spread the typing of this over 2 laptops, there's no danger of my suffering total PC failure in the short term...


----------



## Eccles

As Flynne headed for the unlit entrance, we all noticed something twist in the air above our heads. Looking up, we saw a dark stain blotting the sky. As we tried to work out what it was, the stain spread in an instant to cover the whole sky. In the blink of an eye the peak was restored; its black rock surface intact and unscarred. 

The very pinnacle seemed to writhe, as though the thick black rock was merely a thin shell covering a moving creature. As though hatching its way free of a vast black egg, a massive red-scaled dragon tore its way free of the black stone. As shattered rock fell many storeys towards us, the beast’s wings broke free and it took flight northwards, a monolith clutched tightly in its rear claws.

The dark rock of the monolith was scored with runes, and deep within the rock there appeared to writhe worms somehow almost in the shape of a ghastly visage.

An instant before the tonnes of rock fell onto us, the vision faded and we were left at the foot of the broken ziggurat once more.

We looked at Flynne expectantly, and he sighed deeply before turning back to the dark entrance.

.oOo.

Once inside, we passed up a couple of stairs and through a second open doorway into a room whose walls depicted armoured figures destroying some ancient civilisation, whilst overhead clouds shrouded a cold cruel figure which clutched a vicious looking lumpen pickaxe.

Ignoring the painted and carved destruction, we pushed our way through a set of double doors into a vast chamber lined with pillars. Towards the centre of the room both ceiling and floor had been torn apart by something whose power had smashed the heavy stone pillars towards the sides of the room as though they were twigs. 

From the deep pit in the centre of the room, tendrils of green mist rose up into the room, where they faded. 

I plucked a few ominous notes on my lute. 

.oOo.

As we neared on the crater, we noticed three other doorways. Faint rustling sounds came from behind the doors to the sides; the door on the far side of the chamber (which we expected to lead straight out of the other side of the ziggurat) was silent. 

Ignoring the crater for the time being, we moved to the door on our left, where we noticed a faint greenish light spilling from the keyhole. 

Maynard pulled the heavy stone door open, whilst Flynne and Igmut aimed bow and spear towards the entrance, clearly ready for enemies within. Rather than the expected undead, however, we were met with a short silver-haired elven figure, whose eyes were an ever-shifting rainbow hue. Power crackled from his fingers, crackles of lightning earthing itself at his feet and into the powerful winged figures which stood to either side of the figure.

These other two were similarly beautiful, each standing easily 12 feet tall with long blond hair to their muscular shoulders. Sprouting from their backs were huge feathery angelic wings. Power and confidence positively oozed from them, and as they stood their they clenched their fists. Somehow, their arms elongated and thinned, forming into blades which sprang into a dark blood-red flame. 

At the same instant, Flynne fired an arrow, and the smaller figure spoke a single word. As Flynne’s arrow slammed into its shoulder, Igmut was bathed in a pillar of flame. As he screamed in pain, the two angelic looking figures cackled and stepped forwards. With madness and hate in their eyes, they slashed at the big half orc and the monk standing next to him with their burning and bladed forelimbs. 

Flynne’s next volley of arrows slammed home into the thin elf-like fallen angel, and he crashed to the floor bleeding silvery blood across the floor from multiple deep wounds. Igmut’s greatsword slashed deeply into one of the corrupted sword archons, whilst Maynard’s mighty blows smashed repeatedly into the other. 

I used a wand to fire a series of magic missiles into one of them, and Maynard’s rapid punches felled the creature. As it collapsed, the madness and hatred faded from its eyes. The second joined it a few moments later as Igmut’s sword swept across, and through, its torso. 

.oOo.

The green-lit room faded, and was replaced with an intact and clinical-looking torture chamber. Wailing victims were strapped to tables, with arrays of bright and sharp-looking implements lined up near to them. 

A handsome man in blood-spattered robes stood to one side, talking to a six armed insectile spellreaver – a rotting and undead creature of awesome power and a deeply hostile alien intelligence. 

The creature clutched a long green crystalline rod, and with one of its other decayed arms passed a jewelled iron box to the huma, who used iron tongs to withdraw a writhing green worm. The man inspected the worm with a triumphant look upon his face. 

The torture chamber faded back to the decayed and fungus-infested chamber we had seen on first entering. There were no other entrances, so we turned to the door on the far wall.

.oOo.

This time, when Maynard wrenched the door open we could see into a poorly lit library, and the stench of the four undead creatures within wafted out to meet us immediately. At their centre was a stooped dwarf-like creature in heavy plate mail armour which positively crawled with worms. Three taller figures flanked the twisted shape. They also reeked of death and dripped worms slowly from their armour. They had heavy armour on too, and also clutched heavy green energy-infused swords in their skeletal fists. 

I cast a spell designed to interfere with spellcasting into the room, but it didn’t seem to have any effect as the squat twisted figure cast a spell of his own before the three rotting knights raised their swords to point them towards us. Three large blasts of negative energy exploded around us.

Enchanted, Igmut simply ignored the massive blasts, whilst Maynard Flynne and I all managed to leap out of the way of them all, taking cover behind the broken pillars and walls. 

As I cast a spell of _hastening_, Maynard’s shuriken largely bounced off the closest figure. Igmut’s spear, however, punched through the chestplate of the twisted figure. It simply gripped the haft of the spear and began to pull itself towards the half orc. 

It had pulled itself a short distance towards the horrified-looking cleric when Flynne, preternaturally fast and skilled with his bow normally, but under the effects of my quickening magics, fired a huge number of arrows which punched through and around the hunched figure’s armour and destroyed it in a series of magically enhanced bursts. 

Yet more of his arrows blasted into the skeletal knights, and two of them responded by slamming heavily into Igmut, dealing him terrible damage with their green greatswords.

As I ran over and tipped a flask of powerful healing draught across his wounds, the third figure levelled his sword and another black explosion of negative energy blasted across the fight. This caught me unawares, and pain blossomed through my whole body. At the same time, the more badly wounded of the undead knights was healed spontaneously by the evil effect. 

Gritting his teeth, Igmut switched to his greatsword, and lashed out. A huge burst of light was testimony to his hitting and releasing the stored _Searing Light_ spell from within his enchanted blade. 

Flynne’s arrows filled the air once again, and the closest of the undead knights began to collapse. As it fell, however, the body went rigid and dark energies exploded outwards. Once again, they washed over Igmut and the rest of us dived away from them. 

As I blinked away the remainder of the dark blast from my vision, I could see that Flynne’s elven eyes had already found their next target as several more fletchings protruded from the other knight which stood in the doorway continuing to focus its attacks on Igmut and Maynard. 

The third figure stepped up to the doorway and began to join in the assault on my comrades, hacking at Maynard with a swipe from its heavy sword. 

As I began to sing yet another encouraging chant, Igmut hacked away with abandon, and Flynne’s arrows flew once again.

BOOM!

Another black wave washed over my comrades, causing Maynard apparent agony as it did so.

I fired another pair of magic missiles from my wand, and then Igmut’s sword spoke for us all, and yet another black blast washed out from the last falling undead horror.

Though it hurt both Maynard and I, there was no remaining abomination to capitalise on the damage, and we looked into the room as we dug for our healing wands. 

.oOo.

Once again, the decaying library seemed to blossom and renew itself in front of our eyes. The same evil-looking humanoid sat at a dask, looking at some runes written upon a series of bronze discs. 

The six armed spellreaver stood close to the man once again, and without speaking it simply pointed at a detail on one of the discs. Twisting the thing slightly, the human’s face blossomed into comprehension as he squinted at the texts. 

The room faded once again, its glories lost to the ravages of time. 

.oOo.

We inspected the library, seeing that there were 12 glass vials on mounts around the walls. Each of these contained a long grey coloured worm in suspension.

A book on a podium on one wall featured on its cover a runic emblem of a worm within a human skull, and the aged cracking parchment within spoke of the use of ‘knowledge worms’; the means Kyuss used to grant knowledge to his followers. 

At the back of the room, Flynne grinned as he slipped “The Complete Libram of the Necromantic Arts, Volume III” out of its leathery human-skin cover and into his backpack.


----------



## Eccles

As you might guess from the lack of a lich-like necromancer hurtling across the room screaming "Miiiiine!" at the end there, Darmanicus missed the last session.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Nice update! Think you did the visions justice there! Nice work. 

Definitely feels like this campaign difficulty has moved up a notch - those knight + spellcaster combinations were pretty scary - One of the gits even cast _Destruction_ at Igmut.   

Rather worried we're going to run into the spellweaver soon as well...


----------



## Morrus

This is, without doubt, a nasty adventure combat-wise.


----------



## Eccles

With Endo agreeing to cover our rear for a while, we were delighted to see the glow of reinforcements arriving by teleport spell. Clearly sent by Manzorian, we introduced ourselves and were introduced in turn to Dokkin Singebeard, a wizard specialising in transformative and destructive magics, and Aaron Morglay, whose armour and weapons singled him out as a swordsman, although his expression and slow reactions indicated that he was, perhaps, not the sharpest tool in the box. Loyal and protective to a fault, as far as Dokkin was concerned, however.

From our position in the library, Aaron was prepared to try swallowing one of the grey ‘knowledge’ worms. Gulping the thing down in one, he paused, then yelped and grabbed his throat as the creature clearly came to life and gnawed its way through the back of his throat aiming to find a home in his brain.

After perhaps a minute of yelling in agony, Aaron stopped, and his eyes glowed a deep green colour for a second before he began to recite dates of famous battles from history. 

Sweeping the rest of the worms (and several interesting looking volumes) into a bag, we set out and starting trying to work out where to go next. 

We began by leaving the ziggurat and scaling the outside walls; climbing the five foot high slabs of stone with care until we reached the blasted hole in the top. From here we spent a moment staring at the intricately carved and badly damaged throne, before we stared downwards into the depths of the building, through the hole in the bottom which was still giving off tendrils of greenish mist. 

“Aha,” announced Dokkin. “Truly a fine example of a vaporous miasma from the netherplanes if ever I saw one! I would anticipate that the worms’ mystical corruption would increase in effect were the creatures to amass in sufficient numbers. This corruption might coalesce in a manner sufficient to corrupt the local atmosphere.”

We stared at him.

“You mean,” ventured Maynard, “that enough worms might give off green fumes?”

“Precisely,” beamed the mage.

Shrugging, we climbed back down and into the ziggurat once more.

.oOo.

When we had reached the lip of the blasted crater, Igmut passed his floral slippers to Flynne, who clambered spider-like into the chamber beyond. A couple of minutes later he returned to report that there was a large room some 80 feet long and nearly as wide filled to a depth of perhaps 3 feet with writhing and crawling green worms. The room had three exits.

We tied a rope around Dokkin, and then he and Flynne carefully entered the room from above together. From the deep hole we hand lowered the mage into, we saw a sudden orange glow and a loud ‘whump’ noise, followed by a call of “nope. There are simply too many of them. Haul me back up and we’ll try something else.”

.oOo.

Whilst we considered our next options, Igmut recovered his slippers and then went to look down the three exits. We learned that one had a series of coffins in it, another had a long corridor ending in double doors made of bronze, and the third had a green glow from down it, which came from a truly enormous sea of the Kyuss worms. 

Dokkin was confident that he could leap us all to the bronze doors, and cast his spell. We strode through the crimson doorway he created, and found ourselves almost on top of the massive doorway. There was then a sudden spate of spellcasting. 

As Aaron pulled the doors open, we were greeted with a 40 foot square room containing a fountain which ran with pure and clear water. Sword raised, Aaron stepped into the room, followed by Dokkin who cast a powerful spell of seeing upon himself and strode purposefully into the chamber casting a second piece of magic. 

Whatever that spell was supposed to do, it had no obvious effect, but almost immediately a hunched and armoured skeleton appeared, pointing at Aaron. An instant later, as he was still shaking his head from whatever eldritch effect the first undead had used, a second appeared only a handful of feet away slashing with his hand which caused a black blade appear hacking a wound across Aaron’s shoulder. 

A third undead appeared within the room, slashing its hand in turn sending a shower of broken rocks shattering from the wall just to Maynard’s left. 

Bursting into light, Aaron’s sword started hacking at the neared hunched undead sending gobbets of dried and rotting flesh and green worms showering the area. As he withdrew his sword from each attack, dozens more of the tiny worms began chewing at the undead’s flesh from the inside, somehow knitting it back together. 

Under the effects of a spell of _hastening_ which I cast, Flynne started firing and 4 arrows slammed into the armoured undead in the centre of the room, sending it staggering back, but it then pulled the arrows from its dusty and worm-ridden flesh and began to heal.

Maynard and Igmut’s blows both simply scraped off the heavy plate armour, and the two magic missiles which I fired from a wand had no effect as they sputtered and failed on contact with the stunted abominations. 

Dokkin waved his hand, and a tremendous blast of electricity arced across the room, playing around two of the stunted worm infested creatures, and slamming with force into the fountain. In a burst of heat the fountain’s contents evaporated with a tremendous stench; the undead simply laughed as the lightning had no effect on them whatsoever. Fresh and wholesome water flooded back into the fountain.

The first undead again tried to cast a spell on Aaron, telling him to ‘drink from the fountain’, but he refused and carried on hacking with his enchanted sunblade. A second dark blade hacked across his shoulder, flung from some 30 feet by another undead, whilst the third clawed at Maynard before sinking its teeth into his shoulder. When the creature drew back we could see that the monk had been left with a large number of the crawling worms writhing on his flesh. 

Aaron’s sword swung heavily, and scythed the head off his opponent. Flynne’s arrows punched down the second and slammed on into the third, which was immediately charged by Igmut – the half orc ran across the room and carved his sword across its abdomen, spilling dusty flesh and worms across the floor amidst an ineffective burst of light. 

Whilst Maynard punched at the undead to almost no effect, I cast a _sound burst_ spell centred on him and his opponent, which pulped the worms on the monk and (thankfully) didn’t daze either him or Igmut. 

Dokkin gestured almost negligently, and a cluster of brightly burning magical orbs slammed into the remaining undead, blasting chunks off its chest; the creature responded with a simple slashing motion, and the mage yelled in pain as his blood spattered the floor of the room.

Aaron turned, sprinted across the room and hacked the creature into two pieces in a single fluid motion.

.oOo.

The room faded, and we were granted a bird’s eye view of the necropolis in the full flush of life, clearly many hundreds of years ago. However, the streets were empty, as every single citizen was crushed into the central square around the shining black ziggurat. As they chanted and bowed to their temple, a sudden burst of dark energy flooded outwards from the spire, and every single inhabitant of Kuluth Marr collapsed in an instant. We could feel the effects of powerful and deeply evil magic in effect, as the faith energies of the many thousands of victims was drawn, together with their souls, towards the spire.

A moment later, a huge figure grew from the spire, a massive human shape made up of millions of worms writhing and crawling over one another. The face of the newly born god looked around at its handiwork in triumph, before suddenly looking concerned and then furious. A second later, the millions of worms were drawn back towards the centre of the spire, and were then sucked into the monolith at its peak. It wailed in fury as it did so, and as it vanished into the runed monolith, the citizens on the ground below began to lurch into unlife. 

.oOo.

After the vision faded and we discussed it, we decided to look at the chamber with the coffins in before resting for a few hours. A lightning bolt cleared away enough of the worms to allow us to dash through the large chamber filled with their writhing or charred bodies and reach the room.

Within the square and neatly carved room were arrayed some 50 corpses, each perfectly preserved and lying apparently in state on slabs of the same dark rock that the ziggurat was made of. Thick dust obscured the runic patterns which lined the slabs, but around the walls of the room were names, one for each of the corpses. One I recognised quickly enough as a famous blacksmith from some two thousand years ago. 

We peered through a large opening into another near identical room whose preservation magic had clearly lapsed as the bodies were completely dessicated. Yet another exit led out of the far side of the chamber, and Aaron pushed back Dokkin and stepped through.

Another long corridor led away from the rooms filled with corpses. Doors could be seen at the far end, and halfway along was a side passage which clearly led to the lake of worms Igmut had described to us – the green glow was powerful and eerie. 

Flynne checked the door, and indicated that there was a noise from behind it. Maynard yanked it open.

“Hello,” came a sibilant voice from within.


----------



## Eccles

Ran out of time. Will try and get the rest of this episode (which features cameos from Piratecat and KidCthulu) sorted out before we play again on thursday!


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Eccles said:
			
		

> Ran out of time. Will try and get the rest of this episode (which features cameos from Piratecat and KidCthulu) sorted out before we play again on thursday!




Great stuff so far Mr Eccles! Enjoying that writeup immensely.

Boy did those visions get disturbing in a hurry - seriously unpleasant stuff... killing all your worshipers = nasty. Although I supose that does kinda go with the evil god territory?

The cameos rocked - far too much fun having them at the table!


----------



## Eccles

Within the room lay a positive nest of books, together with several long stone troughs. Wallowing by the edge of one of these was a bloated worm, some ten feet in length with a grotesque parody of a human head which faced us, breathing raspily through row upon row of jagged tiny teeth. 

“Urr,” hesitated Igmut. “Hello.”

“It speaksss,” hissed the long fat worm. “Tell me, humansss – are any of you wizardsss?”

We hesitated, but before we could come up with a clever remark Dokkin strode forwards.

“I am a mighty wizard, yes.”

“Can you cassst…” the creature paused. “Teleport? Can any of you cassst … teleport? I wisssh to be … teleported away from … evil.”

“Are you evil then,” asked Igmut naively of the tremendous human faced slug deep within the bowels of a necropolis devoted to the evil god Kyuss.

“My master told me one thing,” added Dokkin. “He said  ‘Son, never teleport the bloated worm monster out of the ziggurat’. Sage words of advice, and I remember them to this day. They have served me well.”

“I have many booksss,” taunted the worm. “I’ll let you have them if you … teleport me out.”

As Aaron eased into the room to get between Dokkin and the worm, it continued to hiss at us, but Dokkin spoke first, whilst looking longingly at the many books. 

“You’re probably resistant to most of my magics, and I only have one spell of teleportation remaining.” 

“Very noble,” replied the worm-thing. “I a Srg’T. I am not one of these _floor_ worms. I am… I believe that our word would be ‘naga’.”

Dokkin looked at the books to establish their nature and value, and swiftly we realised that we were standing amidst a treasure trove of valuable necromantic books. He then pulled out his spell pouch, and prepared his spell carefully.

“It is up to you,” he told the slug-like naga, “whether you resist the spell.”

With this, he chanted and gestured at the creature, and with a brief ‘pop’, we all stared amazed. Where the tremendous naga had writhed on the floor there was now a small and fluffy grey kitten.

With a pink bow around its neck.

.oOo.

We stood looking at one another for a while whilst wondering what to do next. As we did so, the tiny grey kitten sat on the floor mewing plaintively whilst washing itself with a tiny pink tongue. 

Miaowing, it padded across the floor to rub its tiny head against Igmut’s fluffy slippers of spider climbing.

And Flynne stamped on it.

.oOo.

We rested in a extradimensional space summoned up by Dokkin, and when we were ready we set out for the dim glow of the lake of worms. This was contained within a large rough-hewn oval cavern and we could see two exits. With a carefully prepared suite of spells, we were all flying and planned to simply hurtle across the cavern and explore the rooms beyond.

The stench as we flew across the large chamber was indescribable, and the green glowing vapours deeply sinister.

Just as we were halfway across the cavern, there were two sudden black flashes across Aaron’s armoured chest. At the same instant, two of the crooked plate-armoured undead appeared in our path floating some 40 feet away in our path. 

I cast a spell of _hasting_, and Igmut flew through the air towards the two undead, but as he flew towards them a third materialised in his path, swiping at him as he passed. Igmut simply ignored the wound he took and crashed into his intended target with a bright flash of light from his sword. Despite taking terrible damage, the creature continued to struggle. 

Flynne floated gently out to one side and shot an arrow into the forehead of the undead which had appeared somewhat closer to us. It turned to face him, tearing the arrow free from its skull and dropping it into the sea of worms whilst tiny worms within the corpse began to gnaw and knit the flesh back together. It gestured, and a black blade slash tore across Flynne’s side. 

At the same time, one of the others bit sharply at Igmut’s collarbone, leaving a couple of worms on his armour trying to dig their way inwards to his flesh. 

The third moved away through the air and slashed with its hand, and another black blade appeared in the air cutting deeply once again into Igmut’s leg.

A fourth undead appeared at this point off to our left, and a pillar of flame crashed down onto Flynne, Dokkin and Aaron. Flynne managed to escape unharmed, but the others were seriously hurt by the titanic black and green flames. Aaron yelled in anger and flew through the air to crash into this latest threat. 

Maynard flew up to assist Igmut, and slapped the worms off him, and there was then a vast explosion, summoned by Dokkin, which enveloped two of the rotting figures.

Suddenly, bursting from the lake came an immense worm. The creature rocketed up from almost directly underneath me, and I was treated to a sight of row upon row of teeth surging up towards me. The creature stared sightlessly around, thin tendrils at its jagget maw feeling at the air before it surged up still further, snapping the massive mouth closed around Flynne’s torso. From several yards away, I could hear the sound of his bones cracking and his screams of agony as the creature’s mouth ground tighter upon him.

Desperate to get some distance from the monster, I flew away from it towards Maynard and Igmut and pulled out my staff of fireballs. Flying upwards and away, I twisted and launched a tremendous gout of flame which encompassed the massive worm’s flank as well as one of the undead.

Igmut hurtled past me in the opposite direction, alighting in the air within arm’s reach of the massive rotting worm and touching Flynne, who was still in its grip. Flynne’s screams subsided a little, as he was no longer injured, but was still trapped firmly in its razor sharp teeth. 

Dark slashes erupted around the room from the still-floating threat of the undead warriors, and one of the both bit and clawed at Aaron – the blows simply scraping off him due to the rocky effects of a previously cast _stoneskin_ spell. Tiny green worms could be seen on her toughened hide questing vainly for a way through.

He responded by hacking repeatedly with her powerfully enchanted sword, tearing the undead knight before her with many wounds, leaving his disjointed parts to fall into the worm-sea below.

Dokkin then also flew to the very mouth of the creature, casting as he went – once he reached his target he grabbed Flynne by the shoulder and the pair of them vanished through a glowing portal, reappearing on the other side of the room. Still healthy from Igmut’s spell, Flynne immediately started firing arrow after arrow into the creature from above – his enchanted arrows looked like tiny pins in the top of the massive head.

With the tendrils at its mouth flailing once more, the worm-creature blindly sought another target before stretching out and biting down hard on Igmut. There was a terrible crunching noise and then Igmut’s entire body suddenly went limp – huge quantities of his dark blood seeping down the worm-thing’s throat and flank.

I flew closer to the monster, my battle-song changing to one of great and terrible loss, whilst behind me Maynard was pummelled by the undead knights, leaving several worms on his flesh. Aaron drank a potion, and flew up to join us above the terrible scene of the undead worm chewing on Igmut’s lifeless body, whilst behind and below us Maynard slapped at the worms on him, crushing them before punching the knight in the teeth. 

More arrows from Flynne left the top of the monster’s head looking something like a bizarre pincushion, but the creature simply ignored this damage source and swam through the lake of worms for the only other target still in reach. It reared back once again and its jaws crashed down. Maynard twisted sharply at the very last instant, and avoided the attack entirely. 

I let off another blast of fire from the staff, incinerating one knight and blasting chunks off the worm, whilst at the same time a black blade scythed through the stalactite next to me, sending chunks of rock falling into the worms below. 

Aaron pointed his sword downwards and yelled, charging home into the very centre of the great worm. It turned and bit at him, causing most grievous damage, but with his very last breath he pushed his broadsword up into the roof of its mouth with all of his strength.

The vast mouth opened in a roar of pain, and the beast crashed down into the worm-pit.

Almost immediately, Dokkin gestured, and an arching green ray struck one of the two remaining knights in the chest. A sudden falling of dark ash and armour  was all that was left of the vaporised knight, before Flynne’s volley of arrows dispatched the last foe.

We gathered what we could of Igmut’s belongings and remains, and flew (healing Aaron as we went) out of the vast cavern. 

Igmut was dead.

.oOo.

We decided, after some debate, that Maynard should accompany Aaron and Dokkin back to the surface and transport Igmut’s body back to Manzorian for a proper burial. Once there, they could see if any other brave warriors might be willing to join us on our quest to thwart the prophecies of the new Age of Worms.


----------



## Morrus

Nicely written, Nik.  You always manage to make my games sound much more atmospheric than they actually are!

For everyone else - Piratecat and KidCthulhu were visiting for a couple of days and joined in the above session.  Piratecat played the wizard Dokkin, and KidCthulhu played the fighter, Aaron Morglay.  Interestingly, KidCthulhu named the character after an actual named sword we saw earlier that day in Arundel Castle while sightseeing - the sword was about six feet long, called "Morglay", and was allegedly wielded by a guy who was seven feet tall.





_"Men of Myth often attained gigantic stature as their stories were retold, the list of their achievements and physical attributes often sounding like a title or an impressive string of letters after a learned mans name. Whether any of the giants mentioned so far are stories of men blown out of proportion or just local folklore of a different source is not known but another giant by the name of Bevis Of Hampton. The Hampton is thought to be Southampton but Bevis is usually linked with the town of Arundel as that was the name of his horse, Hirondelle. 

His sword, which goes by the name of Morglay is 5 ft 9 in tall and is currently kept in the armoury (or library) of Arundel Castle, from the battlements of which he threw the sword to mark his place of burial. There are three seperate barrows which have claim to be the spot where the sword fell.

Bevis was employed as a warden of the castle and was payed with a whole ox, two hogshead of beer as well as bread and mustard (according to one story) each week. He was said to be able to walk from Southampton to the Isle of Wight without getting his head wet. On the way from Arundel to Southampton lies Bosham where Bevis stopped to wash his dogs. Bosham church is said to have contained his staff which he left there as a keepsake. Bevis is mentioned as the hero in a poem from the fourteenth century, ample time to grow a few feet in the retelling. Part of the castle was named 'Bevis Tower' after him, though some think that this name came from someone called Bevis who fought at the Battle of Lewes."_





Inconsequenti-Al and KidCthulhu walking up the hill towards Arundel Castle​


----------



## Richard II

Eccles said:
			
		

> With this, he chanted and gestured at the creature, and with a brief ‘pop’, we all stared amazed. Where the tremendous naga had writhed on the floor there was now a small and fluffy grey kitten.
> 
> With a pink bow around its neck.
> 
> .oOo.
> 
> We stood looking at one another for a while whilst wondering what to do next. As we did so, the tiny grey kitten sat on the floor mewing plaintively whilst washing itself with a tiny pink tongue.
> 
> Miaowing, it padded across the floor to rub its tiny head against Igmut’s fluffy slippers of spider climbing.
> 
> And Flynne stamped on it.




What!?! You stamped on the fluffy gray kitten? Someone's asking for a smiting. Poor little kitten.

/\ _ /\
(='.'=)
(")_(")~~~


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Richard II said:
			
		

> What!?! You stamped on the fluffy gray kitten? Someone's asking for a smiting. Poor little kitten.
> 
> /\ _ /\
> (='.'=)
> (")_(")~~~




Big thumbs up for the ASCII kitten art!

Hehe - there was a bit of discussion about what to do with the evil kitten of doom...


----------



## Eccles

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> Hehe - there was a bit of discussion about what to do with the evil kitten of doom...




I think the general concensus was that as long as there was a 200 HP housecat out there, no commoner would be safe...


----------



## Eccles

After a couple of minutes spent nervously hovering over the sea of worms, there was a second series of tell-tale teleport shimmers by our side. Two figures reappeared next to us, but to our shock Maynard seemed to have decided not to rejoin us.

In his stead, Manzorian had sent a pair of new adventurers – the short notice he had had was reflected in the stature of the newest recruits.

*Fez*, a sinewy 3 foot four dark-skinned and feral looking Halfling, with a shaved head covered in tattoos. He leered round at his new environment with his breath hissing through tiny teeth which had been filed to points. He was covered in leathers and hides, through which protruded dozens of sharp-looking metal spikes; around his neck was a necklace of teeth (clearly enchanted to my eyes), and a collection of shrunken heads swung by their hair from his leathery belt. He appeared to have a heavy floating rock hovering in the air next to him, which bore the marks of having been struck by many dozens of weapons. The pygmy was carrying several spiked, bladed or edged weapons belted to his waist and shoulder.

*Janga* was a gnome, positively festooned in heavy metal armoured plates. His shield and armour were both covered with the symbol of Fahrlanghan, particularly in his aspect of god of travel and protection. The tiny cleric carried a bag slung over one shoulder which carried the auras of a selection of magical scrolls and potions. 

Once we had introduced ourselves, we looked at the possibilities for exiting. There were a total of 4 ways from the cavern, two of which we had discovered before Maynard had left. Each of the other two went down a short stretch of 10 foot wide stone passageway before ending with wide bronze doors each stamped heavily with a massive symbol of Kyuss. 

Heading down the left-hand passageway, we paused whilst Flynne first checked and then listened at the doorway, and then cracked it open to peek through. I could see glimpses of a thick green velveteen carpet together with richly upholstered furniture as well as glimpses of an alien and worm-filled landscape on the back walls – a landscape of caverns filled with worms and worm-like humans which burst from the ground to destroy the civilisation above them. 

Also in the room were three figures, each in black heavy armour and clutching a jagged and evil looking sword. Each of them turned to face us, and we recoiled in horror at the realisation that their eyes, like the figure outside the ziggurat, had been replaced by a pair of bloated, grasping worms. 

.oOo.

Flynne slammed the door shut in a heartbeat, and an instant later two figures could be heard beating upon it. The shadows around the rest of us suddenly twisted and pulled away to coalesce in a dark spot on the wall between Janga, Endo and myself. The third skeletal figure stepped through from this darkest patch and struck at Janga, its black blade scything through his armour as though it wasn’t there. 

Endo turned in alarm, and his spell flared with a green light in the dark corridor. The beam of light struck the undead in the chest, but the creature threw off the worst of the spell. As I chanted, Flynne spun on the spot, allowing the door to swing free as his arrows struck the creature. 

The tiny gnome cleric raised his holy symbol and yelled scripture towards the undead, but there was no effect apart from Endo complaining about a sudden splitting headache. Fez ignored this and kicked open the door screaming before he slammed a flail into the face of the undead pulling on the other side. 

In the corridor behind him, things went from bad to worse as the skeletal figure continued to hack at Janga. Two blows from the shadowy blade scythed through his armour and his blood spilled through the seams. Tiny teeth scraped against the plates as the worms in the skeletal sockets stretched out and snapped at the gnome but failed to find purchase. 

At the door, Fez yelled in alarm and began to flail at things in the air, whilst the undead on the other side of the door glanced at him and then glided forwards to slash and bite at the tiny savage. The sword blow he largely seemed to ignore in his fury, but the bite of the eye-worm seemed to make him look deeply unhappy, and he bagan to burble and speak nonsense as he continued to lay about himself with the cold-iron flail he was clutching. 

The third of the creatures carried a more jagged and wicked-looking blade, which bit twice into Flynne; each time accompanied with a burst of null-magic. A bite from the eyeworm looked particularly vicious, causing the elf to flag noticeably. 

Endo produced a wand and a rod of metamagic, and whilst the dark blast from the wand missed its target, he followed it up with a rapid spell of _hasting_, whilst I continued to chant encouragement to my comrades. 

The two together allowed Flynne to fire a huge number of arrows which struck heavily, but the undead was still facing Janga with determination as Flynne stepped back behind Fez. 

Janga chanted and healing energies burst forth, curing the wounds on the cleric as well as Flynne and the tiny pygmy warrior. As the restorative powers struck the undead, they bellowed in pain and fear as dust trickled from their dry joints. They advanced upon us – one glared and Janga who called out that his faith was stronger than its eldritch powers. 

As the creatures moved forwards, Flynne was struck with another sword blade and a bite from an eye-worm, which reduced him to the level of an angry (and horrendously dangerous) infant. Another of the undead aimed its attacks at Fez, and all of them glanced off the floating stone (which darted from place to place to intercept sword blows), or the thick hides he was wearing. 

Janga, however, was hit hard twice with the shadowy swordblade, and once with a bite from an eye-socket. Endo responded for him by flinging a powerful dark beam into the teeth of the closest undead, draining its strength a great deal. He then spun and gestured, sending lightning crackling between the two figures in the doorway. They simply cackled as the bolt played over them to no effect, and my use of a wand of undead-holding also had no effect on them. 

Taking flight, Flynne tumbled backwards to hover over the sea of undead worms, firing one shot when he was in place. The long arrow slid through the shadowy skeleton which had stepped from the darkness to the midst of us all. Fez stepped backwards and strung hard, smashing the Kyuss-knight’s bones against the wall and it collapsed in a broken heap. His heavy blow swung onwards and he poured blow after blow on te next closest target. 

Janga chanted, and called down a roaring column of fire upon the two undead. The roaring inferno caused the two undead knights to bellow in fury and pain, but once we had blinked away the after-image of the flames the two were still standing and still striding towards us. The closer one swung its barbed sword, and there was another flash of null-magic which flayed Endo of all of his magical effects whilst dealing him a terrible blow at the same time. 

The other undead turned its cowled face towards me, and I was treated to a sudden barrage of mental images of worms and decay. I fought off the images before the creature struck Fez with its sword and a bite from its eye-worms. 

Backing up, Endo cast a spell of _disintegration_ upon the creature which had stripped away his protective spells. The creature bellowed in pain and rage as its remaining flesh and sinew were boiled away by the magics. Cowering from a potential attack, I stepped up to Fez and cast a _displacement_ spell in the teeth of the still-smouldering undead. 

Suddenly, from over our shoulders, Flynne’s arrows crashed home – the first nailed the recently part-disintegrated undead to the floor, where it slumped and was still. The other three arrows slammed into the last creature, and it collapsed into a heap of bones and armour on the floor. 

.oOo.

We moved cautiously into the room, and read the large red runes on the wall, which described the names and tasks of the four powerful knights of Kyuss. While Fez smashed the furniture and carved into the walls with his adamantine ‘axe’ (more of a razor-sharp flake of the metal tied to a long bone with a length of creeper), Endo interpreted the walls to confirm that these four were the greatest warriors of Kyuss within the necropolis. 

We took flight back across the lake of worms, and as we touched down on the far side before the last set of doors, they crashed open. Silhouetted in front of pictures and patterns of alien slaughter and random barely describable chaos stood a thin and rotting six armed figure. 

A voice spoke in our minds.

“You would be the fulfillers of prophecy. You have my thanks,” gloated the undead spellweaver.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Eccles said:
			
		

> We took flight back across the lake of worms, and as we touched down on the far side before the last set of doors, they crashed open. Silhouetted in front of pictures and patterns of alien slaughter and random barely describable chaos stood a thin and rotting six armed figure.
> 
> A voice spoke in our minds.
> 
> “You would be the fulfillers of prophecy You have my thanks,” gloated the undead spellweaver.




Don't you just hate gloating bad guys. 

6 Arms does not make them any better. Particularly when they use those appendages to cast multiples spells at the same time!   

Another fine writeup Mr Eccles! Thanks!


----------



## Eccles

“Let me ask you,” continued the rotting undead spellweaver. “Did the worm burst forth from the bowels of the city? Has the Rod been found?”

We glanced at one another briefly, each of us unwilling to attract the creature’s attention by responding. 

“Well,” its mocking voice spoke in our minds once more; ringing with confidence and power. “If you’re not minded to talk, then I shall bid you adieu. It’s been delightful having you here, but I’m sure it’s time that you were leaving.”

“And you are?” It was Flynne, reacting almost instinctively to the gloating symbol of power. 

“I am called Mackarr, the Harbinger of Worms.”

There was a pause at our end of the corridor whilst all 5 of us swallowed deeply. With some trepidation, we asked after the missing mage, Balakard.

“I may have seen him,” responded what Endo was urgently whispering was a lich. ]. “He might’ve taken my advice and _left_. I would suggest that you do the same; perhaps within the next… ten seconds?”

There was a creeping sense of dread which swept over us all as I began chanting under my breath to help fight it off. Fez’s tiny form dashed up the short length of corridor and struck at the creature with his tiny iron flail. The weapon struck true and raised up a shower of sparks from the undead’s immensely tough bones. The lich snarled in anger, as Flynne’s arrows sped down the corridor. One shot missed, but two more struck home amidst bursts of undead-slaying power. As the effects faded, the lich swept the arrows out of its body.

As Endo cast, a skeletal hand materialised, floating some two or three feet in front of him. The hand hurtled across the corridor and touched the lich, which simply laughed off Endo’s spell, before responding with its own magics. The six arms gestured simultaneously, each pair moving through the forms of a spell, whilst the creature spoke in an eldritch and incomprehensible language. 

A wave of force hurtled up the corridor, pinning us each in place so that we were unable to move any closer to the lich. As it stepped away, a second spell took effect, and the creature simply disappeared from sight. 

Reacting swiftly, Janga called on the powers of Fahrlanghan, dispelling the invisibility, and Flynne fired a series of four arrows into the creature. Endo’s next spell was again cast through the skeletal hand, tapping Fez on the shoulder and warping the tiny body which swelled to massive proportions. The limbs extended and visibly toughened; his skin greying and developing an almost rocky patina. Even the flail he had in hand grew and developed a massive series of spikes as he grew into the form of a huge annis hag, which towered over the spellweaver and slammed three rage-fuelled tremendous blows down onto the alien being.

The stone ground beneath the being cracked and cobwebbed from the strength of the blows, which drove the lich several inches into the floor, and we all stared on, aghast, as the lich simply dusted itself off with one of its many arms and turned to face us once more. As it adjusted its robes smugly, we could all see that there was not so much as a scratch on it. No mark from Flynne’s many arrows, nothing. 

The creature grinned skeletally, before trying to move backwards. Fez reacted instinctively by reaching down and grabbing it by the top of its decaying skull. The creature began to cast, and the energies of a word of stunning simply washed over the barbarian. It then spoke once again and vanished before reappearing just out of Fez’s reach. 

Whilst Janga began to trudge down the short corridor, hindered by his squat legs and heavy armour, Endo coated the area the lich was standing in with fine golden dust. The monster then simply moved around the corner and out of sight. I could hear the voice chanting as a series of other spells were cast, and I could see Fez firing a vast slingstone round the corner before swearing as it caused no damage whatsoever to the undead. Three thick lances of fire shot out of the room, immolating Janga’s tiny body. 

Reaching the room, Janga looked around and shouted instructions to Fez to destroy a sigil on the left wall, whilst heading to the right where he could see the lich and “some sort of gemstone in a box”. The brave cleric raised his tiny mace as he went, I could hear the sound of it smashing into something on a wooden table. 

Still singing, I finally managed to find the correct sequence of notes to disrupt and extinguish the _repulsion_ effect, and Flynne ran into the room firing.

“Damn,” he yelled back to us. “It’s got images! There are 6 of it now!” – He fired his bow, and then updated us. 

“Five now!”

The floor shaking with his massive steps, Fez stepped into the room and swept a huge adamantine axe into the wall, sending shards of stone and shattered runic magic tumbling from to the floor. 

“Curse you!” The Harbinger began casting, but there was an edge of concern in its mental voice now. It cast three spells simultaneously; wreathing its body in a pale blue flame, and blasting Flynne with three terrible rays of fire before gesturing at Fez. The tremendous figure of the barbarian’s annis-hag form simply vanished without so much as a whisper. The spellweaver lich turned and began to stalk down the corridor towards me, three intertwining versions of the same creature weaving in and out of none another as it came.

I pulled out a magic wand and fired two missiles of pure magic at it as it approached. The globes struck unerringly, and suddenly there was only one of the rotting features heading in my direction. It wasn’t much of a comfort, but did allow Flynne to fire several shots at it from behind; and I saw three of the four arrows pass _through_ the creature’s body; a sure hallmark of the effects of a displacing illusion.

Endo, meanwhile, was crouched in one corner of the room and wailing in apparent fear. A closer look, however, showed that he was clutching his _Rod of Silence_, and his flailing arms were going through the complicated motions of dispelling magic. It failed, however, and the creature’s arms spun. Almost instantly, there was the appearance of half a dozen more entwining versions of the spellweaver, all of which were casting and all of which gestured back into the room.

A vast burst of colours filled the chamber, rays of differing colours blasting into each of my comrades. In a heartbeat Janga lay on the ground choking from the effects of a green ray and then was still. Flynne managed to shake off whatever had struck him, and Endo’s robes were burned and pitted with acid. 

I sprinted down the corridor, diving between the outstretched arms of the still casting lich and rolled to a stop at the feet of Janga’s tiny corpse where I snatched a scroll from his belt-pouch and read it quickly. A vast burst of powerful bright light exploded down the corridor, enveloping the lich as it washed past it. 

Blinking the after-effects out of my eyes, I could see the creature was hurt now. Each of the many versions of it in the corridor was smouldering, pitted from the sunburst and Flynne’s arrows. He fired four more times, and four of the many images vanished as enchanted arrows sped through them. 

With a rapid invocation, Endo cast a spell of transformation on himself which duplicated in an instant onto his familiar. Each of them warped and transformed, growing to a tremendous size and each of them seemed somehow to grow extra neck after extra neck. Two huge hydras appeared in the corridor, blocking the lich’s exit.

In response, the undead monstrosity blasted each of them with a dark ray sapping them of strength. 

Flynne fired a number of shots, and some of the images disappeared. He paused to check his handiwork, and nodded in satisfaction at the fact that there were only three versions of the creature, and that that one seemed to have an arrow sticking out of it. Then the hydra in the corridor unleashed a barrage of bites. The last two images disappeared before the hydra hissed in pain and alarm as the sapping cold from the blue flames around the lich hurt it.

The second hydra was about to attack when I slapped its flank, reading a scroll of _restoration_ as I did so, allowing it to recover its strength from the enfeebling ray. The hydra then lashed down again and again with its many heads, sometimes snapping through the displacing effect and sometimes biting down onto the creature’s flailing limbs. Within seconds the heads were wreathed in frost, lips frosted solidly together. The skin of the hydra was cracking in the intense cold, but down and down went the savage heads.

Finally, it was done. Amidst another flash of freezing cold, the hydra’s skull was bitten and crushed by Endo’s hydra form. 

.oOo.

The room faded, and we could feel around us the whispering voices in a hundred languages, which slowly and subtly blurred into one voice. Then the darkness cleared, and we could see the realisation of prophecy after prophecy beneath us. Worms poured from graves, a comet fell from the sky, whilst a city was wreathed in smoke. A man cackled as he held a blackened arm to his still-bleeding stump. 

As each vision was shown to us, a voice echoed the wording of the prophecy, before suddenly all went dark once more. The voice continued.

“The tripartate spirit shall become one; the mighty are undone; the Hero of the Pit gives his city to the undead.”

.oOo.

Abruptly, the visions ceased, and with them all the magic in the ziggurat seemed to collapse at once. The tens of thousands of worms festering in the halls suddenly stopped writhing over one another and lay dead. Lights began to flicker whilst the stench of death rose around us. 

And the spectre of Kyuss’ cowled face leered in our minds.

“I know you now,” it leered as we scrambled to leave – the walls were now shaking and parts of the ceiling began to crumble and fall. We snatched up Janga’s body and the gemstone on the low table before Endo cast the spell to take us away. Seconds before he finished, the spell restraining Fez ended, and we were all whirled away by the power of Endo’s teleport spell.


----------



## Tamlyn

Eccles said:
			
		

> And the spectre of Kyuss’ cowled face leered in our minds.
> 
> “I know you now,” it leered as we scrambled to leave




Not good.


----------



## Eccles

Tamlyn said:
			
		

> Not good.




You can say that again. Although you should've seen the faces of the party once we worked out quite how powerful that spellweaver lich was. The moment it cast 'Maze' and Fez vanished, I think we nearly teleported away and left him!


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> You can say that again. Although you should've seen the faces of the party once we worked out quite how powerful that spellweaver lich was. The moment it cast 'Maze' and Fez vanished, I think we nearly teleported away and left him!




Not only could it cast 8th level spells... it could cast multiple spells _at once_!

You beat it, though.


----------



## Darmanicus

Eccles said:
			
		

> You can say that again. Although you should've seen the faces of the party once we worked out quite how powerful that spellweaver lich was. The moment it cast 'Maze' and Fez vanished, I think we nearly teleported away and left him!




Heh, that thing was tough. Combat is getting pretty deadly now, especially since we've agreed the use of death effect spells


----------



## Eccles

Within a heartbeat, we were back in Mage Point. Within an hour, items had been traded and a vast sum of gold and diamonds handed to the leaders of the temple to St Cuthbert and Janga was on his way towards revivification. By the end of the second hour we had filled our pockets with gold from traded items, and had received a summons from Manzorian to meet and discuss the situation.

We returned to his azure castle, and met in his library where he explained the research he had been carrying out during our absence. Idly causing a book to fly across the room with his a gesture he dropped his finger onto a column of handwritten text alongside the printed script. 

“I granted Balakard the use of my library for a time,” he explained. “It would seem that he was in the disgusting habit of writing in books; even books which did not belong to him. His notes are quite intriguing, and seem to indicate that he thought the Ebon Triad was a front for Kyuss’ servants. The source of the Ebon Triad was here.”

As he pointed, a chart unrolled and moved to his fingerpoint. “The bandit kingdom of ‘Redhand’, ruled over by Prince Zeech. Previously a noble town devoted to the worship of St Cuthbert, the writings of the cleric Rhorsk indicate that the town was taken over by a powerful movement towards Hextorite worship. In the writings of this religious transformation, there are mentions made in the texts to ‘the writhing dead’. The initial sweep of the Hextorite takeover was defeated by many people, not least the reclusive elven mage Lashonna, although Rhorsk’s texts indicate that the leaders of the cult escaped.

“Balakard’s notes in the margin seem to indicate that this Prince Zeech believes himself to be the annointed one, or perhaps even the son, of Hextor himself, and is involved in some kind of project designed much like the ziggurat you’ve described only made from the local red stone. The town is strongly controlled and law is enforced by the ‘Watchers’ and the ‘Blessed Angels’, who are rumoured to fly over the town enforcing the Prince’s will.”

.oOo.

We spent a few days crafting and purchasing new equipment before teleporting far to the north.

From atop a hill outside the city, we could see the winding ‘Toilway’ which led to the central of three gates. A long and noisy queue wound out of the gates, and flags and banners fluttered from the spires and walls beyond. The city was in festival, and we hastened to join the queue and enter.

Speaking to a few people as we waited to enter, we were quick to learn that the people were careful to praise and compliment their ruler whenever they were in the presence of strangers. They spoke of a celebration of 20 years ‘noble rule’ by their ‘gracious and wonderful leader’. They told us of a great banquet being organised by the ‘glorious Prince Zeech’ to which “even Lashonna herself has been invited”. 

Once I had talked us past the guards (managing to convince the hobgoblin guardsman that the curious combination of a half-orc necromancer travelling along with an elven archer a pygmy savage and a gnome cleric of the travel god was perfectly normal), we passed into the city proper. 

Almost immediately we managed to lose Fez, finding him 10 minutes later in the bustle of people waiting at the sign of the ‘Curious Owlbear’, from which was coming the scent of dozens of differing meats, some cooked, some cured and some raw. An obese Halfling was more than willing to sell, and it seemed that we were more than willing to buy, as we left a while later with Fez gnawing on a hunk of raw centaur steak, and Endo stuffing over 200 gold pieces of expensive (and in many cases previously sentient) meats into his backpack. 

As we walked away, I could hear one of the people in the queue telling another how the Halfling had recently organised a banquet (“attended by no less a person than his august majesty the Prince Zeech!”) where recently dead and fragrantly seasoned centaurs had trotted from table to table cutting slices of meat from their own bodies. 

.oOo.

Having discussed a selection of inns with passers-by, we took the decision to head to the ‘DeLuxury’, the most decadent and exclusive inn in the city. Even ‘his gloriousness’ the Prince had been seen within its stone and wooden walls. As we strolled inside, we were astonished by the surroundings – dancing girls cavorted for the watching wealthy patrons, whilst a colossal bar (made from a substantial chunk of a sailing ship) seemed to be serving every spirit we could think of. Excellent music floated from a stage beyond a well-equipped casino, whilst the clattering of silver cutlery on bone china and the scents of superb food wafted from the other side. 

I sauntered into the hotel, catching sight of at least one familiar face; resting on a chaise-longue whilst savoring a brandy was Professor Murat, who until recently had owned the Emporium in Diamond Lake – before it had been destroyed by the rampaging black dragon Ilthane. 

Loratio the innkeeper welcomed us into his palace, and I was swiftly persuaded to pass over a thousand gold pieces to pay for single rooms for each of us, although Endo and Flynne rapidly squandered a fortune more to upgrade to the best rooms the DeLuxury had to offer. 

Whilst chatting within the palatial hotel, we were told that the banquet was to take place in 6 days, and that only the richest and most influential within the town were to be invited. 

Whilst Endo ate a mixed grill of truly gargantuan proportions, including generous haunches of storm-giant, seasoned steaks of wyvern and bulette, and even glazed and thinly sliced pieces of white dragon lion.

Losing interest in the half-orc’s gluttony, I wandered over to the part of the inn where the musician was playing. Within half an hour (as Endo was tearing into a string of naga sausages), I found myself playing my lute first in accompaniment and then in out-and-out competition with the resident bard, Titus. 

I matched his song, twist for twist and note for note before taking advantage of a lull in his singing. Whilst he was sipping some water I launched into a song of my own creation, picking up where his song had left off and weaving his story into an ever higher crescendo.

When we had finished, I stood after Titus, and was rewarded by not only a tremendous burst of applause from the spectators, but also a prize in the form of a week’s accommodation in the penthouse suite of the DeLuxury.

After amusing ourselves in the hotel for a couple of hours, we decided to leave and explore the city. We had to wait for Fez, all looking out of the doors and pretending not to notice as he demanded that the innkeeper provide “A tall girl, very tall. Long legs. And fat. I want meat on her. But not Halfling. Human girl. Fez likes them tall and heavy”. 

Trying not to look at the tiny savage, we headed first to the ziggurat.

“Shoddy,” was Endo’s verdict. “The workers have fallen behind, and the management is hopeless. Look at the line of that scaffold. And that raising platform won’t hold anything like enough weight once they need to lift much higher.”

I squinted at what he was pointing out, but couldn’t really make out the details he was trying to get across to me. All that I could think was that the red-stone edifice looked remarkably like the destroyed ziggurat back at Kuluth-Mar before it was destroyed.

.oOo.

The Cathedral to Hextor was truly impressive. Staring up at it, we squinted at parts of the chipped and damaged sculpture higher up the building which showed the hallmarks of architecture devoted to Hieronius. The temple had been re-consecrated a number of years ago and devoted to the darker God, but at the Prince’s orders was open to the public. 

A robed figure was presiding over 2 cleaning hobgoblins, whilst several other red-robed clerics bustled around in the background.

Cornering one of these, Fex passed over a large purse of gold to have the blessings of Hextor placed upon it (a process which involved dipping it in chicken entrails and what looked suspiciously like human blood); and whilst this was carried out I learned from one of the acolytes that the High Priest had been ‘insulted’ by the Prince by not inviting him to the banquet at the end of the week. 

.oOo.

Back on the street I tried to ask a few people about the cleric to St Cuthbert ‘Rhorsk’. They seemed very reluctant to discuss him, and his memory was largely derided by those who were prepared to talk to me. The most concerning thing was that the temple itself was now a shambles, gently falling apart and rumoured to be haunted. 

Unable to pass up something like a haunted temple, we headed that way immediately. 

.oOo.

The Church of Blessed Deliverance had been badly burned in years past and was barely standing at the present time. Signs nailed to the single remaining door read that it had been condemned by order of the Prince. I muttered the words to an invisibility spell which allowed Fez to slip into the ruined temple with Flynne. A few minutes later the little warrior reported that there were tracks in the dust and signs that the rubble had been moved a years ago (around the time that Balakard had come this way). 

Gesturing, Janga cast a spell to open a matching pair of doors both inside and out of the church, and we stepped through to stand near Flynne, and he pulled open the now uncovered trapdoor which led down into the temple crypts. We walked down the narrow circular stone stairwell into a scene of dark devastation.

Cracked and gnawed bones littered the floor of the violated crypt. The walls had been torn down in places, and perfectly circular tunnels burrowed magically into the earth and stone beyond. Hearing a moan from the corner, we spotted a figure curled up and rocking gently. Looking up at our torches, we could see the twisted face of a feral grey-skinned man, his once-white Cuthbertite robes tattered and hanging limply over his emaciated frame. 

“Go away,” it wheezed. 

“You Rhorsk?” Fez was already midway through drawing his flail, but paused to ask the question. 

“You know me?” The creature was clearly either utterly insane or undead; perhaps both, but I didn’t think that a lasting conversation with Fez would help his situation and moved swiftly to take over.

“Yes,” I interjected. “We have had the honour and privilege of reading your book, sir, and were wondering if you might be open to answering a few questions. Could you tell us what took place all those years ago?”

“Ah,” came a dusty chuckle from Rhorsk. “I did keep a few things out – although I’m amazed that you’ve all found me out so quickly. I only finished writing a week ago.”

We looked at one another in concern.

“Have you had anyone else visiting,” I asked. “Perhaps in the last few… er… days?”

“Yes! Berelain, Berepal, something like that.”

“Balakard,” I suggested?”

That’s the one,” agreed the ghoulish cleric. “Came in here… must’ve been a couple of days ago, and was asking about the same writings. I told him of the execution of the heretics, which I wrote in my book, but what I didn’t write about was that after the executions I found where they were keeping the bodies I went there and spoke with their dead souls. 

“They told me that they had been set on their path by ‘Mother Maggot’, which had given them the secrets of the undead and promised them still more support. They met her under a building in the south east of the city. 

“I watched the building for a year afterwards, but there were not movements, and I eventually concluded that ‘Mother Maggot’ had moved on. 

“The final expulsion of the heretics and cultists from the city was a tremendous time. Much upheaval – Lashonna was there, of course – couldn’t have done it without her. The Prince was involved as well, but not the church. 

“Your man Baklava asked me about the same things. He said that he was going to try and infiltrate the house. Perhaps if you hurry, you might catch him!”

Unwilling to tell the cleric that Balakard’s visit had been more than two years ago, we bade him farewell and gently closed the door behind us before piling stones onto it to ensure that the ghast’s long rest might not be disturbed for many more years to come. Then, following the descriptions he had given us, we trekked through the city to where he thought ‘Mother Maggot’ had been based.

.oOo.

After a couple of missed turns, it was getting dark by the time we found the right squat 10 year old building; clearly built some time after the cult’s existence. People still celebrating in the streets seemed to give it a wide berth, and when I asked some of them why I learned that it was a sick house, run by a mad old woman.

After spending a few moments planning, Endo cast his most sickening spell, and we watched his skin dry out and sink away. His eyes seemed to shrivel somewhat, and his lips sank away from his teeth. 

Taking one of his almost skeletal arms each, Flynne and I led Endo to the sick-house door, and Flynne knocked. A moment later, the door was heaved upon from within by a squat wizened looking woman with a face-full of warts. As she squinted more in curiosity than anything else at Endo and prodded him with one knobbly finger, we led him into the rooms beyond. 

The rooms beyond had about 40 beds all of which were occupied. Some of the occupants moaned or thrashed, but others were still. The old crone heaved at the bedding of one of the stillest, and a rigid corpse rolled off the bed.

“Put him down there,” she indicated. “He doesn’t need it any more.” Flynne and I grinned as we lowered Endo onto the sweat and blood-stained sheets before I turned to the old woman and told her a completely made-up story about how Endo might have contracted the lethal disease which now presented itself. 

As I spoke, Flynne disappeared into the back of the long building, and the woman produced a muddy potion which she poured between Endo’s rigid lips, and which he then coughed all over the badly stained sheets. I continued my tale, working into it a gentle suggestion that she should go to sleep as soon as possible.

Whilst she began to nod, Flynne returned and gave me a sign that there was something worth investigating at the back of the building. The old woman put herself to bed at my assurance that we would ‘let ourselves out’, and we watched her fall asleep before opening the door and letting in Janga and Fez.

.oOo.

At the back of the building was a deep sheer pit covered by a thick wooden board. A dropped stone fell for a long distance before cluttering to solid ground beneath. Deciding to go straight down, we leapt into the pit and floated gently to red brick flooring below under the power of a simple spell of slow-falling. 

Rotting prayer mats surrounded a black triangle painted onto the floor, and a tangle of fresh-looking rope was near the room’s only exit. As we moved towards it, the rope twitched, then uncoiled and seemed to expand into a 10 foot tall human-like form of coiled and knotted ropes. It flailed towards us, catching Flynne around the head with a knotted lump of rope before entwining him tightly in a series of coils. 

The elf stabbed at the rope-creature with his shortsword, and then Fez ran in screaming with his axe, hacking at the creature. Endo told us not to bother casting spells at the monster, before causing lightning to crackle and spark all over it. There was a stench of burned hemp.

Dropping Flynne, the rope creature flailed at Fez, wreathing him in coils of rope, and a noose began edging its way around his neck. 

I hastened all my comrades, and Janga also cast a spell to empower himself, and whilst Flynne hacked at the creature more with his enchanted shortsword and Fez writhed around trying to savage the rope-monster with his spiked armour. Endo’s spellcasting brought forth another floating skeletal hand, which he sent forwards to touch Fez. The tiny savage suddenly grew to massive proportions, pulling free of the knots with ease. 

As it battered repeatedly against Fez’ new hill giant form, I sang and Janga struck it with his enchanted mace. Flynne struck, but then Fez’ newly expanded two foot long armour spikes tore into it, shredding ropes as though they were rotting strings. 

Pushing past its remains, we moved down the tight corridor into a circular room which contained a 15 foot wide pit. Runes carved into the mouldering brickwork spoke of the power of the ‘Avolakia’, a worm which could turn into a humanoid, as well as glorifying Kyuss.

We clung to Fez’ broad shoulders as he climbed 40 feet downwards to the ceiling of a chamber shaped like an upturned mixing bowl. Flynne invoked the power of his sword and took flight over the black stone floor whilst the rest of us dropped gently to the floor as I once again invoked the powers of the _feather falling_ spell and we drifted to the floor.

As we fell, we looked around ourselves, seeing a number of alcoves containing stone statues of wormlike monsters, and a huge statue of a three headed six armed monster, which was missing three hands. Its leathery hide seemed dry and dusty, but as we neared the floor we noticed that its one good eye seemed somehow wet. The massive figure was almost a perfect replica of the ‘Overgod’ which we had fought under Diamond Lake all those months ago. 

The instant we touched the floor, the wet eye blinked, and the huge arms began to flail towards us; the ground trembling as it approached.


----------



## Eccles

The statue ground towards us, and Flynne (clutching his enchanted sword all the while) began to fire arrow after arrow down into it. Bloody ichor began to spurt from the monster’s wounds. 

Shrugging us off, Fez waded into the combat, being bitten deeply on the arm before hacking a deep wound into the creature’s massively tough hide. Meanwhile, above us a red glow coalesced into the form of a heavy flail, which began to smash repeatedly onto Flynne. The creature nodded at its mystical handiwork, before crashing into Fez – the multiple hands and wicked teeth dealing his huge form massive damage to his giant body.

As I cast a spell of hastening, before Endo cast a spell of his own – a dark beam shot at the huge creature before fading to nothingness around it. To make matters worse, as with the Overgod in Diamond Lake, the failed mystical energies were drawn into the creature, healing much of the deep axe-wound which Fez had inflicted. 

Janga moved forwards slightly to cast a tremendously potent healing spell on Fez, which healed all of his wounds as Endo cast another protective spell upon him.

Above, Flynne dropped slightly, firing all the while and dripping blood down onto us. In the same instant Fez screamed in anger, hacking deep wounds into the Overgod. Despite massive and appalling wounds, it screamed in reply – the sounds echoing and reverberating in the brick-walled chamber; before flailing a huge number of blows down onto Fez, sending spatters of deep coloured giant blood around the room. 

As I stepped up and cast a spell of displacement to help secure Fez, and Endo failed to dispel the glowing red flail, Janga cast another powerful restorative spell, which healed not only some of Fez’ wounds, but also some of Flynne’s above us, but not enough to give Flynne complete confidence, and he dropped almost to floor level for security. As he came down, I realised why – the flail had inflicted many serious wounds to him above our heads. 

Bellowing in _hastened_ fury, Fez’ adamantine axe crashed down again and again and with a low moan the huge creature staggered and then collapsed backwards. Its three heads struck the wall, and then smashed through it, revealing four chests behind a carefully concealed false wall.

Fez leapt onto the massive barrel-chest, and brought his axe down again and again  whilst bellowing in triumph. 

The rest of us inspected the chests with all the resources we could muster. No magical auras, no traps, and a while later Flynne pulled them all open. 

Our eyes glittered with the gold and gems which we could see. Enchanted items and potions lay roughly stacked with scrolls, weapons and armour. 

Jackpot.


----------



## Dpulse303

hehe "jackpot"
Nice write up Eccles! looking forward to tomorrow.


----------



## Piratecat

Richard II said:
			
		

> What!?! You stamped on the fluffy gray kitten? Someone's asking for a smiting. Poor little kitten.
> 
> /\ _ /\
> (='.'=)
> (")_(")~~~



There was no sympathy for that evil kitten-worm. None!

Man, that was a fun game.


----------



## Darmanicus

Piratecat said:
			
		

> There was no sympathy for that evil kitten-worm. None!
> 
> Man, that was a fun game.




Wish I could have been there PC. Man one of the only times I miss a sesh and you turn up.......bummer


----------



## Eccles

Janga’s teleport spell deposited us instantly in Endo’s luxurious suite, near the attractive tinkling of the jasmine-scented fountain. We spent a short while discussing what we needed to do, and generally agreed that in order to meet Lashonna, we would need an invitation to the celebration being hosted by Prince Zeech. Having reached this conclusion, we retired for a night’s rest.


.oOo.

The next day, I spent a little while in a number of temple libraries reading up on the Prince and the history of the city, before heading back onto the streets startling people with a series of slightly unusual questions.

“Excuse me,” I asked them. “Could you tell me where I can hire an orchestra?”

Following a particularly promising lead, I headed across town. En route, I passed through the marketplace where I couldn’t help but notice 3 bruised and bedraggled figures standing on a scaffold. A tall man wearing Hextorite robes cried out in a shrill voice,

“By the grace of his most beautiful majesty Prince Zeech, I hereby condemn these three most low traitors to be hanged.”

As he kicked at the lever and the three prisoners fell kicking to their deaths, there came a tremendous cry from the crowd.

“DEATH TO THE EBON TRIAD!”

I grinned as I walked away. Finally an aspect to politics I felt I could agree with…

.oOo.

The next couple of days were extremely busy. I remained locked in my suite at the DeLuxury, scrawling ideas and notes on sheet after sheet of parchment. Eventually, covered in ink smudges, exhausted, and full to the gills with caffeine and wine, I staggered into the morning light and arranged to have my new opera printed and bound into one hundred neat leather-backed books of music. 

After a couple of hours sleep, I spent the remainder of the second day feverishly rehearsing the music with the town’s best orchestral group (who had been persuaded _en masse_ to walk out of their booking that evening with a healthy thousand gold piece bribe). We played the piece over and over again until I was satisfied, before heading to the appointed place – the park in the centre of the city which my comrades had been working on as I was rehearsing.

The thousands of gold pieces which they had been spending to arrange a tremendous party at short notice had been well placed. A vast marquee stood to one side of the green, and hundreds of the citizens had already turned up sitting on blankets picnicking and chatting in the evening’s light. 

Over the next hour, as the general public were entertained by superb dancers and acrobats which Flynne had managed to find and hire, more and more of the town’s nobility (invited from a list compiled by Endo with the help of the DeLuxury’s manager) flooded into the marquee where a banquet had been laid on. 

Fez appeared to have had a talent for putting on a good spread, and there was a wide and generous selection of food and wine on offer for the invited guests. Although the little savage had managed to offer a vast array of food, there was a very heavy reliance on haunches of rare meats and a liquor called ‘nimby’. 

Before the music began (and as a pair of fire-breathers waltzed through the crowd sending huge sheets of magically coloured flame skywards where a hired wizard twisted it into shapes and creations from myth), I moved through the tent making introductions and smiling broadly at our many guests. Although Lashonna and Prince Zeech had not come to our ‘little soirée’ (as I kept calling it), the Prince’s misshapen (and clearly half fiendish) daughter Hemriss had seen fit to grace us with her twisted face. 

Other notables included Hoff, a fat and foul-mouthed dwarf who shouldered his way to the buffet where he seemed to try not to offend Lord Malkavian Killraven, a tall iron-haired man whose right-hand had been replaced with a hook in the course of his duties as Captain of the West Border Watch. 

A short distance from this awkward pair, a flamboyant and enthusiastic conversation was taking place; the flame-haired and mischievous-looking Mahordil was clearly teasing a gleeful and exuberantly-dressed Professor Marat, the owner of the Emporium from the Diamond Lake. The two were watched by a nervous-looking Halfling woman who introduced herself to me as Miscen Witchwillow, merchant and spellcaster. 

On the other side of the tent, Mariss Quemp stood chatting with a couple of merchants. I recognised him from a description given to me whilst I was touring the town in earlier days, and his finely dressed rich clothing could not disguise the half-orc ancestry somewhere in his background. He had made his reputation as an adventurer in this tough bandit country, and was clearly a man to be respected. 

Another demi-human standing out in the tent was Shag Solomon, a charming yet clawed quaggoth, who was stooped to talk with the leader of the Northern Rangers, the dark skinned Captain Vulrass and Armhim, the owner of the DeLuxury. Janga was engaged in an intriguing conversation with Toriss,  gnome from an outlying province who was the only person from the outlying areas who had been invited to the Prince’s banquet. The gnome seemed to be mooning after my clerical companion, following him around the marquee and offering him a large gemstone. Curious, but not wishing to get embroiled in this gnomish matter, I left the two alone.

.oOo.

The performance went off flawlessly. I employed every trick in my performing arsenal, to the point of binding several audience members to my will and transforming them from reluctant attendees to a standing ovation. I made the most of my recently developed ability to trigger spells without breaking my musical concentration, and had deliberately written a number of sequences within the music for myself. At one stage I managed to perform an apparent duet with myself for a few moments by casting an illusion and stepping away to reappear, still playing, from behind the harpist. 

The music was interspersed with magical blasts of sound and visual accompaniment, and at the end, as I triggered a _haste_ spell to play an otherwise impossibly fast allegro section of the composition, the audience rose as one for a standing ovation which lasted long after the orchestra and I had finished playing. Flowers were thrown, and at the end, as I returned to the marquee flushed with success, I was confronted by Armhin, manager of the DeLuxury with a handful of expensive gilt-edged invitations. 

“I believe,” he announced to my comrades and I, “that Prince Zeech will hear of what you have done today, and will find you all to be suitably entertaining dinner guests.”

We were in. I gathered up the bound copies of my music proudly, and we retired for the night to consider our next move. 

.oOo.

Flush with success, we began to plan for our next social engagement – the party of Prince Zeech. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of gold and platinum pieces changed hands in exchange for fantastic costumes and jewellery. A cast off comment from one of the tailors I had summoned to my suite at the DeLuxury sent all of us scurrying for shops, enchanters or tools to craft a suitably generous gift for his highness when we visited him 4 days later. 

Much of my next few days were therefore spent cloistered away in the comfortable suite I had won at the DeLuxury, whilst the others began to spend their nights in a magical suite of extra-dimensional rooms summoned up by Endo.

I spent my time layering spell after musical spell into a small harp, whose body was carved at great expense into a grotesque series of lithe attractive and sometimes alien bodies fighting or copulating, which I had learned was likely to appeal to the prince. 

Whilst I was busy, my comrades were out exploring the city, and I later learned had come into conflict with a martial pair of hobgoblins, leaders of the ‘Knights of Redhand’, champion outriders to Prince Zeech. Tiny Fez had managed to get himself dragged into a challenge of prowess. I learned from Flynne later that the tiny savage had found himself leaping from one rooftop to another over a forest of spears held by the hobgoblin’s many followers to dissuade them both from falling. 

Flynne told me that whilst Fez had leapt boldly and cleanly, the far taller hobgoblin had bested him by a matter of inches. With the question of hobgoblin superiority apparently satisfied, the two warriors had then invited my comrades to a lengthy afternoon’s drinking.

.oOo.

Over the following few days, several thousands more were spent on upgrading our outfits. Fez went beserk on jewellery and ornamentation, and Flynne’s usually stealthy profile was coated in a glittering shimmering layer of gold and diamonds. 

Clutching gifts and dressed to the nines, we were ready on the evening of the fourth day when a decadent ornamented carriage pulled by four besuited trolls rolled to a graceful stop outside the DeLuxury. Bearing our gifts, we clambered inside and rolled away through the city streets to the red-stone wall surrounding the palace. Gliding through, we chatted whilst sipping wine from a crystal decanter within the gilded carriage.

The palace itself was a massive sweeping building of several hudred rooms. Continually expanding wings in a dozen styles showed the Prince’s impulsive and grandiose decisions. The named gardens were filled with costly orchids, whilst from the centre of the palace rose a huge bronze and glass pagoda-like affair.

My friends and I, and the other guests, gathered in the ‘Vertiginous Terrace’. Peering around we could see that there was no sign of Lashonna yet. One of the gold-weapon armed guardsmen told me that the Prince would be there shortly, and so in the interim I enjoyed the company, chatted to other guests and sampled the foodstuffs offered by the dozens of servants who flitted around ensuring that no glass went unfilled.

After a while, we made our way up towards the promontory of the Vertiginous Terrace, heading up a white stone pathway between dozens of bleached skeletons whose chests held burning braziers to light our way in the evening light. At the top, we could see a 200 foot drop to the city below, with lights blinking into effect mimicking the stars of the early evening sky above. 

Once again, I saw Janga speaking to the other gnome, who was dressed in his flowery best. He clutched a pomade to his chest as once again I saw him persue the cleric (who was not, this evening, dressed in his heavy armour), proffering the same expensive dark pearl. 

We all chatted to others at the party; Flynne spoke to the hobgoblin mercenary they had met previously, and Endo talked to the bejewelled form of Mahordril. Whilst Fez chatted amiably with the only other Halfling in the group, and who was apparently not put off by his pointed and filed teeth. I spoke tentatively with Hemriss, the Prince’s daughter about her task of policing the city. 

Some 20 minutes later, Prince Zeech himself arrived amidst a tremendous fanfare. A handsome man in his early 40s but looking younger, he was resplendent in the most cutting edge of clothing. He was accompanied by an incredibly short man some two and a half feet tall wearing crimson leather armour. This figure had a mummified raven attached to his shoulder and wore a strange three pointed hat bedecked by ribbons. 

Hemriss explained to my curious look that this was the ‘Ominous Fabler’, the Prince’s servant, fool and advisor.

The two were flanked by several truly deformed servants. One was missing his legs and lower torso and walked everywhere on his hands. Another somehow had his face in his stomach, and a third had a small extra arm protruding from beneath his left shoulder. 

A horn was blown from somewhere far overhead, and the Ominous Fabler spoke.

“My lords, ladies, gentlemen and other invited guests, Prince Zeech bids you welcome to his home. He will now receive your gifts.”

Taking turns, each of us advanced a few paces to kneel on one leg before the ruling magnate with the gift held in outstretched arms. We were not to speak until addressed by the Prince.

P’Kruss, the hobgoblin my comrades had met earlier in the week went first, kneeling with a glittering horseshoe in his outstretched hands. I was fairly convinced that the thing was a cheap thing gilded and coated with gemstones to look near-priceless, but the Prince obviously didn’t see it the same way. He broke into a broad grin and gestured the warrior into the garden.

In turn, each of us passed our gifts. Taking my turn early, I knelt in front of the monarch with the enchanted harp in my left hand, the strings thrumming with musical potency, each charged with part of the music of my recent composition. In my right hand, I held a lit torch which hovered over all of the expensively bound copies of my work. When he looked at me curiously and gestured that I should speak, I explained.

“Your glorious majesty, this harp is enchanted to play that work which I penned in your honour, a tale of your glories which so recently was played to your people. You have but to say the word, and I shall set these copies alight, so that the harp will remain; the only record of my works, and you alone shall be able to play the musics at your whim.”

Smiling somewhat cruelly at me, the Prince nodded, and I suppressed a look of pain as I allowed the torch to fall onto the leather-bound books of music. Besides; I could always write it better next time. 

“It is a shame,” began the Prince, “that I was unable to attend the concert. I hear that it was well received by my citizens. I bid you enter and enjoy yourself, and I shall speak more with you later.”

Bowing, I moved further into the garden, and watched as Janga presented the Prince with an extremely graceful horse which had been trained to leap over extremely tall obstacles. The Prince looked at it, and then at a second jet black stallion which was being led by servants for another guest. Pausing for a while, he nodded, and I could see Janga sag slightly with relief. 

Fez approached the monarch next. The little savage stumbled on his unfamiliar outfit and offered a large dark leather saddle, which I could see had been enchanted to conceal several exceedingly deep pockets to entertain the Prince when he was hunting. 

“It doesn’t fit my horse”, yelled the Prince – almost incandescent with anger an instant after looking pleased at my gift. He gestured curtly to Fez to step back, and whispered something in the Fabler’s ear. The tiny man wrote a few notes, and then the Prince beckoned to Flynne. 

My elven comrade had also heard of the Prince’s love of hunting and had somehow managed to lay his hands on a pair of skeletal enchanted hunting hounds which seemed to curb the Prince’s ire somewhat. He stared at them for a while, before simply saying “Hmmm… Thank you. Next!”

Flynne stepped sharply away and left space for Endo, who flourished a magical bag of holding as he spoke.

“For one who is master of life and death, I grant to thee this pale semblance of life.”

As he spoke, he dropped the bag to the floor, and I saw it twitch. Bursting from the bag came a skeletal face, on the end of a writhing naga skeleton. Endo had apparently raised the creature from death himself, and had clearly spent many hours carving each of its many hundreds of bones with intricate runes and pictures, and the whole thing was a grotesque yet strangely artistic masterpiece.

The Prince didn’t see it that way, and was clearly not prepared for the thing emerging so suddenly from the bag. He yelled in alarm and leapt back, imitated with uncanny precision by the Ominous Fabler, who leered mockingly at Endo as a pair of tall winged guardians materialised, swords drawn, between Endo and the undead naga. There was a moment’s still silence before the Fabler whispered “you’d better scurry somewhere out of sight”, and Endo nodded nervously as he stepped sharply away.

Comparatively there was little controversy with the gifts from the rest of the guests, and we soon found ourselves being seated on a number of chairs produced by the malformed serving staff. With a burst of the horn, the Ominous Fabler stepped forwards to address us once again. 

“My masters, I present to you the Harlequinade Mortifacio, a piece which I have penned myself in honour of our glorious ruler.”

With a flourish, he called on the first of the ‘actors’. A series of skeletal performers clattered onto the stage, each performing ‘japes’ such as drinking wine to allow the liquid to tip through their bodies to spatter the floor beneath. In silence, each of the actors was put through its paces in displaying the dreadful manner of its own death. It swiftly became apparent that these performers had, in life, been actors themselves who had somehow displeased Prince Zeech, and it was his choice of torture and execution that they were displaying to us. 

Whilst we watched in barely disguised horror, we were served with sparkling wine and lightly flavoured almond biscuits. At one stage, Flynne caught my eye and nodded over to the heap of incredibly expensive gifts, and I could see that the Fabler was looking closely at the horseshoe, with a jeweller’s eyeglass screwed into one of his eyes and his notebook open. 

.oOo.

Once the performance had come to an end, we spent a little while talking amongst ourselves. During this time, I learned that the other Halfling, Misczen, was interested in Fez’s history, but that despite claiming to be a merchant, she seemed to know relatively little about her supposed wares. I took some pleasure in introducing her to Mahordril, who I’d learned was the head of the local Merchant’s Guild. 

My amusement was interrupted by the blowing of another horn, and the Fabler led us across the grounds whilst walking expertly on stilts and singing an unpleasant ditty about boiling sparrows. He led us to the ‘Balcony of Expectorance’ where he leapt onto a railing several hundred feet above a sheer drop to the city below. 

“Welcome,” he called to us all, “to the Handsome Slaughter of Curious Avians.” 

Saying this, he gestured to the surroundings, and I took in dozens of cages and a rack of repeating crossbows. 

“Make ready to,” he began but the Prince interrupted him with a slap which almost sent him tumbling the hundreds of feet to the city below. Zeech took up a particularly well made crossbow and announcing “I feel lucky. Anyone who can meet my score shall be given a thousand crowns.”

Saying this, he turned and the first of the cages was opened. A series of colourful flashes burst forth amongst the wingbeats of some gloriously plumed coralax birds, which flew away letting off bursts of vibrant colour as they went. The prince’s enchanted crossbow sang, and he slapped a second clip in with expert speed. When he had finished firing, six of the birds had fallen from the sky, and there was a ripple of politely impressed applause from his guests. 

Each of us took our turn, and although we all expected Flynne to come closest to the Prince’s score, we were thwarted by the unfamiliarity of the repeating crossbow and the difficulty of hitting such small targets at such a great distance. The elf hit only two targets, but did manage to fire off 8 shots, and whilst his score was exceeded by Fez shooting three of the birds. Most surprising of all was Endo’s leaning on a familiar looking rod and picking off one of the birds with a perfect headshot. I squinted at him through my _Clair de Lunettes_, and could see the distinctive flashes of magic before his next two perfect headshots, bit he missed with the last two shots he fired (presumably when he ran out of spells he had prepared).

During the time we were not shooting, we were fed with honey-roast Coralax and spiced wine. I passed the time speaking to Captain Killraven, who was clearly an immensely loyal man – his loyalty was to the city rather than necessarily to Zeech. I was doing my utmost to charm the man but had to make my excuses and leave when I noticed Fez had spilled the drink of the brusque and unpleasant dwarf and the two were practically squaring off for a fight under the watchful eye of an amused Ominous Fabler. 

.oOo.

The Fabler, walking on his hands, then led us through part of the palace, through what I could only describe as a maze into part of the basement. There, we were shown a small arena in which there were two large and two smaller crates. Producing a pair of silver rings, the twisted dwarf announced the rules of this latest perverse entertainment. 

“Those wearing these rings will control the creatures in the large crates and can direct their actions. If you can create more ornaments than the Prince and escape his wrath, you shall win a tremendous prize.”

Endo shot to his feet, and was quick to slip the ring onto his finger. Once everything was ready, the two large crates were opened to reveal two large cockatrices, and whilst the rest of us were handed exotic and delicately flavoured eggs, we were entertained by Endo’s efforts to petrify more cats (released from the smaller crates) than the Prince. He was, ultimately, unsuccessful, but when his cockatrice was then engaged in full-on fight with the Prince’s, his bird landed a number of telling blows which led him to a narrow victory, and was rewarded with a large silver egg for his troubles. 

.oOo.

We were then led to a long narrow garden lit by braziers fashioned from human skulls. A low mound of dyed skulls lay to one side, and we were spoken to once again by the Fabler.

“Allow me to present you to Jack,” said the Fabler as he produced a black-coloured skull. “Jack was an unfortunate criminal whose lot has been more successful in death than it ever was in life, as now he can at least provide an amusement for his Prince. In this competition, the Prince will throw Jack, and each of you shall throw your own poor unfortunate. Whoever manages to land the closest shall win the Prince’s challenge.”

Between bites of delicately flavoured (and headless) gingerbread men, we threw our skulls after the Prince’s. Although my throw was remarkably close, I was beaten by a very close throw by Misczen the Halfling. After she had collected her prize, a gong was sounded, and we all headed into the body of the palace for dinner.


----------



## Eccles

Once again, the tiny form of the Fabler led us to the next location; a massive cylindrical chamber whose centrepiece was a huge mahogany circular table. Ringing the walls were vast canvasses; portraits of Zeech himself engaged in battle, reclining on a throne, hunting, they went on and on; their pattern somehow drew the eye to a single portrait in the room which was different – a tall and stately image of a woman I recognised as Lashonna.

Above our heads, the tall bronze dome was glazed with tremendous panels of stained glass in which erinnyes frolicked in the guise of a host of angels; though a closer inspection revealed that their behaviour was anything but angelic. Just below the dome was a ring of two dozen spikes, each of which had a preserved head impaled on it. The heads twitched on their spikes and revolved to face Zeech wherever he was within the room, all the while cheering and encouraging him in magical voices. 

Before we were shown to our chairs, I tried to whisper the rudiments of which cutlery would be suitable for which course to my comrades, before I was swept away by a member of the serving staff and led to my seat. I had been placed right next to Prince Zeech, and would clearly have to be on my very best behaviour for the evening. 

Directly opposite the Prince was an empty seat, but I had no sooner registered this than the occupant arrived. Lashonna swept into the room, dazzlingly beautiful in a sweeping dress and a tiara of black diamonds. As she entered, she said nothing but nodded at Zeech before taking her seat.

“My dear friends,” Zeech spoke as he rose to his feet. “I bid you enjoy the feast. Eat and drink your fill in my humble abode.” Sitting again, he clapped loudly, and the double doors at one end of the chamber swung open. 

3 towering manticores lumbered into the room, their wings and barbed tails crudely severed to leave space for massive platters which they carried on their backs. As the beasts moved around the table, waiting staff stepped forwards to take heavy covered goblets from these platters and place them in front of the suddenly slightly trepidatious guests. 

“A pilgrim,” began the Fabler in his rich voice as he leapt onto the table, “fell upon hard times upon the moors. He saw a worm, and in his hunger devoured it. The pilgrim was rewarded by the Gods for his humility and in his memory we have served our first course.”

Saying this, he gestured and the waiting staff reached past us and lifted the lids from the goblets to reveal a single writhing fat green worm at the bottom. I looked around at my fellow guests surreptitiously, and could see several of the others looking nervously either around or at one another. Only Fez and Janga, both of whom had any wilderness training, were content to reach into their goblets and scoff down the worms (Fez seeming to take some delight in the squelch of the creature between his pointed teeth). Figuring that if those two were OK then I would be safe enough, I bit down on the fat worm, feeling the thing’s bristles touch the inside of my lips as I bit down on its squirming flesh and then the slightly warm creamy-yet-lumpy contents bursting into my mouth with an explosion of vile tastes and juices.

“Mmmm, delightful,” I smiled at the Prince to my left despite it all and he nodded to himself and smiled at the people around him, some of whom (including Endo) were already turning green and gagging.

As we waited for the next course, the Fabler regaled us with a story of a nobleman who moved a tree into his garden, and of the dryad who lived in the tree’s prolonged vengeance on him. I took my turn at telling the group a tale; one of the stories I had learned early on in my career involving a man who outwitted a dragon and sold it his wife. Unfortunately, amidst a cultured crowd I had to admit that the Fabler’s tale had been the more entertaining, and I saluted him as I returned to my seat. 

.oOo.

The manticores were led out again with the next course; a massive pie which, when cut, 24 blackbirds flew out in terror. We were then served the excellent vegetable pie from underneath the upper crust together with a superb white wine. After we had finished, the Fabler sang a song of his own creation, after which I sang one of the most successful pieces from my recent performance which (although I say so myself) was far better received than the Fabler’s efforts. 

.oOo.

Course three was described as the Prince’s own creation, a ‘Toj Bassaridge’ – a Tojanida stuffed with basilisk which in turn had been stuffed with the flesh of an arrowhawk which in turn was stuffed with a stirge (with three arrows on the end of its proboscis). Although the thing was partially overcooked and in places almost raw and tasted quite dreadful, I was able to quell any looks of loathing on my face and promise the Prince that I was enjoying the meaty mess on my plate, others in my group were not quite as gifted at deception. Flynne had now begun to retch audibly and on the other side of the table Endo was squirming and looking visibly uncomfortable.

.oOo.

The fourth course was one colossal fish, no doubt brought here at vast expense from the seas. Stretched on a huge platter between the backs of two of the manticores, a deformed manservant carved huge chunks off the creature and served them to us with a light whipped cream. The white flesh of the fish on white plates looked truly peculiar, but the taste combination worked very well and I cleared my plate delicately before I noticed a hacking and coughing sound from across the table.

“P…” It was Endo, rapidly turning red in the face as he appeared to choke and point at his throat. “Poi…” His face was scarlet now and he looked around himself in desperation with his eyes bulging from his face. “Poisson,” he finally managed and Janga, groaning in understanding leapt down off his chair, walked a few steps and slapped the half orc between the heaving shoulders. With a ping, the errant fishbone bounced off some silverware, and Endo took a deep and ragged breath. 

.oOo.

The next course was a vast purple jelly, which the Fabler took great delight in informing us had come from the internal organs of a purple worm which “in the hands of an unskilled chef will cause instant death. Who, I wonder, will take the first taste before his highness risks his safety with this terrible dish?”

Flynne, Endo and Fez all leapt to dig spoons into the jelly before the monarch, and it was Flynne who presented a clean spoon the fastest to the tiny Ominous Fabler. After this course, as we sipped iced quesh liqueur there was a competition between us all for the greatest tale of daring and adventure. Although my story telling technique was superior, I was more than prepared to sweep my hat off to Captain Killraven’s epic tales of slaughter whilst on his patrols. 

.oOo.

For the last course, a tremendous cake was brought into the room and slid gently into the centre of the table amidst some fanfare. Looking at it, I could see that the cake was a carefully crafted set of tiers – a replica of the as yet unfinished ziggurat within the city. Carefully crafted in icing and marzipan at the top in a pose of triumph was a miniature version of the Prince himself.

Once the cake was in the centre of the table all of us seated for the meal applauded politely, but as we clapped, something terrible began to happen. The cake trembled, and then a part of the cocoa-powder crust cracked. The filling oozed onto the table as one side of the cake slumped downwards. The miniature Prince Zeech toppled and slid down part of the fallen cake before tumbling to the tabletop, where its head snapped off and bounced once, twice, three times into Endo’s lap.

I slid a mask of blank lack of amusement across my face in an instant, as did one or two of the others around the table, but many people were not so quick to stifle chuckles or open laughter. The Prince stared around with venom and death in his eyes, clearly singling out those who had laughed for later punishment.

As his eyes swept the table, the Fabler remarked that it was but a cake, and not made of stone and iron. I searched around for a quip of my own, and smiled brightly at the Prince before telling him that it was just as well that he was employing his Head Chef as a cook, not as an architect.

This seemed to distract the Prince, who turned to the Ominous Fabler and instructed him, “Fabler… fetch me the Chef’s Head.”

With the bloodied head of the cook replacing the cake in the centre of the table we were served with chocolates and coffee. As we sipped at the drinks, there was a sudden cry from one side of the table. P’kruss had leapt from the table and then fallen on his knees, a thick white foam falling from his lips. Janga leapt to his feet and began to run around the huge table, but his legs were too short for the distance, and by the time he and his curing spells had arrived, the hobgoblin was dead.

Without a comment, the Prince (and a smirking Fabler) rose and left the room. We all walked dazedly after him to a ballroom, where a group of skeletal musicians clattered together to begin playing music for dancing. Snatching up a lute, I joined the band, but did take a short break to engage in some of the dancing; taking a chance to take Lashonna around the dancefloor under the watchful eye of Prince Zeech, and as we danced she whispered to me that we should meet after the dinner.

“Save your questions for later,” came her silky voice into my ear. “I will contact you soon.”


----------



## Eccles

You're lucky to get that lot. Longest update yet (13 pages of Word text!), and midway through the second installment my laptop decided to shut down! Heart attack time!


----------



## Tamlyn

Eccles said:
			
		

> You're lucky to get that lot. Longest update yet (13 pages of Word text!), and midway through the second installment my laptop decided to shut down! Heart attack time!




Well done and well worth it.


----------



## Darmanicus

Bah, 4 days of using a craft skill on those naga bones and a Ltd Wish for some funky effects and that dumbass lord still didn't appreciate me gift!!!

It did however scare the bejeezus outta him


----------



## Abciximab

> "P…” It was Endo, rapidly turning red in the face as he appeared to choke and point at his throat. “Poi…” His face was scarlet now and he looked around himself in desperation with his eyes bulging from his face. “Poisson,” he finally managed...




Pretty funny. Enjoying the SH and look forward to more. I've read JollyDocs AOW campaign, It's interesting to see the different approach/play style to each situation.


----------



## killjoy68116

Uhm, you guys Ok? I'm jonsing over here...


----------



## Eccles

Yeah, sorry. I'm working on it at the moment. 

Slightly slower than usual as we *just* got our new puppy, and she just chewed her way through the USB cable I rather carelessly left on the floor. Give me an hour or so and I should be done. Just got to the 'plot revelation' stage...


----------



## Eccles

Following the party, we returned to the DeLuxury, and the others stepped from my suite through the portal into a _Magnificent Mansion_ summoned up by Endo. The following morning there was a polite knock at the suite door, and one of the waiting staff passed me a carefully sealed sheet of parchment fastened by a complex red wax crest.

Waking the others I joined them for a tremendous and highly enchanted breakfast summoned up by Janga (and augmented by some excellent kippers from the DeLuxury’s kitchens) after which I tore open the wax seal and read the letter.

“It’s from Lashonna,” I announced to my comrades. “An invitation to speak to her at her house tonight – at midnight. She says that she’ll send a carriage to pick us up and take us there.”

And that was why, at 11.30 we were waiting outside the playhouse where we were collected by Kelgorn, Lashonna’s gaunt limping half orc servant who drove us in an extremely comfortable carriage across the city to Misthall Manor; Lashonna’s mansion house. The property was only dwarfed by the unfinished ziggurat and Prince Zeech’s own massive palace. 

The carriage glided to a gentle halt and Kelgorn dismounted and opened the door for us before leading us up through several generously appointed rooms into a book-lined study. Wearing a gold trimmed gown and sipping demurely from a large stone pint pot, Lashonna sat behind a vast desk. She placed her drink down on a low table concealed behind the desk, and dismissed Kelgorn before turning to us.

“Please sit,” she invited us before continuing. “I apologise for the lateness of the hour, but I thought it best not to call too much attention to your visiting me. I understand that you have some interest in a mage named ‘Balakard’?”

I nodded my agreement, and she continued.

“Balakard also came to speak to me some years ago, asking many questions and writing notes in his little book. I wondered what had come of him and his ventures to the Wormcrawl Fissure, and therefore took it upon myself to locate him. The spells I had to hand failed to locate Balakard himself, but I was able to locate his notebook. It appears that the book was recovered by Ilthane, the black dragon slain by… yourselves, I believe.

“Ilthane made her lair under Traitor’s Grave within the city some short distance to the east. If you were able to recover the book and return with it, I may be able to assist you further It will not, however, be a simple question of going to fetch a book – Ilthane had children which may still be lairing in her old nest.”

Not even taking the time to locate Fez (who had not been interested in coming to the playhouse with the rest of us), we headed straight to the cemetery. At the dead of night, the cemetery was wreathed deeply in mist and a series of open graves leaked an awful stench into the night air.

Janga cast a spell and laid his tiny hand on Flynne’s eyes. There was a slight glow which faded as the elf blinked around him before looking purposefully into the cemetery.

“This way,” he announced with certainty. As the first light of dawn etched across the horizon, we reached the cemetary’s very heart, where a wide bush concealed a 10 foot wide stone trapdoor. We felt our way around the edges and were just starting to pull at it when Flynne, and then Janga looked up in different directions.

“Wingbeats,” they said one after the other. Scanning the horizon, we could see four sets of massive dark wings beating at the lightening sky. Each of the creatures had a wingspan of an easy 30 feet, and all four were converging on us as we stood by the trapdoor.

Amidst a rustle of action, Flynne leapt for cover, Endo swigged a potion and faded from sight, and I chanted briefly before also disappearing. Janga looked around with a look of increasing panic on his face. Four long streams of acid lanced down from the dragons as they flew over our heads, and Janga leapt to one side. His heavy armour clanked heavily as he rolled across the floor and came up to one knee having completely avoided most of the acid and only been struck by one of the caustic sprays.

The dragons continued their flight, but were far lower and closer now, and Flynne broke cover shooting a series of arrows into the closest dragon. An appalling series of bloody wounds erupted in the creature’s belly. The tips of the remaining arrows in Flynne’s quiver then erupted in flames at Endo’s invisible chanting.

Janga turned and swung an arm towards the sky whilst calling on the powers of Fahrlanghan. A massive pillar of flame appeared in the air, wreathing the already wounded dragon, and with a high-pitched wailing scream it collapsed to the ground, still burning.

Having already cast a spell of hastening, I dashed across to give Flynne complete invisibility to his foes whatever he might choose to do and then, as Endo cast some spell of tremendous potency which stopped two of the dragons approaching, the third swooped downwards to begin its toothy assault on Janga. Abruptly, at a snarled spell from one of the other dragons, everything went dark for me, but I could still hear Flynne leap up from the branches of a low tree he had been concealed in and swoop away, his cloak rustling slightly as he flew upwards plying his bow as he went. 

I crept out towards where I could hear Janga struggling against the closest dragon, chanting a song of encouragement, and left the edge of the darkness effect to the sight of a large black dragon clawing and biting at Janga’s comparatively tiny armoured body. Two more lines of acid stabbed out over the darkness sphere, spattering around the gnome’s already acid pitted armour, but once again he ducked and weaved away from the worst of them.

Overhead, I could see Flynne blinking in and out of sight, releasing an arrow from his bow every time I could see him, and each shaft slammed home into the body of the dragon fighting Janga, until eventually the great beast could take no more. With a last gurgled exhalation, the beast rolled onto its side, defeated.

Appearing from his invisibility spell, Endo gestured, and despite the distance I could see that one of the two dragons had been struck blind, before it and its sibling took to the skies in flight. Flynne fired shot after shot at their retreating hindquarters, whilst Endo swept towards the floor beneath him with his _Rod of Quickening_, creating a black chasm from which rose a large smoke-wreathed horse which snorted fire from its nostrils. The creature rose from the depths beneath him and took off, the wizard on its back chanting all the while. Such was the phenomenal speed of the phantasmal steed that he was underneath the two dragons in an instant, firing up towards them with a lancing green beam which turned the one with sight into a cloud of dust in a heartbeat.

The last dragon, still completely blind, flapped unsteadily away as Endo wheeled his steed around and trotted back towards us, slapping dust off his cloak whilst beaming towards us with a toothy half-orc grin.

.oOo.

After a great deal of effort, eventually Flynne managed to wrench the trapdoor open, and we crept through it into the earth-walled crumbling passageway beyond. Roots hung through the ceiling and the flickering light from the enchanted torch I held added to the dripping noise and the rank acidic smell to create a thoroughly hostile environment. 

Dropped a short distance, we found ourselves in a craggy chamber, with several piles of smashed glass, broken containers, damaged crates and shattered alchemical equipment. Acid had dripped from the shattered flasks and beakers, scorched the earth beneath and formed into puddles (and in one case a large pool) of wretched fuming liquids. 

My throat began to itch, and Endo sounded raw as he stepped forward chanting the words of a spell of mending to repair the broken glassware, at which point the bubbling pool erupted upwards, spraying acid in all directions. A terrible abomination rose from the bubbling pool dripping foul green liquids from its ‘flesh’, the creature was easily the size of the four dragons which had attacked us outside, perhaps larger, and writhing almost living streams of acid hung from its sides wreathing and cracking. The end of the creature’s long sinuous neck was tipped with five or six skulls, some human, one clearly a dragon, and one a curious amalgam of the two.

Fixing us with a stare from its empty eye sockets, each of the jawbones opened to send a massive stream of bubbling noxious vapours pouring over us all. The burning was terrible, and each of us (except Flynne who had flung himself over the top of the stream) screamed in pain as the acids seeped through gaps in armour. Worse, the fumes from the acidic spray somehow etched into our bones in an instant, leaving us all shivering and feeling cold. My knees suddenly sagged under the weight of my armour and equipment, and I could see all of the others suffering in the same way.

Chanting a spell, Janga dashed towards the pale green creature and tried to deliver the powerful spell which was stored in his outstretched fingers. His hand, however, simply pushed through the creature as though pushing at a hanging curtain. Flynne’s series of arrows either passed through it or bounced off the creature’s many skulls. 

I danced backwards and fired a large blast from the staff I still carried with me, and whilst Endo cast a spell of his own which magically transported him to the corner of the room and out of trouble, the creature lashed out again and again at Janga, leaving long acid-burned welts across his face and arms. The diminutive cleric responded by reaching for it once again, and this time made contact.

The acidic undead squealed in half a dozen voices as bright light blazed from sudden cracks in its ethereal hide; then Flynne’s bowshots slammed into its skulls, shattering two of them and the thing fell back into the acid pool with a tremendous splash.

.oOo.

The treasure hoard came in the form of several bottles and a sheaf of scraps of paper. Balakard’s diary had been here, but had clearly been shredded by one or more of the younger dragons. Much of the text had fallen in one or other of the acid pools and we could salvage only a few of the scraps of paper. 

As I collected these, Endo, Flynne and Janga examined the three small flasks. 

“This one’s designed to give you the toughness of a dragon,” announced Endo. “And this one to make someone more charismatic, whilst the third…”

There was a faint popping noise, and we all turned to see Flynne guzzling the first of the philtres. 

“Hang on!” Endo’s cries were too late. Flynne’s pale elven skin darkened abruptly. A faint scraping noise came from under his armour, and as I moved the perpetual torch close to him we realised that his entire skin had been covered with tiny reflective glittering black dragon scales. 

.oOo.

After we had settled down and I had gingerly drunk the second phial of liquid, we took the scraps of paper and tried to arrange them into some sort of order.

_It is as I suspected. The ancient undead dragon Dragotha is the Herald of Kyuss. He was granted his unlife by the Wormgod well over 15 centuries ago, after he stole the monolith from Kulith-Mar and brought it to his lair in the Rift Canyon. When Dragotha was slain by Tiamat, Kyuss repaid him with the gift on undeath, and in so doing bound him eternally to his will. 

-

Dragotha’s presence in the world has been quiet for the last several Ages. The loss of his phylactery 1,500 years ago left him wary. Yet my research proves he stirs from his long sleep, that he now intends to waken Kyuss after all this time. Why now? What has changed? I fear a journey to the Wormcrawl Fissure to confront the dracolich is my only remaining option.

-

A king without his commander is powerless. It has taken Dragotha nearly 1,500 years to reach this point. If I can remove him now it will certainly be centuries before anything has a chance to release the Wormgod again. I shall leave immediately for the Wormcrawl Fissure and attempt to find Dragotha.

-

The Age of Worms and Kyuss’ resurrection were stopped fifteen centuries ago by the Order of the Storm. Historians believe that the Order died out not long after this victory, hunted down and destroyed by the last surviving members of the cult of Kyuss. These records are incorrect. The Order instead retreated to their stronghold on a secret island called Tilagos. Nobody knows where Tilagos is!

-

The Rite they performed obscured Dragotha’s phylactery from thought, history and sight… as if it never existed at all. But the Order of the Storm were no fools. They suspected Kyuss would one day rise again, that his worms would walk once more.

-

My research continued… It seems that on Tilagos is a library of sorts, a repository of the Order’s lore. It has been sought for centuries by wizards, scholars and explorers, for it is said to be filled with hundreds of years of history, memories, dreams, and of course, secrets. If a written account of what happened to Dragotha’s phylactery exists, it must certainly be there.

-

Tilagos Island… I have found it! It is located in the northern reaches of the Nyr Dyv. It doesn’t appear on any maps.

-

Worse. I’m afraid others are close to learning this as well, in part as an unfortunate result of my own research. My enemies are always quick to nip at my heels! I speak in particular of a simpering dog of a man named Heskin who once served Lashonna. I’m afraid Heskin has been wooed from her side with promises of wealth and power, and has taken word of this discovery to a disreputable man indeed, a powerful priest of Vecna named Darl Zuethos.

-

Complications… Before they built the library, the Order of the Storm drove a lasting bargain with primal elemental forces. They sacrificed their lives to whisk the island’s interior away from the Material Plane. In its place is a barren rock surrounded by an ever-raging storm of such intensity that ships which approach are invariably lost. The island itself appears on no maps, but the stories hint that the druids left a way for those in need to reach their secrets while at the same time warding the place away from the prying eyes of Kyuss’ undead fanatics. 
_
.oOo.

We returned to Misthall Manor, where Lashonna was waiting to receive us. We passed the few scraps of paper to her. After she had taken a while to read through them all, she breathed Heskin’s name and reached into a deep drawer on her desk. Producing a scroll with a lock of hair attached, she announced, “I can help you there. I am rather concerned about ex-employees divulging my secrets, and am therefore in the habit of obtaining scraps of personal matter so that I can keep tabs on them. If you would like, I can scry upon him now.”

We had a brief chat before agreeing to take up her generous offer, and found ourselves sitting around a shallow silver scrying pool. The waters rippled, and we were suddenly looking down on the deck of a swaying ship. An ocean in full tempest was howling around the man who was lashed to the mast with coil after coil of rope. Orc sailors bellowed instructions to one another and dashed frantically from place to place across the ship. 

Almost silently amidst the chaos, two subtly-horned lithe figures dressed in dark silks dropped from the mast above to stand near the man. They clanked back at him contemptuously before being confronted by a heavy-set red skinned humanoid, whose hair seemed to blaze and we could see the rain sizzle as it landed on his hot skin. 

As we watched, two more figures approached. One was a shifty looking bird-like man which wore a dark cloak under which he shielded a repeating crossbow from the rain.

The last was the only true human in the group, clad in blue robes with a repeated eye motif on them. He addressed the man tied to the mast with a sneer in his voice.

“Only a few hours more, Heskin, and we shall see if you shall live or die.”

He cut off abruptly, and then looked up at the very centre of the scrying pool.

“We have guests, Heskin,” he told the man in a mocking voice. “Your journey comes to an early end.”

Saying something I couldn’t quite make out, he drew back his robes from a dark clawed rotting hand and touched Heskin’s cheek. From the point of the touch, a dark stain spread across the man’s face. The stain became darker, and they greyed like coals on a hot fire. The man’s face then cracked and tore as he, screaming silently all the while, collapsed and sagged. His suddenly dry flesh was torn away by the driving wind and the coils of rope fell loose around the base of the mast. 

The water in the scrying pool bubbled and hissed, boiling away in an instant and Lashonna looked around at us, appalled and frightened by what she had seen.

“You must hurry,” she whispered to us urgently. 

We turned to Janga, but he was already casting the words to the spell which would whisk us away to Mage Point on the edge of the Nyr Dyv’s deep waters.

.oOo.

A few brief words with Manzorian’s assistant Cymria told us that Manzorian himself was ‘in one of the lower planes, dealing with an unruly Demon Lord’, and he would not be in a position to help us. We headed to the dock, and a few minutes conversation with a sullen and mutilated sailor showed us that an area a dozen leagues to the north was covered in storm.

Endo cast a couple of spells, and we headed off in haste and style.


----------



## killjoy68116

Well worth the wait! If only my players had half the talent for write-ups that you have!


----------



## Eccles

Picture the scene... 

The beach is wide and shallow, and between the sand and the whirling storm stands a series of jagged tall rocks rising from the wild surf. The tremendous storm rises from the seas, whipping the water high into the air and it falls as a fine salty spray. The rocks, and the beach beyond, are littered with worn pieces of wood from the many dozens of ships which have been smashed against this most hostile of shorelines. 

One of the vessels, clearly recently grounded, has shattered and split almost into two pieces at the very edge of the water. Its mast has been shattered and sails split by the driving wind and the impact, and of the crew there is no sign.

Suddenly, with a tremendous gout of water bursting from its spout, a massive black whale crests the surf. For a moment, it coasts neatly on the waves between the jagged rocks to settle on the edge of the beach. Yawning widely, the leviathan opens its huge mouth to reveal an intricate oaken door banded with burnished copper. 

As the whale's chest heaves, the doors swing open on a most peculiar scene. Beyond the doors, impossibly, there is a vast room with a tall domed ceiling through which shines beautiful sunlight. At the centre of the room is a long table covered with silverware and crystal decanters, and the food being served looks like it has been drawn from the very heavens. 

A small group of disparate people turn to face the scene of the beach. A lithe dark-skinned elfin figure saunters towards the doorway as a spectral figure glides smoothly towards the portal lowering a set of steps into place. As he steps onto the sand his scaled skin glistens in the mist.

He is followed by a gnome whose platemail has clearly been burnished until it gleams by the unseen servants beyond, and after him comes a man - not a man, but something of human size. Its dark skin, feral aspect and filed teeth marks it out as a savage. Hefting an axe over its shoulder, the man moves slightly awkwardly as though he has not yet adjusted to some strange changes which have recently come over his body.

Finally, fastening his boots which have just been polished and handed to him by another of the small army of invisible and spectral waiters, a fourth man places a crystal goblet onto a tray being held to his right, then leaps down onto the beach carrying a lute over his shoulder and saunters up the beach to join them.

Behind them, striding out of the surf where the whale had been an instant before, a gaunt half orc moves to join them, the words of a spell on his lips which is already removing the salt and water from his robes whilst simultaneously warding off the spray. Ghosts and skeletal figures seem to dance in the bubbling surf at his heels.

Together, the five adventurers turn to face inland.


----------



## Eidalac

Now that is an _*Entrance*_.


----------



## Eccles

Not an update as such, but I've written an updated profile of Evan on the character board here.

If any of my comrades wish to post their own characters there, then feel free!


----------



## Eccles

Once we had taken in the beach we had landed on, we headed towards the broken boat, but Flynne and Fez were both distracted by movement on the bluff above us. I didn’t realise what was going on initially, as Fez’s exaggerated movements were still alien to me. Since drinking the third of the potions which we had found in Ilthane’s lair he had grown to over six feet in height, and the Halfling (usually so dextrous and nimble in his movements) was struggling with limbs which had stretched to twice their previous length and he was frequently treading on his immense feet.

Eventually, however, I realised that he was looking up at movement on the rocks above us, and peering in the same direction I could see a group of ten hulking orcs clutching weapons and looking back down at us. We hesitated before launching an attack, and I shouted a greeting to the orcs in their own language.

“Me Grogriss Spliteye,” yelled their bow armed leader. “We bring others here, and they leave us alone. We try to follow them inland, but we were stopped by rocks with ropes.”

“It is possible we could get you to safety,” I yelled back. “My companions have considerable spells and they might be able to use them for you if you can give us what we need. Tell us of the people you brought here.”

The orc considered for a moment, then called back down. “Agreed. We brought a human here, with others. A strange bird woman with a knife and a clever crossbow, two… what is your word… monks named Dalagar and Sabir Sinfire. There was also the Flaming One.” His description of a tall winged Horned Devil filled us all (except Fez) with concern. 

Having told the orcs that we would be back in a few hours and secreted them all in a small portal summoned up by Endo awaiting our return. We then headed up the beach, where we saw a series of badly weather beaten and crumbling walls, which still reached some 20 to 30 feet over our heads in places. Looking left to right, we could see that the maze of walls reached from one side of the small island to the other. 

Having cast a carefully chosen array of spells, we picked our way inland, and towards the very centre of the ‘maze’, we found a sudden array of stalagmites dotted around the rocky floor. Many of them had complex runes carvesd into them, and crystals sprouting from their sides. The runes were written in druidic, the only language for which I had been unable to find a teacher, and so Janga cast a spell to allow him to read them.

He bent to look at the runes, whilst I stood looking at the sky trying to figure out how so many stalagmites had formed in the middle of nowhere. Fez was off to one side, Flynne was hiding somewhere whilst Endo was clinging to a wall taking advantage of his new cloak of the spiders. 

Suddenly, several of the stalagmites burst into action. Massive flailing tendrils burst forth and began to lash at us. I could see some substance on the writhing limbs, which seemed to lash out at each of us intending to grab and draw us towards the crystalline maws which had opened on 6 of the stalagmites. The air was filled with the flailing ropes, and they slapped down madly onto myself and my colleagues.

And slid straight off again, thanks to the layer of protective warding which Janga had carefully placed onto us before we headed inland. Drawing my crossbow from the recesses of a very deep bag, I began firing shot after shot into the creatures, whilst Fez smashed at them with his heavy axe. Within the space of a minute or two, the air was still and the ground was covered in a thick layer of crystalline rubble and ichor. 

.oOo.

We pushed on through the maze, and after walking for a minute or two I stopped abruptly – Janga clattered into my back and demanded to know why I’d halted. Pointing at a wall directly in front of me as I peered through my glasses, I announced, “That wall there – it’s loaded with powerful magic, illusionary unless I miss my guess.”

We all concentrated hard on the wall, trying to figure out the trick before stepping reluctantly through the solid-seeming surface. Beyond was a still-warm campfire and a single bedroll in which Flynne found a couple of small dark feathers. We immediately drew weapons and started looking around for a hidden kenku attacker. 

Seeing nothing, our march continued with more caution. Flynne crept forwards, and within a few moments we could see his arm (which blended almost perfectly with a bush) indicating that he had heard something. We moved up to join him but could hear nothing as Flynne leapt off into the undergrowth to his right, firing arrows as he went. From beyond a wall I could hear the thump of one of his arrows striking flesh as Flynne shouted “it’s invisible!”

The rogue then dashed towards the unseen foe, his arms outstretched as a series of small bolts whipped past him. As he grunted once, I crumpled a scroll between my hands and flung it towards the foe and it transformed into a glowing mass of dust which settled around the invisible form of the crossbow armed kenku woman. 

Clearly visible, she croaked a short few words and disappeared from sight once again.

“Teleported,” grunted Endo in frustration, and we all stood back to back with our weapons raised for several seconds before breaking into a jog through the maze away from our previous position.

.oOo.

We emerged from the high stone walls without further incident, where we could see a black stone circular pedestal shaped like a disk set into the floor. Around the lip of this obsidian were three deep eye-shaped pits whose centre were missing. Janga squatted to read the words which entwined these symbols, announcing that they said “Return my eyes to me and I shall gaze through the storm”. 

Endo and I took turns to examine the pedestal, and I started to tickle the enchantments around it; my _clair de lunettes_ helping me identify where to inject tiny slivers of mystical power and where to draw the item’s focus. Within the space of a minute or so I had it, and the entire pedestal suddenly thrummed with potency. The centre of the disk was suddenly filled with a door-shaped portal.

Behind me, Fez suddenly looked deeply uncomfortable and started to edge away.

“What’s wrong,” I asked him and he continued to back away from the portal as he replied. “Dunno. I just don’t wanna be here any more. Need to get back to the beach.”

I smiled at the recently resized pygmy as I told him, “If you absolutely can’t stay here, there is another option.” As he nodded, I carried on. “I could cast a spell to get you straight back to the beach in a heartbeat, if you’re content to go that way.”

He agreed in a heartbeat, and I cast the spell to whisk us both away from the spot we were standing, and as we went through my glittering door there was a tiny instant where Fez realised that my _dimension door_ opened a quarter of an inch away from the dark portal and we both passed through it in turn.

.oOo.

On the other side, Fez was pale and screaming in agony, clutching his stomach as pain wracked him. Janga and I produced curative wands and helped him recover before we looked to our surroundings. 

We stood on the edge of a dense forest, from which came a cacophony of noise from insects, birds and a strange green glow which faded in and out of sight as it went behind trees. Away in the opposite direction lay a range of mountains, with lightning crashing down towards the peaks. 

From the forest four tall armoured figures stepped out towards us. Each of them had a long pole thrusting skywards from its back, and at the top of each pole flapped a banner. Each banner was a different colour; one the red of fire, the second the brown and grey of rock and earth. The third was a pale sky blue patterned with lines of wind whilst the last was the deeper blue/green of water.

One stepped slightly ahead of the others and spoke.

“I am Tylanthros, guardian of this realm. We protect the secrets of this island from all trespassers. You have mastered the portal of storms, and therefore must be brave, but it remains to be seen if you belong here at all. Why have you come to Last Resort?”

“We have come to your realm to thwart the plans of Darl Zuethos and prevent the second coming of the Age of Worms,” I answered, and there was a short pause before Tilagos spoke again.

“You seek the Fountain,” he told us. If the waters are consumed, the secrets of this place will be undone. The powers kept from the world will be released, and the great creatures of legend imprisoned here on this isle shall be unleashed upon the Material Plane once more. You say you are heroes? This remains to be seen. Accomplish four tasks and prove yourselves to be the heroes of old returned.

“The Fountain of Dreams shall know those destined for its gifts in but one way. It will know them by the Trials of Tilagos. Survive these trials, and you may slake your thirst on what you seek. Fail, and Last Resort shall be your grave. I am Tylanthros, and the first trial is the Claiming of Krathanos’ Golden Belt.”

 “I am Beskawahn,”, said the next figure, “and the second trial is the Silence of the Doomshroud’s Mournful Song.”

The third spoke, “I am Thadimar, and the third trial is the Death of the Thorn Vale Nightmare.”

Finally, the last creature spoke, “I am Sayren-Lei, and the final trial is the Harvest of the Living Feather of the Roc King.”

“Return here once the trials are complete,” said Tylanthros, and the four figures faded back into the edge of the thick woods.

“Wait,” I cried after them. “Will you not aid us in thwarting the one who claimed the arm of Vecna? Do you fear nothing of handing such knowledge to a cleric of evil?”

The tall figures turned, and Tylanthos intoned, “We are not interested in such concerns. We are neutral.” And with that, they were gone.

.oOo.

After a short discussion, we looked around for a clue as to where to head, and eventually decided to head North on the trail of footprints which Fez had discovered in the lush grasses. Ensuring our weapons were loose in their sheathes, we headed after Darl Zuethos’ band.

.oOo.

We headed away from the forests across a vast plain and up into the highlands, with Fez, our tracker, telling us that we were perhaps 6 hours behind those we were pursuing. The land became craggier, and eventually the tracks stopped amidst thick vegetation which rose around us as the ground plunged into a deep valley. The far end of the valley rose sharply into cliffs, but the intervening two and a half miles were covered with phenomenally thick and lush vegetation and from every plant protruded hundreds of vicious barbed thorns. Experimentally, Fez pushed at the closest of the thorn bushes. He pulled his arm away covered in scratches and lacerations.

We decided to bypass the thorns completely, and Endo cast another of his transfiguration spells, transforming both himself and his familiar into large green coloured dragons, and we mounted them before they took to the air, hurtling over the spike-filled valley.

.oOo.

On the other side, we could see a single cave some 30 feet above the thorns, from which rose a thick fugue of steam. The two dragons landed within the cave before transforming back into the half orc and his raven familiar. Once settled, we looked around to see that the cave was deep and wide, with three deep crevasses tearing through the floor from side to side as we looked deeper.

From each of these chasms poured vast quantities of incredibly hot steam, soaking us all through immediately. We discussed how to cross these three chasms to reach whatever might be in the darkness beyond – Flynne could make out a tremendously large creature which loomed in the darkness waiting for us – our challenge. 

Janga cast a spell, and tones of stone suddenly formed across the first chasm making a perfect bridge over the sweltering heat of the steam. As Endo prepared a spell of his own, Flynne took sight with his bow and fired a single shot. Immediately, we all heard a low rumbling growl which echoed through the cave, and a cloud of fire-flecked smoke surrounded us all. Yelling in surprise, we scattered, and then Endo completed the words for his spell. 

Peering through the steam and the smoke, we could see that the steam was parted on either sides of an unseen platform.

Ignoring the smoke, Flynne stood within it all and found the range of the creature, firing arrow after arrow towards it, and the Fez hurtled across the three magical bridges, yelling in fury as he went. 

Through the fumes, I could see Fez running in with his axe raised, and the vast creature lowered its head, practically spitting the savage on one of a pair of massive pale tusks. Fez struck the creature once with a tremendous overhead blow, before it responded with a positive frenzy of tusks, claws and bites. Fez was torn limb from limb by the rending tearing creature in a riot of gore.

Aghast, we paused before leaping into action, fighting for our very survival. Endo cast a spell to try and blind it, but it shook the spell off. A second spell from the half orc brought Fez’s body flying back to our feet.

In a blur of motion, the creature leapt across the crevasses, covering the distance between us in a matter of seconds, pouncing on Flynne.

Under the effects of a potion of flight, Janga swooped down and dragged the scaled elf away, before Endo launched a dark ray of enfeeblement at it – the huge form sagged under the magics. The half orc then cast a second spell, and a crashing bolt of lightning blasted between the monstrous abomination and my necromancer friend. He had targeted himself with his own magics to ensure that the bolt would focus onto his intended target.

As it roared in annoyance at the lightning bolt, Flynne continued to pepper it with arrows from a short distance. I stood near it whilst chanting encouragement, and the beast charged at Endo, stabbing him deeply with one of its massive tusks. To my left, Janga cast a powerful spell of restoration on Flynne, and brought him back towards me and the creature.

Face to face with the creature, Endo hesitated, giving me a second to cast a powerful spell of invisibility on Flynne; and flickering in and out of sight he fired a series of arrows deeply into the monster’s flanks. 

Endo pointed, and his outstretched finger turned skeletal for an instant – the green ray shattered on the beast’s mystical protections. Turning, he dashed away to join the rest of us, and as he went his side was torn open by one of the razor sharp tusks.

The beast then leapt high into the air, landing amidst us and sending us sprawling to the floor. Janga cast a curative spell on the mage, whilst I sang a final song of encouragement, and with massive preparation lavished on him he fired four more arrows  which sank to their fletchings into the beast. 

With a towering crash, it collapsed to the floor.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

A fine write up again there Mr Nik!

Did feel sorry for the ropers - we'd stuck Freedom of Movement on to avoid something else we were expecting - it really did them no favours. Awww.


Bah - the damn cave dwelling thing ripped Fez to bits in a single round - close to 200Hp dealt, I think.... meaning I got to sit there for 2 hours watching everyone stay alive and kill it - with great creativity I'll add.

Unfortunately feel this will have to knock some caution into Fez. And might teach me not to underestimate things. Or play whilst unfocused. 

Some combination of those things at least. 


Oh - and somehow missed this bit:



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> There was no sympathy for that evil kitten-worm. None!
> 
> Man, that was a fun game.




Hehe - that kitten/worm situation was awesome! Thanks for providing us with that one.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

I've added a rogues gallery entry for Fez now as well. Seemed a good idea on a slow morning!

It's here.


----------



## 3V1L_N3CR0

just delurking to say great writing and shutter in terror of the creature capable of smoking a lvl14 barbarian in one full attack... oh yeah go Endo  necromancers ftw.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

3V1L_N3CR0 said:
			
		

> just delurking to say great writing and shutter in terror of the creature capable of smoking a lvl14 barbarian in one full attack... oh yeah go Endo  necromancers ftw.




To be fair, it's my own fault! Underestimated the thing and it splatted me. Would have been an entirely different story with the correct buffing and preparations. 

Ah well, it's all a learning experience.

Yeah - Necromancers do rock and Endo has been played great - found it a real eye opener watching him in action.


----------



## Eccles

Having collected a number of enchanted weapons and other items from the fallen bodies which had lain at the feet of the Nightmare, we retreated with Fez’s body to the portal. Having passed through, we teleported to the Free City. Once there, we entered into a flurry of activity, selling many of the items (except a massive and heavily enchanted scythe which we felt Fez might enjoy) in order to pay for his resurrection. Once done, we took a few hours to rest before leaping magically back to the island of Tilagos, leaving Endo behinds as he claimed he had “research to complete”. 

Having once again activated the portal back to the hidden library’s location, I once again persuaded Fez that stepping through a dimension door would be perfectly straightforward and the quickest way to get away from the menacing aura and into a patch of orcs I’d assured him I’d noticed on the way here.

After healing his injuries in Tilagos’ hidden centre, we once again took our bearings before deciding that a roc was likely to live in the mountains, and a roc king would be likely to live in the tallest mountain of all. We therefore headed for the hills, and after a number of hours hard walking we reached the tallest of them all in the very centre of the range of massive hills. 

Once there, I sifted some of the stones through my fingers and stared up at the heights, casting my mind back over forgotten tales and legends. Unbidden, words began to float to my mind.

“Blood Feather Peak, home of the king of birds. His feathers hold the key.”

The ascent to the very top of Blood Feather Peak was terrible. At least it was for the others. Flynne and Fez, roped together with an enchanted rope of climbing slogged from crag to crevice, fighting against the elements as they struggled upwards. Janga, awestruck by the enormous slope and utterly unable to struggle upwards under the weight of his heavy armour, quaffed a potion and began clambering up the rocks with the grace of a spider.

For myself, I activated the power of my recently purchased boots, and rose gracefully alongside my compatriots occasionally pulling myself closer to the mountain whilst keeping myself ready to cast a spell should any of the others fall.

.oOo.

At the top was a disappointing scene of devastation. Blood lay thick amidst a massive nest, and to one side lay the corpse of the roc king. Looking around, Fez found the tracks of four humanoid figures, one larger and sporting heavy claws, which had fought the roc king before flying away to the south. 

Shrugging, Fez pulled out a feather, and then we all turned south ourselves and flung ourselves, as one, off the mountain.

.oOo.

The fall was exhilarating, arrested at the very bottom of a tremendous overhang by a spell I cast to arrest our descent. We landed gently and strode to the south, pausing only so that Janga could cast a spell to try to locate the ‘Doomshroud’ and ‘Krathanos’. 

This done, we picked our way south into a massive forest. The branches entwined thickly over our heads, and barely any light reached the forest floor. Despite the lack of wind, the leaves and branches rustled and roots seemed somehow to find their way into our paths.

After walking through the dark forest for what seemed like hours, we began to hear a mournful sound weaving between the trunks. We walked onwards and the dirge became louder. Despite my efforts to lighten the mood with a song of my own, it was clear that we were all becoming dispirited; except Flynne, who was protected by the powers of the belt we had won during the Free City championship. 

We were drawn, somehow inexorably, to a small clearing at the centre of which was a 50 foot tall black tree whose long branches danced like serpents. 

Again I tried to lighten the mood with music of my own, as the dirge sent out by the tree, but my tune slid into the depths to accompany it, rather than lifting our spirits. 

As my comrades began to prepare for combat, I did my best to join them; tears pouring down my face as I cast a small handful of spells.

Flynne then fired his bow, and a specially prepared arrow slammed into the trunk, encasing the tree in a globe of silence and the mood in the clearing improved in an instant. Fez then dashed in, and the tree swatted him with one massive branch. Both the barbarian and Janga yelled in pain at the same time, and I could see a sympathetic bruise blossoming across Janga’s face.

Using the scythe we had captured, Fez slashed a mark across the tree, before a gale force wind blasted from it in all directions, making Flynne curse and put his bow away, but sliding around and over us due to layers of protective magics. Janga blasted the tree with lightning from a recently captured mace, and I cast another spell whilst Flynne quaffed a potion making his arm blur as he drew his sword. 

Fez struck the tree once again, and it began to seep a thick black sap, before it shuddered.

Suddenly, I could see things moving at the corners of my vision. Spinning, I could see my comrades fighting the tree, and also creeping out of the undergrowth around me. As they drew closer, their features seemed to soften and then go grey – smooth grey doppelganger faces closed in on me when, as one, they drew from their belts long shears. As they drew closer and closer, the shears scythed together making a series of metallic snipping noises. 


Then it came. As the doppelgangers got into reach, they danced away from my rapier-point and then sliced again and again. The razor-sharp blades cut again and again at my tongue, and I could feel my mouth welling up with blood, and tried my utmost to scream. The best I could manage was a burbling moan as I sank to my knees. The doppelgangers darted in, sensing victory, and the blades sank deep into me as I collapsed.

The world went black.


----------



## Eccles

I awoke lying on a cold stone slab in the temple to Fahrlanghan in the Free Cities, my comrades standing over me. Grinning, Fez announced, “We kill tree. Chop chop chop. Tree fell down. Only after Evan fell down. Fez not see why Evan fall down, as Fez being attacked by tiny women at the time.”

To celebrate my return from the dead, we had a vast and heavily enchanted breakfast (supplied by Fahrlanghan at Janga’s request), before we all teleported back to Tilagos. I activated the portal once again, and then saw Fez was already turning to leave.

“Fez not getting into your doorway this time. Fez not stupid.”

I smiled disarmingly. “Of course not, my friend. I wouldn’t dream of trying to trick you. I’ll escort you away myself. Just let me ensure we won’t get spotted. I’m sure I saw something from the top of that wall over there…”

I gestured towards the wall as I cast a spell, taking Fez by the shoulders before turning away and guiding him towards the shore – straight into dimension door I had placed behind him. With a wail, he was dragged through into the portal once again.

.oOo.

Back in the demiplane that was Tilagos, we headed southeast, guided once more by Janga’s deity. Passing through the forest, which seemed somehow lighter already with the death of the great black tree at its heart, we reached the sight of the coast. Overlooking the roaring waters, we could see a massive weathered keep – the towers were crumbling and the heavy stones flaked at their edges. 

Pausing at a point overlooking this edifice, I concentrated once again, and ancient legends came to my mind. 

“The bound titan Krathanos places himself above his surrounds, but is brought low by a malady of the mind.”

Turning myself undetectable, I activated my boots once again, and floated high in the sky to look down on the fortress. From up high I could see that the building was a hollow square of stone walls, with three crude cages lying to one side each containing three many-armed white gorilla-like creatures. 

Against the eastern wall lay a massive figure some 25 feet tall, with long lank hair, ragged clothes and heavily battered half plate armour. Next to his sleeping form lay a truly immense spiked warhammer, perhaps three times as long as I was tall. 

Pausing to discuss out options briefly, we cast a huge sequence of spells on Janga, at which point he flew away invisibly, hasted, silently, displaced, undetectable and boosted with several of my more potent bardic chants. Before he faded from sight, Fez passed him his massive scythe.

From some distance away, we could hear the scythe strike home and bite deeply. An instant later, there was a bellow of rage. Gargoyles sprang from the walls in a panicked flock, and a second towering titan leapt from his hiding place at the centre of the fortress. 

Unseen, I could hear Flynne yelling “It’s a decoy! Leg it!”

We fled.


----------



## Eccles

My first death... In this campaign, anyway...   

Oh, and Flynne's assault on what turned out to be a polymorphed gorillon killed it stone dead, after it failed its DC _99_(!!!) Fort save...

Next up. We encounter a titan. (ulp!)


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Eccles said:
			
		

> My first death... In this campaign, anyway...
> 
> Oh, and Flynne's assault on what turned out to be a polymorphed gorillon killed it stone dead, after it failed its DC _99_(!!!) Fort save...
> 
> Next up. We encounter a titan. (ulp!)




An insane titan, no less.   

The death was a real shame - after the problems with the nightmare beast the week before we took steps to prepare for this one - lots of buffing. However the 9th level spells it attacked us with were problematic. _Weird_ is dead scary!


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

I've only read up to page 8, but man oh man, I LOVE this gmae of yours. The storytelling is simply amazing, how you, Eccles, turn a simple "I attack the orc - roll a d20- I hit for 8 damage" into an epic maneuver! And while still keeping things simple, no less. I can't stop reading the adventure path as you describe it, my eyes are burning from reading on and on (one more page, I keep telling myself at 2 AM...).

The whole 3-temple section was brutal. I don't know if it was the module, the DM, or a combination of both that made things so deadly, but either way, that was really a struggle. There were parts in which I couldn't believe you guys kept going on and on after having battled with tough enemies (clerics and tieflings, for instance), and I almost fainted when I read about the uber-boss battle at the end of the temple, and you weren't rested at all!!! So many times I was thinking "Oh shoot, they're goners", but you've prevailed nonetheless.

Please keep posting the journals of your bard, Mr. Eccles   

By the way, there's a spell effect that Edon casts that has me puzzled. You describe it as a "robed skeleton embracing the necromancer", and I can't figure out what spell it represents.  :\


----------



## Supaida

It's good to see this story hour is still going. Keep on keeping on, bard guy and his crazy friends!

(If it makes you feel any better, I would have appreciated the carved naga-skeleton. Nobody ever gives me an awesome gift like that.)


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Cerulean_Wings - glad you're enjoying the story there! 

Yeah - we felt the same in the temple - it did get that feeling of "How much more of this can we take?". The Aspect at the end was simply terrifying. Can still recall that fight clearly. Am certain that if Steves Ray of Enfeeblement hadn't punched through the SR then we would all have died. Yet another fight salvaged by Necromancy - a common theme in this campaign!

I'm pretty sure the 'robed skeleton embrace' is Endo/Steves extra grisly version of False Life.

On the GM/module thing: 

It's a really vicious adventure path - many of the combats have been very difficult - and it just keeps getting tougher as we go on. But it's a lot of fun and has a cool story underpinning it all.

Our DM (Russ) really doesn't pull the punches, uses sensible monster tactics and rolls the dice out in the open... which can be pretty lethal! Get the feeling he's rooting for us to win - even while the monsters are flat out trying to kill us. 


Supaida

Agree entirely! It was such a shame that gift didn't go down well at all. It had quite a bit of thought go into it and was a thorougly rocking idea. Unfortunately, sometimes the half orc necromancer will roll a 1 on his diplomacy check...

Can't recall if it's in the story text, but our host was so upset with the gifts from me (Fez) and Steve (Endo) that he tried to poison us at dinner - we didn't notice because we'd all had a _Heroes Feast_ for breakfast and were immune to poison - Russ told us later whilst taunting us.


----------



## Morrus

I've really enjoyed this campaign so far.  Unfortunately, it's entering the level range which I don't thematically enjoy so much - everyone is flying, invisible, immune to everything, etc.  For me, that's not Sword & Sorcery, it's Superman (not that i don't enjoy a superhero game from time to time).

That's just a taste thing, though; everyone's mileage varies on that.  I'm certainly still having fun, and I hope the players are!  It is getting into the "lots of high level options that I can't track" realm on the DM front; that's always been my biggest weakness as a DM - I start to get out of my depth, and I'm fairly sure it shows.

Timing-wise, it looks like this campaign will dovertail neatly with the 4E release, which is convenient!


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Morrus, I know how you feel; I've DMed high level campaigns (above level 20!) and it really does get out of control. What kept me going was the story, mainly.

I noticed you did some heavy editing in the lizard-folk lair, with King Shukak and all. Mind giving me the summary of changes you did?


----------



## Eccles

Cerulean_Wings said:
			
		

> I noticed you did some heavy editing in the lizard-folk lair, with King Shukak and all. Mind giving me the summary of changes you did?




Did he? Harsh... OK, Morrus - you been editing my posts to make us look dumb or somefing?

And not to spoil the surprise pending the next post, quick sweepstake on how many PCs (level 14-15) died during the fight with CR21 titan and his levelled up minions?


----------



## Quartz

Eccles said:
			
		

> And not to spoil the surprise pending the next post, quick sweepstake on how many PCs (level 14-15) died during the fight with CR21 titan and his levelled up minions?




Either none or a near TPK.


----------



## Morrus

Cerulean_Wings said:
			
		

> I noticed you did some heavy editing in the lizard-folk lair, with King Shukak and all. Mind giving me the summary of changes you did?




Unfortunately, I can't remember.  It was months ago!


----------



## Darmanicus

Cerulean_Wings said:
			
		

> By the way, there's a spell effect that Edon casts that has me puzzled. You describe it as a "robed skeleton embracing the necromancer", and I can't figure out what spell it represents.  :\




That spell is simply 'Mage Armour' given some funky visuals.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Nooooo! I have come to the end of the updates!

Drat.

Still, they've been immensely enjoyable and I hope to continue reading them as soon as they are updated (hint hint).

Loving the necromancy - it makes a change to see a party that doesn't use much in the way of Evocation to do their damage! I'm guessing trying to cast _ray of enfeeblement_ on a Titan might not work all that well...


----------



## Darmanicus

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Loving the necromancy - it makes a change to see a party that doesn't use much in the way of Evocation to do their damage! I'm guessing trying to cast _ray of enfeeblement_ on a Titan might not work all that well...




Sometimes the Necromancy is great and sometimes it's infuriating. Save for nothing can really start to wind you up when the bad guys keep on making saves; it's even worse when you have to get past SR..........."Oh I rolled an 18, I just got past it's SR, make a DC 26 Fort save scumbag!!!"........"Made it".........."bugger"   

When it works however the effects can be insane. I always keep an Empowered RoE to hand now and it's been the bane of many a bad guy. 'Weeping Wounds' is another great spell which I should definitely start using more often now that Flynne gets more shots in a round than an UZI on full auto! +1d6 damage to everyone elses damage is nasty! Combine that with the 'Flame Arrow' spell for Flynne and his bow is a surefire death sentence to anyone that gets in its sights.

Now that I've just hit 15th level, with the last 2 levels taken in Archmage I really plan to start having some fun. I've taken the 'Mastery of Shaping' ability so that I can now use my AoE spells far more effectively and more importantly the 'Arcane Reach' ability, giving my touch attacks a 30ft reach.....

Mwhahahahaha!!!


----------



## darkhall-nestor

How about some updated character stat blocks


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Darmanicus said:
			
		

> Now that I've just hit 15th level, with the last 2 levels taken in Archmage I really plan to start having some fun. I've taken the 'Mastery of Shaping' ability so that I can now use my AoE spells far more effectively and more importantly the 'Arcane Reach' ability, giving my touch attacks a 30ft reach.....
> 
> Mwhahahahaha!!!




Arcane Reach? Eeeek.

I guess that takes away the need for those Spectral Hand spells you've been flinging around. I presume you're still going to be described it in a similar way?


----------



## Darmanicus

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Arcane Reach? Eeeek.
> 
> I guess that takes away the need for those Spectral Hand spells you've been flinging around. I presume you're still going to be described it in a similar way?




Yes and yes.

Good thing about 'Arcane Reach' vs 'Spectral Hand' is the no limit on the level of spell you can use with it.

Mind you, SH has a far greater reach


----------



## Eccles

Having cast a spell and asked Fahrlanghan whether there was “any way we could obtain the belt without fighting with the titan who was wearing it”, he repeated to us his God’s message that “A bargain may yield results, although avoid the madness trigger”. 

I followed this up with a spell of my own, trying to learn more about the titan himself. “Kranathos the titan desires freedom above all. A gracious host, remain his honoured guest lest you induce his madness”, came my response.

Swallowing hard, I cast a spell and ambled off towards the fortress, leaving my companions behind. Once I had almost reached the stone walls, four gargoyles detached from the walls and swooped down to stand before me. One hopped forwards, and spoke. “Krathanos the Conqueror, exiled by the gods for his designs to rule all of creation, and shackled by the treacherous druids of Tilagos until such time as brave stalwarts arrive to free him, bids you welcome, and invites you to partake of his hospitality. You will be given food and shelter as you desire.”

“I would be obliged and humbled,” I replied, and was escorted into the fortress by the hulking bow-armed gargoyles, as two others watched from the walls. There, I approached the massive titan who was standing near one wall. Up close, I could see he had a huge string of black pearls around his neck and a vast sack hanging from his belt. 

I bowed, and introduced myself to Kranathos, suppressing any nerves from my voice as I did so. 

“Come. You will eat with me,” he boomed. “The honour and hospitality of the titans is legendary. What is it that you would feast upon?”

There was a momentary pause, before I told him that whatever he had in mind would be fine, and then started to explain my predicament. As I was telling the story, to the best of my ability I could see him starting to fall into my tale and becoming enmeshed in it, before suddenly his eyes glazed over and snarled at me. 

“Bored now,” he announced. “You speak like the other one who came and aske about my belt.” 

“Another one?”

“Yes,” he replied as he reached into his sack and withdrew what looked for all the world like a raggedly torn-off cow’s head. “They sent a minotaur to parley with me, but I killed it. I hate things whose heads are different to their bodies. But I would take off my belt and give it to you if you can to one small thing for me. I wish to be away from this place. I have been here long enough and it is time for me to be free.”

I sent a signal, and was joined before too long by Fez, Janga and Endo. As they approached, I tried to explain to the titan that if we completed our quest then he would be freed, but he was simply not having it. Once there, Endo cast one of his most powerful spells.

“I wish,” he announced, that the titan Kranathos be transferred to the Prime Material plane as soon as he releases his belt.”

The titan glowered down at us all, suddenly furious.

“That was not what we agreed,” he bellowed. “How dare you impugn my honour! I had agreed only to give you the belt after I was taken away from this pitiful realm. I will consent for one of you to transfer with me and I shall give them the belt.”

There was something slightly out of place. His body language, his voice, all completely believable, but looking at my colleagues I could tell that none of them believed a word the titan was saying either. 

“Mighty sir,” said Endo. “The spell has been cast, and you heard me word it. You have only to release the belt, and you will be freed…”

“Do not anger me,” bellowed the titan, before his mood abruptly changed. “There is another way. You could reach a bargain. Perhaps 350,000 pieces of gold or magical trinkets which amuse me sufficiently, and I could be persuaded to part with it…”

We looked at one another once again. 

“Can we retreat a short distance, sir?” I was cautious as I asked him. “I would wish to speak to my comrades before we invest so much wealth for but one item.

As he nodded, we retreated back to rejoin Flynne. 

.oOo.

When we returned, we were all invisible, enhanced beyond all recognition with an awesome array of spells, bardsongs and potions. Each of us was invisible and flying after one fashion or another, and Fez had been turned into a towering annis hag, _displaced_ and protected with every single protective ward known to bard, wizard or cleric-kind. We were as ready for combat as we were physically capable of being, and hurtled towards the tower.

Drawing close and unable to make out either the gargoyles or the titan, I unleashed a tremendous blast of fire on the caged girallons. Amidst a massive explosion, all but one of the creatures was killed. Immediately afterwards, the 6 gargoyles stood from their places of hiding around the walls, and plied their terrible bows. 

Well over 20 arrows slammed into the ground around me and scythed through my armour. The protection from my _cloak of displacement_ was nothing to that much fire, and I was in agony in a heartbeat. 

I could not see my friends advance, but suddenly the titan blinked into existence amidst a roar of magic. He was flying, and was right next to Flynne – swinging his terrible morningstar again and again and sending blood spattering in all direction. Looking horribly dazed, Flynne’s flight became slow and erratic as he practically staggered through the air away from the titan.

I heard Fez screaming before he blinked into sight 30 feet from the titan. He closed in a mad wailing dash and slashed a heavy claw across its chest. Kranathos barely even blinked.

To one side I could hear Endo casting another ‘wish’ spell, whilst to the other Janga had clearly cast a spell of his own curing Flynne of all of his injuries. Then one of the gargoyles turned on the roof and used some object on Janga’s enchantments, stripping many of them away before the other 5 fired shot after shot at the heavily armoured gnome. 

Backing away from the titan and fading from sight, Flynne fired once again at the closest gargoyle with the magic-dispelling item, before the titan raised his morningstar.

A blast of lightning crashed from the head of the weapon, blasting past Janga and then washing over Fez (who had been protected against lightning at Endo’s recommendation). The titan then spun his morningstar over and over again at the barbarian’s annis hag form. Each of the lethal strikes was swung with precision, and each of them either scraped off his massively enchanted flesh or slammed straight through the face of the displaced image of the barbarian I had created.

Fez slashed and clawed at the titan, and we realized that the titan was also displaced.

At this point, Endo acted. The sound of congo drums began to echo around the fortress,as Endo cast one of his newest spells – ‘Endo’s Dirge of Deathly Drums’. His invisible familiar swooped in, but somehow the titan picked it out and swatted it with his massive weapon. The brave raven flew in and touched the titan, and it started to twitch. The huge titan began to dance, and I could hear Endo yell out a triumphant “YES!” from off to my left.

Almost immediately, the gargoyle at the front of the fortress turned, and fired off his enchanted item. To all of our immense frustration, Endo’s spell was broken and the titan was freed. 

Flynne shot the gargoyle, killing it, but it was too late, and Kranathos acted swiftly. Once again lightning arced around Fez, before every single lethal blow from the morningstar passed through his images once more. Fez countered by latching two claws into the titan and heaving a deep wound into its abdomen as Fez’s, Janga’s and my wounds were healed at an invocation from Janga. 

Chanting rapidly, Endo managed to catch one of the gargoyle archers with a spell of slowing, whilst a casual gesture sent a green ray slamming into the chest of a second – in a second the creature cracked and fell into a pile of ashes. My own spell stripped a couple of spells off the titan, and he sank to the floor with a tremendous crash. 

The gargoyles, looking around for a target and seeing Endo as the most imminent threat all turned and fired a hail or missiles at the half orc. He yelled in pain being suddenly pierced by at least five or six thick heavy arrows.

Still invisible, Flynne managed to shoot a series of his own enchanted arrows into the closest gargoyle, and it collapsed into a heap. 

The titan then cast not one, but two spells onto Fez. Looking through my enchanted glasses, I could see the enchantments we had layered onto Fez being reaved away from him. Shrinking in size and losing perhaps a dozen protective spells, he shrank down to his human size and fell to the earth at Kranathos’ feet. Suddenly looking as small as he ever had done, he slashed a couple of times with his scythe, but his blows lacked the power and enchanted might of only seconds before. 

Whilst Janga dropped a pillar of roaring flame over another gargoyle, injuring it grievously, and Flynne managed to slay another. Only three remained, one badly burned and another slowed to a crawl. In the meantime, I placed another spell of invisibility on Endo, who was already casting another spell of his own.

Back in the centre of the stone fortress, the titan hit Fez with yet another countermagic spell, stripping him of the very last of his protective enchantments – the displacement which had managed to make every blow struck to date miss the berserk warrior. Kranathos followed this spell up with a series of blows from his massive morningstar, then on a backswing there was a burst of feathers from one side as Endo’s raven familiar flew in invisibly and was struck by the titan.

The brave bird delivered the spell, however, and Fez swelled once more to the large form of a craggy annis hag, before slashing back at the titan with his new claws. Janga cured him once again, and Endo’s next spell sent lightning arcing from a gargoyle to the titan. 

I dashed back in to cast a further spell of displacement on Fez, as Flynne’s arrows started to slam with pinpoint accuracy into the titan’s back; though many passed through the titan’s own displacement spell. 

Kranathos responded with a blast of fire as he sent four meteors slamming into Fez’s face. I managed to take cover, but Fez and Janga took the full force of the blast and were both horribly hurt.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Janga stripped away the titan’s last protective spell, meaning that Fez was free to claw away at the massive figure. Endo’s next spell sent yet more lightning crackling between gargoyle and the titan. With a tremendous sigh, the titan’s knees trembled and then collapsed, and the massive figure fell to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and a tremendous crash.

Grinning, we turned with a gleam in our eyes on the remaining gargoyles. A barrage of spells, arrows and scythe blows smashed them from the walls in seconds.

.oOo.

Once the titan’s many enchanted items had been swept into a sack, Janga cast a spell which whisked us back to our home plane of existence for a well earned rest.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Thanks for the writeup there Mr Eccles! Rocking stuff!

Hehe - that was one tough fight.

I want to know what kind of sadist thinks a Titan isn't challenging enough for a party of 15-16th level adventurers - so throws in a pack of Advanced Gargoyle Fighters. 

Not to give too much away, but this also turns up to be a warm up for something a whole load uglier. 

Really need smileys for 'Doomed' and 'Bitten off more than we can chew'.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I have to say I am massively impressed with you lot for winning against that monster!


----------



## Supaida

If somebody burns a wish spell on you, and you throw it back in his face? He's gonna feel cheated. And he's gonna want a refund.

Meaning he's gonna want some experience points.

All I'm saying.


----------



## Eccles

Grabbing everything of value, Janga cast a powerful spell to transport us all back to the Prime Material plane, and then teleported us back to the Free Cities. After a period of selling and buying and a night’s rest, we were back on the island, wreathed in storms. Figuring that we would have to locate Darl Zuethos’ group to recover the feather they had taken, we decided that we would find them and then work out how best to ambush them.

“Fez,” I casually remarked as I cast a spell, “I just remembered. There is a gigantic fat woman who wanted to speak to you back in Mage Point – you only have to step through this doorway to see her.”

We all followed him through the portal to Tilagos, at which point we realised something was wrong. Something was very wrong indeed. 

.oOo.

The gaunt figure of Darl Zuethos stood a short distance away from us, his near-skeletal left hand raised as though in command to the rest of his team. A flaming djinn sat on a massive black mount, which breathed thick dark smoke and whose hooves were wreathed in fire. Off to our right was the huge heavy-set figure of a horned devil, whose massive wings unfurled as its tremendous clawed hands twisted angrily around a huge spiked chain easily three times my height in length. 

Finally, Zuethos’ two tiefling followers, each clearly trained in speed and unarmed fighting could be seen hurtling towards us. As they closed, I had just enough time to register that they were both heavily enchanted before they got too close, and everything went silent. Clearly one of the spells they were enchanted with was a silence dweomer. 

Picking their target carefully, each of the two monks drove a powerful blow into Endo’s chest. Fists driving into each side of his lungs and kidneys, the wizard’s half orc face went slack with a breathless and confused expression. 

Gesturing, the efreeti blasted a series of rays of fire at Endo, then threw a fireball which burst in our midst. As we blinked away the pain, we could just see the nightmare the efreeti was riding rise into the air away from us. 

Fez stepped back, and drove his scythe heavily into one of the monks threatening Endo, before the horned devil lumbered forwards, striking Flynne across the side of his face with the massive spiked chain. A brief flash of a strange otherworldly power sparked from the chain to Flynne, and I could see that he was dazed by the blow.

I could see, but not hear, the necromancer casting a spell of great potency and complexity, and held my breath for a second awaiting the hammer to fall – but it didn’t. Janga hurtled up into the sky, tiny wings attached to his boots fluttering madly, and I could see him throwing a powerful dispelling magic down onto one of the two tiefling monks. Looking around through the magical lenses of my _Clair de Lunettes_, I could see some of the auras around the monk disappear, and hastened to follow suit. I called on the levitating powers of my boots and shot up out of the silenced area and flung a dispelling spell of my own down at the second monk. Instantly I could hear the moaning of Flynne and Endo, as well as Fez’ furious angry bellowing beneath me. 

I could also hear the repeated sounds of fists smacking into orc flesh, as the two monks pummelled Endo, and amidst the sound of bones breaking, my comrade collapsed to the floor. 

Wielding a flaming falchion, the efreeti rode down from the sky slashing at Fez as he came, before turning in the saddle and launching another stream of fire down towards the barbarian, wreathing him in fire and making him bellow in pain and rage. 

Turning, Fez took out his anger on the monk he was still near, hacking at it several times with his scythe until it collapsed to the floor by his feet. 

.oOo.

My heart leapt as I saw Flynne groaning and begin to stir, but immediately he was beaten to the point of insensibility by the towering devil. The foot long barbs down the length of the chain had torn terrible gaps in his flesh, whilst the devil’s innate stunning ability had again staggered my comrade; the scaled elf was sagging at the knee, clearly only standing through force of will. 

At a magical exhortation from Darl, the near-dead monk at Fez’ feet started to gasp a deep and ragged breath and I could see the tiefling’s muscles tense in readiness before it leapt back to its feet. I dropped down to join the others, flinging an ineffectual spell at Zuethos as I yelled up to Janga “get us out of here!”

He fell from the sky to join us, casting a spell of planar transport as he did so. In a heartbeat, the storm-filled sky of Tilagos was replaced by the calm blue sky over a meadow some distance from an unfamiliar range of mountains. We lay on the grass, gripping one another tightly as we registered that Endo’s broken body wasn’t moving at all. The wizard was dead once again.

Counting to 5 to allow Zuethos’ spell to pick up on us before we teleported away, Janga and I did what we could to heal the others and prepare for a second ambush. Janga then teleported us away and back to the town of Mage Point – we staggered and fell into the inn, where we knew we would be protected from further scrying magics.

.oOo.

The next day, we teleported to the Free City, where we sold Kranathos’ massive maul and bought two powerful scrolls of resurrection magics, one of which we used immediately to bring Endo back to life. We returned to Mage Point, and rested within one of Endo’s Magnificent Mansion spells. Once there, Janga cast a powerful spell to allow him to ask questions of Fahrlanghan, his deity.

“Was our arrival on the plane of Tilagos disclosed to Darl Zuethos by the female kenku,” he asked. 
*YES*

“Is she in Mage Point?”
*NO*

“Does Zuethos and his group intend to ambush us again?”
*YES*

“Are our quests complete?”
*NO*

“Is the only task yet to complete that of claiming the roc’s feather?”
*YES*

“Could we complete that task by restoring the roc to life?”
*YES*

“Have Zuethos and his team completed their own quests?”
*NO*

“Do they need the belt from us?”
*YES*

“Is Zuethos protected from magical spells?”
*YES*

“Would the monks be affected by enchantment spells?”
*YES*

“Are the group which recently killed Endo within 100 feet of the portal on the Tilagos demi-plane?”
*NO*

“Is the true name of the devil which we recently faced contained within Manzorian’s library?”
*YES*

“Does Zuethos have someone tasked to watch the portal?”
*YES*


We contacted Manzorian’s assistant immediately, but she was either unwilling, or unable to help us, claiming not to know how to get into Manzorian’s library and telling us that he was still off-plane dealing with “an unruly demon lord”. 

Thwarted, we turned again to make plans.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

It's always horrible when you're the ones being ambushed.

But a very neat idea to resurrect the roc rather than fighting the other lot again - lateral thinking, nice one!


----------



## Dantardis

Have realy enjoyed your write ups so far, they remind me of when I ran the AOW campaign.


----------



## Darmanicus

Tallarn said:
			
		

> It's always horrible when you're the ones being ambushed.




Dying wouldn't have been such a pain if I'd been able to do something   

1st round - Monks pummel and stun me, and I suffer the effects of both Scorching Ray and Fireball.

2nd round - DEAD!!!

BAH!


----------



## Eccles

“Is the kenku still on the demiplane?”
*NO*

It was two days later, and we were still casting divination spells with a view to deciding what to do next. They weren’t helping, and several of us (particularly Fez and Flynne) were becoming restless. Flynne had stormed out of the _Mansion_ the day before, yelling in frustration about wanting to do something.

“Is she back on the island on the Prime Material?”
*YES*

“Is she the only one from her group there?”
*NO*

“Are they all there?”
*NO*

“Would they know of our arrival in advance of our getting to the island?”
*POTENTIALLY*

“Is Darl on the Island?”
*YES*

“Do those on the island intend to ambush us?”
*YES*

“Have they set traps for our arrival?”
*YES*

“Is the devil on the island?”
*YES*

“Is the efreeti on the island?”
*YES*

“Are both monks on the island?”
*NO*

“Would they have prior knowledge of our arrival should we teleport to the island through some kind of magic?”
*NO*

“Does Darl’s resistance to magic come from an item he has?”
*NO*

“Is there anybody waiting for us in the corner between the two walls where Evan rested before opening the portal to the demiplane for the first time?” – We had chosen that location as it looked over the portal with some decent cover, though there were many such sites ranged around the entranceway.
*NO*

.oOo.

Running out of patience and questions, we decided that the time was ripe to mount an ambush of our own, although we still didn’t know where Flynne was. Concerned that Zuethos might realise what we were up to, we dashed into Mage Point and recruited the first likely archer we came across to assist us – a crossbow equipped Halfling named Bob. He seemed very confident in his abilities, but explained that he had recently traded almost all of his equipment in for a single awesomely powerful crossbow and a huge collection of bolts for it. He was therefore keen to find work as soon as possible. 

Enlisting Bob, we retired to the _mansion_ to prepare for the fight. A huge series of songs and spells were laid down, layering carefully across one another to make each of us as effective as possible. Confident that we were as ready as we would ever be (as long as Flynne continued to be absent), we stepped out and teleported to a different spot on a wall overlooking the portal. 

Across the gap we could see a wall of smoke from the efreeti’s massive nightmare steed, but nothing else was in front of me. Then I glanced to my left, and my jaw dropped open. Perhaps ten feet away from me, and slowly turning to stare down at the group of impetuous adventurers who had just dropped in on it stood the devil, 14 feet of barbs and horns wrapped in a pair of leathery wings and trailing its colossal spiked chain like some vicious tail. 

Yelping in alarm, I dashed away from it, casting a spell setting up a moving image of myself in the small area of open ground between myself (cloaked in invisibility), and the flaming efreeti. 

Disguised as a wizard, Fez took flight and streaked across the ground towards the efreeti, swinging his scythe heavily across its torso as he arrived. Both it and the cauchemar launched into a counterattack; whilst the flaming smoke-wreathed mount missed, Fez was injured from a single strike from the burning falchion which slipped past all the magical defences we had layered onto him. 

In the centre-ground, a monk dashed around a corner yelling a battlecry before launching a leaping attack, foot-first, onto and then through my image of myself. I forced the image to grin in the monk’s direction and yell “Displacement spell, stupid!”

As Endo started casting his spell ‘_Endo’s Dirge of Deathly Drums_’, I could hear the mystical sound of the phantom drummers he was channelling. Although he was invisible, I could hear as he flung the spell towards the otherwordly attackers. The spell failed, however; no doubt thwarted by their innate resistances to all but the most powerful spells. 

Taking his first chance to show us what he was capable of, Bob dived away from the devil in his turn, slapping a series of bolts into his tiny crossbow and firing three of them in phenomenally quick succession into the efreeti. As they struck, I could see them flaring with fire and crackling with lightning; and each slammed home with a blast of sound.

Janga, however, wasn’t as fast. He looked around and saw all of us either diving away from him or fading from sight, and he was left alone; a single tiny armoured form practically at the feet of the horned devil. He opened his mouth to exclaim something, but got no further than “oh, Bu….” When his voice was drowned out by the rage of the devil. The massive clanking chain flailed around; foot long blades scything around it as it whipped through the air; interspersed by savage bites from the devil’s toothy maw and a slap from its barbed tail. Despite the savagery, Janga was unaffected by the devil’s mystical stunning effect; the gnome staggered away from the vast devil. 

On the other side of the field of combat, I could see Darl Zuethos stepping out from behind a wall. He approached the area where Fez was fighting the efreeti, and healed the beast completely of all the wounds Bob and Fez had inflicted. 

At this point, I flung a bardic spell of sound manipulation towards the efreeti, cauchemar and Zuethos. The cleric managed to shake off the spell, but suddenly the efreeti and his mount paused before a peal of bells sounded out. Every movement that they made, and every time that they opened their mouths, the only noise which could be heard was that of cowbells.

The ringing sound got a great deal louder as the cauchemar-mounted efreeti charged across the end of the island to slash at Endo with his mighty flaming falchion; clearly the creature was able to see through the powerful invisibility spells I have woven over the half-orc mage and myself.

Meanwhile, the monk had clearly decided that he was unable to strike my image, and dashed across to where Bob stood; already threatened by the vast hulking devil which had stalked forwards, the miniscule Halfling was swiftly surrounded by these two foes. 

Endo, meanwhile, was being made to look equally small in front of the tremendously large smoke-breathing cauchemar. He stared up at it, and from a few yards away I could hear his teeth grinding together. Then he began to chant in a deep voice; the syllables ground together like two falling tombstones. He completed his spell with a bellow of vengeance, and his magic manifested as a wreathe of small ghosts, each streaming from where the mage was standing to swarm around the head of the efreeti. They swirled around it, cackling, before dipping their tiny clawed hands into its head. The flaming outsider stiffened, and then fell from the cauchemar amidst a tremendous jangling sound of cowbells. 

To follow up, Endo yelled a word of power, and the monk abruptly went blind.

.oOo.

Bob was quick to capitalise on this, and shot the monk twice before leaping and spinning away from the situation. He was acrobatic enough even to leave the devil standing still. The Halfling dashed away down a narrow gap between two walls where the devil would struggle to follow him.

The vast devil charged instead towards Endo, screaming imprecations as it went before slashing a terrible blow across his side with the huge barbed chain. There was a huge flash of eldritch power which threatened to surround the mage, but was then suppressed by an even greater flash of divine power as Fahrlanghan’s blessing (laid on Endo that morning by Janga) saved him from being dazed.

Darl, meanwhile, cast an awesome spell of divine power, which wracked Fez in tremendous pain. His back twisted in agony, but Zuethos was already moving away; as he did so he invoked a second spell with just a word, and Endo and I immediately became visible as he closed on us.

I responded by dashing out of the area of Zuethos’ spell, and was relieved to see myself disappear once again. Then I pulled a bone wand from my belt and triggered it. A dark ray shot into the side of Zuethos’ head, and he yelled in pain and alarm as some of his most powerful magics were simply pulled from his mind. I grinned to myself and tucked the wand of _enervation_ we had claimed from the true ghoul Moretto back into my belt.

Amidst the ringing of cowbells, the cauchemar then dashed over to slash at Fez, and a crossbow bolt glanced off the Jangahty warrior’s armour from somewhere unseen. 

Endo cast a spell of his own upon Darl Zuethos, and the cleric screamed in pain, clutching at his temples with the grey-skinned _Hand of Vecna_ as Endo’s spell tore away much of his ability to cast spells.

From behind the wall, Bob’s pinpoint-accurate crossbow fire slammed again and again into the monk, and the tiefling collapsed onto the floor, pierced through with enchanted bolts. 

At this point, the demon’s chain-weapon tore into Janga, and the gnome cleric was simply torn limb from limb; massive spikes and barbs gouging his flesh and rending his bone and the grisly mess of a gnome was spattered across the floor to lie dead on the ground.

Darl, meanwhile, took his vengeance. Speaking words of power, he reached out and backhanded Fez across the face with the grisly _Hand of Vecna_. The barbarian was enveloped in dark shadows as the _Hand_ and the spell took effect and tore away much of his life force. 

Focussing, I used my projected image to unleashed a tremendous bellow across the field of battle. The yell washed over Janga’s broken body, blasting through several foes. Blood began to leak from the ears of the kenku who I could suddenly see in the centre of the battlefield, and Zuethos’ nose began to bleed freely. Both of them clutched their hands to their ears as they yelled in pain and agony. 

A massive blast of lightning then shot from Endo’s position, slamming into Zuethos’ stunned form and then ricocheting into the other villains around him. Zuethos’ yell was incoherent in his deafness, and he died there, in the blast of lightning and stench of ozone.

“Surrender or die,” demanded Endo of the horned devil, as Bob’s crossbow bolts slammed into its flank. “No,” he then shouted. “Leave the devil alone – I wish to compact with it!”

Severely wounded, the devil responded by simply vanishing amidst a storm of brimstone smoke.

.oOo.

I ran across the battlefield to Fez, passing him a flask and healing some of his wounds to a point that I could no longer see his lung through one of the slashes. He quaffed the flask’s contents which healed many of the rest of his grievous injuries before slashing the cauchemar down to size.

Endo and I then proceeded to simply cover the area of our combat with spells of _glitterdust_, until the glowing form of the kenku assassin was revealed. The second we could see her, she was transfixed by spells, sonic blasts and crossbow bolts before Fez’ enraged form arrived to slash at her remains with his massive and terrible scythe.

The battle was over, and we had won.


----------



## Dpulse303

c'mon Nik update , quick before tonights sesh as i cant remember what happened....
well thats a lie i just want to read about our exploits ; )


----------



## Eccles

It's not finished, and I just (7.15pm) got home from work. Was supposed to be able to do the rest of it before I came out tonight. Sorry... You'll have to wait!


----------



## Dpulse303

ahh thats ok will be worth the wait


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Eccles said:
			
		

> He completed his spell with a bellow of vengeance, and his magic manifested as a wreathe of small ghosts, each streaming from where the mage was standing to swarm around the head of the efreeti. They swirled around it, cackling, before dipping their tiny clawed hands into its head. The flaming outsider stiffened, and then fell from the cauchemar amidst a tremendous jangling sound of cowbells.




I love that mental image.  Brain eating ghosts and cowbells ftw!

Was definitely Endos week - the dice wanted those spells to kill/maim and ruin everything!


----------



## 3V1L_N3CR0

*ouch*

what spell did Endo use on that Djinn


----------



## Eccles

Was it Finger of Death? I think it was, but it was all of 3 weeks ago now!


----------



## Eccles

Janga was restored to life using the scroll we had bought only two days previously, and the loot was captured from Zuethos and his party. To my considerable consternation, Endo managed to emerge from a brief scrum clutching the severed Hand of Vecna as well as the _Robe of Eyes_ he had pulled off the cleric’s body. 

After a couple of teleport spells and a spree of shopping, we found ourselves back on the island standing in front of the portal. We had managed to find Flynne in the Free City, and he had greeted Bob with a few professional questions about his choice of weapons. Closer scrutiny by the sharp-eyed elf showed signs of make-up, and after a few minutes, we realised that the ‘halfling’ was in fact a goblin, cunningly made up to look like a more ‘acceptable’ race. However in our party consisting of a slow, heavily armoured gnome cleric to the god of travel, a dragon-scaled elf, a 6 foot Halfling, a half-orc necromancer and a single human bard, the goblin was barely even remarkable.

Having triggered the magic of the portal once again, Fez again started to back away from it. I dashed to catch him up, patting him on the shoulder as I arrived.

“Fez,” I remarked. “You dropped your flail a while ago, you realise.”

As the barbarian panicked, I dropped the offending weapon into one of my extradimensional pouches and cast a spell.

“Yeah,” I continued. “It’s just through this portal.”

I followed the barbarian through the dimension door and then straight through the portal to Tilagos beyond. He was still swearing at me for fooling him again as I returned his cold iron flail to him.

.oOo.

The four watchers stood solemnly in a semicircle in front of the portal. Tilagos, however, almost smiled as he congratulated us. “You have done well,” said Tylanthros as he approached. “No one has ever succeeded in all of the Trials before. You have proven yourselves worthy.”

“You have proved nothing!” Sayren-Lei suddenly interrupted, stepping forward and shouldering past his brethren. “Slaughtering beasts and Velsharoon-worshipping dogs! Worse, you allowed the Roc King to perish! The trial asked specifically for his living feather, yet he was nonetheless killed!” The other three watchers stared at their brother in shock. 

“We didn’t kill the dumb bird,” shouted Endo in irritation. “It was the cleric and his band.”

I tried to interject and placate the fey lord, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“You are no heroes and I declare that none of you shall taste the waters of the Fountain of Dreams,” he shouted with spittle flying from his lips. “I contest your doubtful accomplishments, and demand trial by blood! Only if you pathetic mortals can defeat me shall I consider you worthy of the final secrets of the Order of the Storm.”

 “Sayren-Lei has the right,” Tylanthros sighed. “We may not interfere.” Then, bowing, he, Beskawahn and Thadimar retreated some three hundred yards away to watch as Seyren-Lei backed away with his broad-bladed spear waving towards us all. He was a tall figure clad in gossamer-like armour. A cloak apparently fashioned from nettles was wrapped around his shoulders, and a cloud of insects swarmed around him. Over his shoulders poked the four elementally themed banners.

As was so often the case, Flynne was the first to react – he fired an experimental arrow towards Seyren-Lei. As the fey moved to one side, the rustling nettle leaves of his cloak moved almost faster than the eye could follow. The edge of the cloak somehow managed to snatch the arrow out of the air, before twisting and flinging the flame-enchanted missile straight back at my comrade. Distracted as he leapt to one side, Flynne’s other two shots went wide of their target.

Bob’s arrow, however, slammed into Seyren-Lei’s chest with pinpoint accuracy. The many enchantments on his arrows flared into life. Three of the four banners on the fey’s back glowed suddenly, and lightning, fire and ice were all sucked out of the arrow, to flare or crackle up over his shoulders into the banners.

As Seyren-Lei ducked away from Bob’s other arrows, we began to get nervous.

.oOo.

Seyren-Lei gestured, and the ground twisted at his beckoning. A tremendous mass of 6 inch long centipedes spilled out of the ground, from our feet and easily covering ten feet in every direction around us. As we yelled in surprise and pain at the hundreds of tiny bites savaging our ankles and calves, Endo backed away chanting. Once he was 40 feet behind us, he concluded his spell and opened his mouth. A massive spew of acid poured from his mouth and gushing around us all, washing over the creatures and destroying them all – they shrivelled and collapsed around us. 

Working in close concert, I cast a spell of _hastening_, before Janga teleported himself and Fez up close with the fey warrior. Coughing as he swallowed insects, Janga began retching, but Fez grinned as he chewed on the stinging swarm and started hacking. The nettle cloak lashed out to try and snag Fez’s scythe, but the massive blade simply clipped the edge of the cloak off and carved on into the enemy warrior. Three of Fez’s strikes struck home, but the fey seemed to ignore some of the damage.

Deactivating much of the magical powers of his bow, Bob shot at the fey several times, but his arrows seemed to largely glance off or do the tiniest of scratches to the gossamer-clad form. Flynne’s shots similarly failed to do much at all, and Seyren-Lei slashed repeatedly at Fez with the broad-bladed spear, whose blade was wreathed in lightning. Inflicting a deep wound, he snarled a word of power, and Fez abruptly vanished. Looking down at the spot where the barbarian had been standing, I could see a large, angry-looking grey-skinned toad.

Endo was quick to react to this, and cast a spell of his own, gesturing and causing toad-Fez to swell dramatically. He shot upwards until he stood, all claws and leathery flesh of an annis hag, towering over Seyren-Lei. 

Experimentally, I cast a spell of my own to turn Flynne invisible, but judging by Seyren-Lei’s idle glance and sneer, the fey was able to see through the spell. Meanwhile, Janga stumbled away from the swarm of stinging insects, still retching. Fez, however, was happy to act despite the insects. Switching to a flail which had grown with him, he smashed downwards with the cold-iron weapon. Although Seyren-Lei’s wounds had been healing, the swift flail-blows left huge bloody wounds on the fey’s lithe body.

Again, Bob’s arrows mostly left tiny rapidly-healed scratches in the fey’s body, though one of them managed to slam into a pressure point causing considerable pain, but the fey warrior was still able to continue. He snarled a spell at Fez, but the savage shook off the magic with a  snarl of his own, before gritting his filed teeth at the pain of another slash from the crackling longspear. 

Whilst Endo cast a spell, announcing “I wish that my next spell succeed”, I tried unsuccessfully to dispel any magics on the fey, and Flynne moved closer before firing a single cold iron arrow, which struck deeply into Seyren-Lei’s flesh. Meanwhile, whilst simultaneously being healed of all his injuries by Janga, Fez slammed down again and again with his cold iron flail.

Speckled with Bob’s tiny arrows, Seyren-Lei cast two spells in rapid succession, healing himself of a good deal of the damage and then vanishing from sight. From behind me, however, I could hear Endo yell “he’s still there”. Confident that some power of the magical _Robe of Eyes_ that Endo was wearing would let him see through the invisibility, I dropped a mass of glowing magical dust over the area the fey had been standing in. This was followed by Endo’s spell – “Endo’s Dirge of Deathly Drums”. 

Wreathed in glittering dust, we could see Seyren-Lei’s glowing form stamping his feet in time with the ghostly drummer Endo had summoned. As he was distracted, he was impaled by arrows from Bob and Flynne, and hammered to the floor by Fez. 

As he fell to the ground, the other three fey figures swooped in. With a series of gestures, Seyren-Lei was restored to full health and life, and he turned and bowed to us.

“I must concede,” he announced grudgingly. “You have the power, and you have the right to the Fountain of Knowledge. More, I grant you the Watcher’s Gift.” Saying this, he turned and gathered the four banners from his shoulders, plucked the large fluttering pennants from them, and handed them to us. Assessing their power, we were swift to pass them amongst ourselves as Tylanthros gestured grandly.

“You have earned the right to return the lore of the Order of the Storm to the world,” he told us. “The Age of Worms is upon us, and what the powers of old began so long ago now falls to you to complete. Drink deep and remember. Dream the dreams of the ages.”

We turned where he was pointing, and could see the air shimmer as a vast stone fountain materialized before us. Our minds were assaulted by a rush of memories both alien and familiar, and an almost overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. As we each drank deeply from the fountain’s ice-cold waters, the memories intensified, and the world around us went dark as we floated; timeless and adrift, through endless darkness.

.oOo.

Light was restored to us amidst a rush of noise. Yelling, screaming and the clash of sword on shield. We were standing on a flat rocky outcropping on the edge of a wind blown bluff – I could recognize it as Rift Canyon, but somehow less barren than I might have expected. The trees were being smashed by powerful blasts of magic, however, and titanic legions were trampling the undergrowth into the mud. 

Away on the horizon, we could see cities lying in ruin, smoke still rising from crumbling spires as humanoid armies struggled vainly against innumerable legions of the undead which swarmed over the lip of the chasm near our feet. Amongst the tens of thousands of worm-infested corpses writhed titanic centipedes of bone; 40 foot tall scorpions clad in jet black chitinous armour. Other vast undead monstrosities writhed amidst the armies, some still spawning other forms of undead, whilst others crackled with the powers of spells which played over them. 

Overhead, a colossal skeletal dragon, scraps of red flesh still hanging from its bones, flew. It gyred and twisted on the air, alternately yelling out massively powerful spells and commands to the troops below. 

“You have arrived,” called out a voice, and we spun to see four familiar looking humans looking at us. A younger version of Tylanthros stood before his colleagues, clad in homespun brown robes and clutching a staff. Behind him was a crate. 

Showing no signs of recognition, Tylanthros continued.

“The heroes of prophecy, your timing has been perfect. We have been successful in our task; Dragotha’s phylactery is ours. However, his minions pursue us and we must hide it. You must hold off the spawn which claw at the rock beneath us.”

As he spoke, a female in a glittering long silver dress stepped forwards. Somehow, despite our having fallen back in time many centuries, Lashonna strode forwards. “I shall engage Dragotha and his children myself, but I cannot defend against his Swords. They come too, scrambling up to our location even now, along with…something else. Something most unnatural…an abomination. You must hold them off, for all is lost if you fail…” With that final pronouncement, she spread wide her arms and transformed into a magnificent silver dragon. With a single, tremendous beat of her wings, she launched into the air and soared off towards the distant dracolich. As she winged away, Tylanthros spoke again. “We go now, to hide the phylactery within its cradle in Kongen-Thulnir. Save us from the Swords of Kyuss, or the Age of Worms shall doom us all!”

As the undead swarmed over the edge of the small rock plateau, we turned to face them. Ten of the worm-pocked Spawns of Kyuss lurched towards us, under a withering hail of fire from Flynne and Bob. Endo then cast a powerful spell which caused all but three of the undead to halt in their tracks, unable to close on us any further. 

As I unleashed a massive fireball on most of them from a staff I had been carrying for just such a purpose, they reacted by clanging their swords together, over and over. The sounds were terrible, but as they struck their blades together I could see dark surges of energy wash out from where they were focussing the powers. In an instant, all 10 of the undead were fully healed, and Endo was twisting in the air under a barrage of the deadly attacks. Each of us writhed and twisted trying to escape the appalling deadly energies. 

Janga responded in his own way with a massive curative spell, which healed us of much of our wounds whilst opening lesions in the undead which were pawing the ground in an effort to get closer to us. At that point, Flynne invoked the powers of his banner and called a pillar of flame down on their back ranks wounding many and destroying two, and my second tremendous explosion tore four more of them limb from limb.

Invoking the powers of his own banner (claimed so recently from Seyren-Lei), Fez was clad in skin which was as hard as stone, and he stepped forwards swinging his flail, which was itself covered in a silvery substance he had pulled from his pack. He lashed around himself, crushing the skulls of two of the fire-blasted skeletons. He then smashed yet another as it dashed towards Flynne. The two survivors struck at Janga who had flown round nearer them. 

“There’s something big coming,” yelled Endo in alarm as he looked down, and at the same time Janga’s second powerful spell both cured us and damaged the couple of remaining Kyuss-spawn which were still threatening him. As I sang, Bob and Flynne fired arrow after arrow into the surviving undead, before Fez’s alchemically silvered flail carved through them both, his bunched muscles shattering both of their skulls.

As these two collapsed, there was just enough time for Endo to quaff a potion and fade from sight before yet more of the undead lurched onto the top of the plateau, and as they clambered to the top they were followed by a truly gargantuan undead – wormlike but easily 30 feet in length, the creatures’ massive ribs curved around a tight grey leathery sac in its abdomen. Within this, I could see the movement of other shapes, pushing against the sac as though trying to worm their way out.

The massive creature’s head was that of an awesomely large dragon which had been stripped of all flesh. It reared above the plateau before crashing to earth with a roar which shook the blood. Rotten spittle and scraps of tattered flesh pelted me as I staggered back from the creature, aghast.

The creature opened its massive jaws and I could barely move for fear of what was about to happen; then a series of tiny arrows sparked off its skeletal frame. The massive beast roared and twisted, snapping at Bob with scythe-like teeth which clamped down on his leg. The creature’s magical powers caused the goblin archer’s leg to stiffen, as the bones fused partly together. 

The little archer yelled in pain, as the massive monster’s ribcage cracked open. The leathery sac writhed as a set of long claws began to tear its way free from within. Amidst a shower of filthy and wretched fluids, three huge forms collapsed to the floor around the skeletal monstrosity. Each of them twitched and unfolded, and the already crowded mesa-top was filled to bursting point with three huge skeletal dragons. As they shook themselves free of their unnatural fluids, two of the Kyuss-spawn were shoved off the top of the rocks. They fell silently to shatter into dozens of wet pieces amidst the battle below. 

I dashed away from the monstrosity, blasting the mass of foes behind me with another shot from the dwindling resources of my staff of fireballs. I was alarmed to see the waves of fire simply wash over the three skeletal dragons. Fez was swift to capitalise on the fire-damaged skeletal warriors by laying about himself with the flail; within a trice, two more were smashed and a third seriously damaged. 

Endo flew back off the rock, being careful to stay below the level of the aerial fight between Dragotha and Lashonna above us. He started to chant the words of a powerful summoning spell as he went, and then with the dreadful sounds of clanging swords, some of the Kyuss spawn sent reaving blasts of negative energy, which reinforced the other undead on the mesa whilst causing terrible damage to us once more. 

Calling on his most powerful restorative magics, Janga cured Bob of all his many ailments, and the diminutive goblin archer then dashed around the edge of the mesa, using the power of the cloak to let him run along the rock walls, firing up and across at one of the skeletal spawn. His arrows were followed by Flynne’s, and the blasts of undead and evil-slaying magics from his powerful bow slew the one injured by Bob and damaged another. 

Suddenly the huge monstrosity slithered, scratching at the rock to bite at Fez; the huge teeth slammed over his shoulder, and with a rattle it sucked at his marrow. I could see his face turn grey with the terrible damage, and his shoulder seemed suddenly incredibly stiff and hard to move. 

The creature (which Endo later told me was a ‘Boneyard of Kyuss’) had by this point fully birthed the three skeletal dragons, which slithered messily across the rocks to chew and slash at Janga and Fez.

Almost all the resources of the powerful staff of fireballs were spent as I triggered it once again to immolate four more of the spawn shattered under the power of the blast. Fez hacked down one of the few last spawn standing, before slamming his flail again and again into the vast undead which was the Boneyard of Kyuss. Chips and flakes of bone flew from the 10 foot wide dragon’s head on the creature’s body, which was followed by a lancing green ray from Endo. The Boneyard shook off the worst of this spell of disintegration, but it still drilled a deep furrow across the beast’s ribcage. 

As Janga healed himself, Bob and Flynne fired up at the monstrosity, ignoring the ‘lesser’ undead dragons around us. I could see Flynne practically screaming in frustration as he fired a powerful _arrow of slaying_ up at the Boneyard, which had no more effect than cracking off a rib.

Rearing in pain, the beast slammed down once again, but came up empty as Fez deflected the vast teeth with his hovering rock-shield, as Bob also escaped largely unscathed from the unbridled savagery of one of the undead dragons which slashed, clawed and slammed down towards him.

As Endo summoned an enormous earth elemental to join in the melee, I blasted it once more with another tremendous gout of fire, feeling the staff to be almost entirely empty. The summoned elemental raised both hands over its head, and crashed them down atop the draconic skull of the Boneyard, which shattered into a dozen pieces under the titanic strength of the elemental and the entire beast collapsed to the floor.

As we turned to deal with the last spawn and the three dragons, I could hear a shriek from above. Looking up, I saw Dragotha’s rotting teeth slam closed on the draconic true form of Lashonna. She wailed and fell, thousands of feet from the sky above deep into the chasm. I did not hear her touch the ground. 

At the same time, gazing around, there was no sign of the four druids and their heavy burden. We had done it. They had escaped to hide the phylactery, and the knowledge of its whereabouts, so that we might find it again in many hundreds of years time. 

With a  gut-wrenching feeling, we fell forwards through time once more, to stand on the island of Tilagos. However this time the island had been changed. The portal was ruined, showing the signs of a millennium or more’s aging. The storms ringing the island had ceased abruptly, and the island itself was barren and ruined. We turned to Janga, and the little cleric cast a spell which would take us to the Free City, where we could celebrate, and from there, back to Mage Point where we could discuss matters further with Manzorian.


----------



## Eccles

There we go. Just one more set of notes to type up and I'll be back up to date again! (Sigh). 

Amusing session next, where I (for once) remember to cast my Glibness spell and suddenly remember what you can do with a +58 bluff modifier...


----------



## Dpulse303

worth the wait !
cheers Eccles good write up


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Another titanic battle!

I'm loving the action in this story - so much fun to read about!


----------



## Abciximab

> “Fez,” I remarked. “You dropped your flail a while ago, you realise.”
> 
> As the barbarian panicked, I dropped the offending weapon into one of my extradimensional pouches and cast a spell.
> 
> “Yeah,” I continued. “It’s just through this portal.”
> 
> I followed the barbarian through the dimension door and then straight through the portal to Tilagos beyond. He was still swearing at me for fooling him again as I returned his cold iron flail to him.




Everytime you do something like this to poor Fez, I have flashback to my teenage years when I used to watch the A-Team. Mr T's character hated to fly so they were always tricking him (by drugging him usually) to get him on the plane. 

Great story.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Thanks for the writeup Nik - came out well as usual!

And there we were hoping for a nice mystic vision and drinking some knowledge. Not anticipating a crazy fight to the death against legions of horrors.

Some mechanical bits:

That boneyard is another to add to the long list of overly terrifying things we've met lately. IIRC, you had to make a relatively high fort save or take 2D4 Str, Dex and Con damage when it hit you.   

And the Kyuss skeletons were throwing 14D6 negative energy explosions around...



Abciximab - that's exactly what we thought as well!

The penalties were really racking up on Endos bluff - Fez's +0 sense motive check was closing in on the +58 bluff score. 


And from earlier - Endo did kill the Efreeti with a _Finger of Death_ - which rocked.


----------



## Darmanicus

3V1L_N3CR0 said:
			
		

> what spell did Endo use on that Djinn




Yeah I FoD'd that SoaB


----------



## 3V1L_N3CR0

*nice*

"Phear the Finger" lol


----------



## Eccles

After a few days spent in the Free City, we teleported back to Mage Point, where we learned that Manzorian was returned from his extraplanar sojourn – we immediately left a note with one of his secretaries asking if we might meet with him once again.

Two days later, we were ensconced in his richly appointed study once again. We began by asking if would mind looking after the _Hand of Vecna_. He indicated that he had a suitably secure vault in which he could place the limb, and we were more than happy to pass off the dangerous arm to him before we started to explain what else we’d been up to.

I took the lead in this discussion, telling the story to the best of my ability, and writhing the tale in with a sequence of illusions. As my tale went on, the burning cities and battlefield could be see out of the windows of his study, whilst many of the Spawn of Kyuss began to lurch their way through the walls of the room. I gestured, and the room faded away to be replaced with a replica of ourselves back on the mesa-top, where we could be seen to speak to the druids and then, wincing, I replayed the terrible fight with the Boneyard of Kyuss. 

When the illusion was over, Manzorian sat back and clicked his fingers. Immediately a stack of scrolls and books materialised on one corner of his desk. 

“I have noticed,” he announced, “that since you returned, there has been a change in the world at large. Somehow, despite being untouched within my library, all of these books have been … altered. Whole texts have been added, sometimes stretching to several pages which I simply know were not there previously. 

“The battle which you described is detailed in this scroll particularly,” he continued as he unrolled a large piece of parchment. “And this etching replicated on the scroll speaks of the very battle of which you speak – the battle of Rift Canyon.”

As he unrolled the scroll, he paused and squinted at the image. He took a few moments to snatch a bejewelled magnifying glass from the desk and look closely before he straightened, and spun the scroll on the desk so that we could look at it. 

“I don’t believe it,” he exclaimed. “It’s you!” 

We looked down at where he was pointing, and could see tiny figures atop a mesa, involved in a desperate fight with a huge dragon-skulled skeletal worm. Indisputably, each of us was replicated in miniature on the flaking etching we were staring at, which Manzorian swore was more than one thousand years old. 

Unfurling a map, Manzorian swept his hand across the realms to the north. “Kongen-Thulnir lies within the Rift Canyon, some 150 miles to the north of here. The city’s exact location is not known, as it is the ancestral homeland of a race of giants. Visitors are… shall we say simply that they are not welcome? 

“One of the recently updated texts in my library has references to the Rift Canyon, and seems to suggest the Order of the Storms was involved in its construction and then entrusted to the giants; perhaps to guard something?”

He left this question hanging in the air as we looked at the map. It was clear that the Rift Canyon was almost 180 miles in length, stretching through the Bandit Canyons and was known as a sanctuary for beasts and thugs of all kinds. Picking on a likely looking village which lay on a river some 50 miles from the canyon, we turned to Janga as he started his prayer of teleportation.

.oOo.

Within the tiny hamlet of ‘Gullet’, we encountered an elderly fishwife, whose husband had disappeared when he had gone ‘investigating the giant town 20 miles to the south’. Whilst she was distracted by the handful of gold Flynne passed her in thanks, she barely noticed as Janga invoked Fahrlanghan’s name once more and we flew from the settlement in the form of a few clouds on the wind. As we hurtled away, we could hear the old woman proclaiming herself ‘Queen of Gullet’, as she wove herself a tiara of old fish bones.

.oOo.

Following trails found by Fez, we swept low to the edge of the crevasse, where the wind made a dreadful hollow moaning sound as it rushed across the lip of the canyon. 100 feet down over the edge of the sheer drop stood a ruined city of stone, which was made up from hundreds of multi-levelled buildings housed in caverns and protruding from the cliff walls. Massive spires rose from the depths of the canyon, and atop two of this hulking masses of stone were castle-like structures.

The whole colossal city was alight. Smoke rose from the spires, and buildings were damaged, clearly by the dozens of dragons which swooped and breathed fire, acid and ice down onto the stone roofs and defenders below. 

The defenders were giants, sparsely spaced out and barely equal to the task of fending off the dragons, which they did with thrown boulders and gigantic war machines to match acidic breath, and reaching up with tremendous spears to try and bring down the flying beasts above them. 

As we watched, a massive dragon swooped in, but one of its wings was caught on a thin steel chain, which had been painted to match the stone of the cavern’s wall. The bones of the dragon’s wing crumpled around the taught chain, and the creature tumbled into the deep rift below. 

At the same instant, Endo began to look worried and started chanting under his breath. “There’s a green above us. A big one. Invisible.” 

Straining our ears to hear what spells the dragon might be casting, we started to cast our own, Janga Endo and I all working together to improve us all as quickly as possible. As I was just in the process of turning Flynne invisible, the many eyeballs of Endo’s _Robe of Eyes_ all abruptly turned upwards to point at the same target, and he flung a spell at the dragon only he could see. 

His spell took effect, reaving away several magical effects on the dragon above – immediately the huge form of the green dragon materialised in the sky a hundred feet over our heads. An instant later, a fiery arrow appeared in its flank from Flynne’s arrow – he was clearly flying in the sky alongside the creature. The long sinuous neck turned to look to one side and inhaled before blasting a tremendous gout of acid through the sky. I could see the acid spattering around where Flynne was clearly flying.

The dragon then swooped through the sky, and when its massive jaws snapped shut a cry of pain and a gout of fresh blood dropped from the air.

A few feet above the dragon, a slash appeared in the air, and Janga walked through the dimensional portal, taking Fez with him. Both were flying – the gnome through the effects of his winged boots, and Fez under the powers of the potion he had just consumed. 

My spell failed to take effect, and the dragon’s last few spells stayed in effect. Endo, clutching his _Rod of Quickening_, called up a jet black flaming steed, which he rode up into the sky towards the dragon. Once on a level with the dragon, he cast a second spell; launching a powerful black ray at the dragon. When the spell connected, the vast dragon sagged in the air as its muscles withered and faded under Endo’s assault.

I could not see Flynne flying away, but was certain that he had done so as his arrows slammed once more into the dragon’s flank, and whilst the dragon failed to remove the enfeebling effect of Endo’s spell with a word of power of its own, it then flailed up towards Fez; biting and slapping with wings and claws, the weakened dragon’s blows largely bounced off his shield drawing little blood on the tough barbarian.

Janga cast a protective spell upon himself, as Fez whacked downwards with his scythe again and again. In the same time, my next spell failed as well, as did Endo’s, before Flynne (appearing as he did so), flew straight in under the creature, stabbing a new dark-bladed shortsword up into the dragon’s belly. 

The dragon’s sides flexed as it breathed a hurricane force winds and acid over Fez and Janga, before lashing out a massively accurate series of blows against Janga. Heavily wounded, the cleric backed away from the dragon once more and then cast a powerful spell to heal himself of all his injuries. 

Screaming, Fez attacked madly – the scythe slashed and crashed into the dragon, biting deeply into the beast’s neck over and over. The dragon crashed to the floor, and we hacked a claw off one of its claws before dashing away down a path. 

“Wait up,” came a call from behind us. 

.oOo.

Only as tall as our waists, the waddling form of the Ominous Fabler approached us. We stared at one another in disbelief as we looked at him getting closer and closer. Fez bowed at the tiny man, and he smiled wryly.

“You don’t have to do that any more,” he told the barbarian. “I thought that I’d come and help you.”

As we stared at him, Endo began to look uncomfortable; I therefore began to stare more closely at the figure, and whilst my _clair de lunettes_ showed only a series of protective spells, I could sense a powerful necromantic magic emanating from the figure – too powerful to be any mere spell. Acting on a hunch, I pulled a flask from one of my magical bags, and proffered it to him.

“We’re going to fly down to the giants,” I told him. You’ll need to drink this if you’re coming with us. It’s a flight potion.”

As he smiled and quaffed the thick paste down, I grinned broadly. 

“Actually,” I continued, “It’s something I like to call wormbane paste. Completely harmless to any normal person, but…” I paused as the Fabler collapsed to his knees in agony, clutching at his throat. “If you’ve got any worms inside you, it’s probably quite fatal.”

.oOo.

“I worked for Ilthane,” he croaked out. “And I was caught by Dragotha. He sent me to spy on Zeech. I was a spy on him although he was already one of Dragotha’s servants. I got the distinct impression that Zeech had his own relationship with Dragotha, and I have now fled there, and have come to join you.”

“What?” We looked at one another, aghast. “Why on earth should we let you join us?”

“I can help you. I am a chronicler, and teller of tales. I can record your adventures…”

I cut him off, practically grinding my teeth together in irritation. “Got one. Don’t need another one.”

“Well then I can bring knowledge. I don’t know much, but the stone giants have gone from the city beneath us. Now, there are three factions, and they are fighting; the fight is still going now that the dragons have arrived. One of the factions has a king – but be is said to be on his deathbed.”

“I like him,” said Fez. “Can we keep him?”

Frowning at the barbarian, I shushed him whilst reaching for the flask of wormbane paste. Flynne held my wrist. 

“Hold on,” he interrupted. “Let’s talk about this a minute.”

There then started a long discussion between us.

“How can we trust him?”
“He’s funny.”
“You only think he’s funny because you’re taller than he is now.”
“But he can do everything you can…”
“So what? You don’t need me now? You’d rather have the undead midget who admits he works for Dragotha?”
“Worked. He only worked for him.”
“Yeah? You believe a word he says?”
“So you mean he might not’ve worked for Dragotha?”
“Aaargh! No, that’s not what I meant at all, and you know it!”
“So you should let him free and let him join you.”

We paused, and looked down at the tiny man who had worked his way into our huddle. To my view, his eyeballs were two long twisting worms writhing between the eyeslits of a helmet disguised by an illusion.

“Who invited you to this discussion?”

“Well, you were deciding whether to kill me or not, I figured I should at least give you the benefits of my expert opinion.”

“Let me guess,” I responded. “Your expert opinion is that we should let you live?”

“Of course.”

Over his diminutive head, I could see my comrades grinning.

“Look, stand over there, and let us talk. I don’t trust you, and I don’t want you involved in this talk.”

“Fair enough. I still think you should let me live, though.”

Seeing him safely away from us, the conversation continued, until a decision was reached. As one, we all turned on the tiny form of the Ominous Fabler with weapons drawn.

“Bugger,” he said – and then vanished.

.oOo.

We dashed down the pathway which led down into the canyon, and found ourselves facing massive bronzed wooden gates, to one side of which stood a colossal tower, fully 60 feet in height. Near the 20 foot tall door lay the corpse of a giant – charred and burned by fire and acid almost beyond all recognition. 

“Ahoy the castle!”

Within moments, the door to the tower flew open, and within stood a towering giant; easily 17 feet in height it had a tremendous club in one hand, and bounced a boulder easily in his left hand. 

“Go away,” he boomed down to us. 

“But we’re dragon slayers, here to assist you and raise the siege!”

As we spoke, in the far distance a dragon swooped low over a stone bridge; fire and flames wreathed a giant below before the massive red claws gripped the giant by the shoulders and threw him, tumbling and burning into the rift canyon below. 

“Urr – how long have the dragons been here?” I was carefully levitating upwards as I spoke to close on the giant’s face. 

“2 days,” he boomed into my face. “It is as though they are looking for something.”

“We have travelled long,” I told him before launching into the tale of our adventures to reach the Canyon. When I had concluded, I wove all my knowledge into a powerful _suggestion_. “And thus, you should *let us in*.”

I could sense the power in my words, but also I could sense it as they flew straight into the teeth of an older, and much more powerful magic. My words flew apart in the face of the _geas_, woven by phenomenally powerful beings millennia ago.

I looked back to explain to my comrades, and could see that they were already looking back in consternation at an incoming flight of 5 dragons; four smaller black dragons flying wingtip to wingtip with a somewhat larger green. 

Panicking, I turned back to the towering hill giant.

“We’re all giants – we were changed from our true forms by a most powerful evil sorcerer – now for all that is holy and true, let us in!”

“Why you not say this earlier,” asked the giant looking suddenly confused as he stepped out of the doorway to let us all into the tower. 

.oOo.

As we slammed the door shut and looked around, we saw an even dozen giants clustered in the chamber. It was obvious by the dirt and the stench that they had been there for several days. The giant who had let us in shuffled his feet in embarrassment and explained, “There were 30 of us, and we tried to fight the dragons, we only 12 of us now,” he grunted.

Flynne started to fire arrows through the cracks around the door as the whole tower shuddered – the dragons were clearly bathing the whole of the tower with acid.

As I turned to yell at the giants and encourage them to rise up against their attackers, and Endo cast a spell (“I wish that my next spell strike true and bite hard”), we caught flickering sight of the dragons through the tower’s arrow slits. They formed a long line as they circled across the chasm before plummeting down like a series of arrows at the tower. 

Boom! Boom! Boom! – cracks appeared as the first dragons slammed home. 

BOOM! Stones began to fall from the roof before

*BOOM!* the last and heaviest of the dragons slammed into the acid-weakened tower, and the entire massive building collapsed down upon us. I leapt into the lee of a giant, whose heavy body shielded me from the falling rubble, and then as it rose I cast a spell of _hastening_ to imbue us all with speed and encouragement.

Standing out of the rubble, Endo’s cadaverous form was caked in dust and his hand crackled with eldritch power. Briefly I could see through the skin of his hand to the skeletal fingers beneath as he launched a terrible ray straight at the larger green dragon, but the spell sputtered and failed on its protective scales. 

Flynne followed up by peppering a smaller beast with arrows, and its wings collapsed back on it as it dropped into the canyon.

Quaffing a potion, Fez hurtled up into the air, and caught it under the wings. His muscles strained as he trapped the wing fast with the staff of his scythe. Standing on the beast’s back he yelled in excitement as he rode the falling dragon into the ground some 50 feet from the shattered tower.

Like vengeful dust-wreathed demons, the 12 wounded giants rose from the rubble. Each of them was enthused, and vengeful lights burned in their eyes. As one, they dashed towards the fallen dragon, and 12 massive wooden clubs rose and fell repeatedly. The dragon’s bones were crushed and its entrails spilled instantly across the plateau.

Janga’s spell of healing cured much of the damage the giants and we had taken from the collapse of the tower, and then the giants scattered as the surviving dragons breathed; they swooped down on Fez and sprayed caustic acid down on him. The rock he was standing on dissolved under the acids, but Fez stood unmoved as the brown banner draped over his shoulders glowed, nullifying practically all of the lethal liquids.

The dragons swooped lower still, snapping at him with barbed teeth, but their mouths closed only on empty air.

As they took to the air once more, Endo gestured, and lightning arced from black to green, and Flynne’s arrows began to slam home into the green dragon. Fex lept into the sky once again, and his scythe slashed across the green’s belly sending a spray of blood into the air as it cut through the thick scales. 

“Fall,” yelled Janga, “in the name of Fahrlanghan!”

Both of the black dragons simply dropped out of the air, to be immediately leapt upon by vengeful giants. Almost immediately, one of them was reduced to a thick paste under the assault of the heavy clubs. The other snarled out a spell, and disappeared within a 50 foot wide globe of darkness.

Overhead, as the green’s frenzied attack caused barely any damage to Fez, whilst I concentrated and willed away the globe of darkness. Endo’s spell sent hundreds of siny wailing spirits towards the green dragon. They faded into its flesh, which somehow shrivelled and dried up under the assault which drained it of blood and moisture. Terribly wounded, the dragon wailed in fear, and Flynne silenced it forever with a rapid series of arrows. 

As the green fell from the sky, the last black was again utterly slaughtered by the angry giants.


----------



## Eccles

Wow. Would you believe I started typing that on monday? Made it. And the next week's should be easier. If only because I spent the tail end of it dead, so I don't think I have to write things up when I wasn't alive to see 'em!


----------



## The_Warlock

Eccles said:
			
		

> Standing out of the rubble, Endo’s *caFlynnerous* form...




Global Replace is pain in the butt sometimes, ain't it?

Though, I must admit, I'm curious what sort of elven/orcish undead half-breed produces a caflynnerous corpse...chuckle

Great fight, by the by, and that was an Epic bluff check..


----------



## Eccles

The_One_Warlock said:
			
		

> Global Replace is pain in the butt sometimes, ain't it?
> 
> Though, I must admit, I'm curious what sort of elven/orcish undead half-breed produces a caflynnerous corpse...chuckle
> 
> Great fight, by the by, and that was an Epic bluff check..




Thanks... Duly repaired! I think it was a 76 rolled. Which just about cracked the hill giant's -1 sense motive score...

Oh, and Morrus? I sought clarification on Wormbane Paste, here.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Eccles said:
			
		

> Wow. Would you believe I started typing that on monday? Made it. And the next week's should be easier. If only because I spent the tail end of it dead, so I don't think I have to write things up when I wasn't alive to see 'em!




Uh oh. That can't be good - and it does make me wonder if anyone else dies, too...

Fantastic write up, though!


----------



## Dpulse303

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Uh oh. That can't be good - and it does make me wonder if anyone else dies, too...
> 
> 
> hehehe ....you wonder?
> 
> I loved the whole encounter with the ominous fabler and Eccles write up had me in stitches when i read it!!
> 
> The giants were a real pain in the A but also usefull when it came to making
> black dragon foi gras
> 
> What an encounter!!
> cant wait for the next session , last one before christmass !!
> 
> Eccles are you going to write up the next bit or use being dead as an excuse not to ? technically there is only one logical choice for doing a write up  ...but tbh do you think he is capable??
> 
> Merry Christmass to those that celebrate it!!!


----------



## Eccles

I'll get there. Just been behind a lot lately. Might have to post-date the game session again, and it annoys me when I do that...


----------



## Eccles

The dozen giants gathered around us, slapping one another on the back and kicking over the dismembered chunks of dragon with gleeful curiosity. Bending down towards us, the one who had let us into the now-demolished tower muttered deafeningly into our ears.

“You have our thanks, tiny giants. You wish to see king?”

“I thought you said that the king was dead,” I asked whilst looking at my comrades in confusion.

“Nah,” said the hill giant whilst shaking his head. “Nearly dead, if that helps. Bagg now in charge. We stay here and rebuild tower, leader is down there in palace.” He gestured down the slope at a large building on one of the spires perhaps a mile away before continuing. “You be careful down there – dragons. Stay away from Tiamakh and Nulshaddha tribes; they in citadel hiding from dragons.”

Thanking the giant, we headed into Kongen-Thulnir. The city itself was practically in ruins. Buildings stacked hundreds of feet high with giants and a bugbear slave-race both rebuilding the ruined defences and defending themselves from the dragons above. 

As we picked our way invisibly through the smashed city, we saw to our right a gigantic ladder leading downwards into the canyon – each of the rungs of the ladder easily as large as I was tall. Beyond that lay a colossal rope bridge which led out to another of the spires, which was littered with the ruins of ballista and catapult emplacements, some of which still smoked with heat or steamed with terrible other draconic breath weapons. 

As we continued onwards, the tremendous ledge on which the city was placed narrowed considerably as it rounded a corner in the cliff wall. Under an overhang stood a single ballista which was still intact. 

“Invisible Dragon!”

It was Endo, still mounted on the fiery phantom steed he had summoned earlier he wheeled the mount about and began to move away from the rest of us. I had no sooner registered what he was doing than a flash of talons and teeth blinked in and out of sight, and the powerfully invisible dragon crashed down onto Endo.

The brief glimpses I had of it were of a massive brown-grey beast covered from head to tail in spurs of bone. As it flashed in and out of sight, I could see it cast a spell at great speed and a lance of black energies bathed Fez’s annis-hag form, and he slumped as much of his strength was drained from him. 

As we were all invisible, I couldn’t really see what Janga was doing, but from the sounds he was making he was casting a spell designed to strip the dragon’s protections away – it had no appreciable effect whatsoever.

I then heard Endo fling a blindness spell at the dragon. With this he appeared to my eyes, but then called up a _dimension door_ to transport him away from the dragon as its toothy maw turned towards him. 

Fez quaffed something which made him look considerably stronger once more, and then moved to one side. I tried to help with a dispelling enchantment of my own, but the beast remained invisible, even if my magic-detecting glasses showed that a small number of the dragon’s many tremendously powerful protective wards had fallen. 

Whilst none of us could see the dragon, we could see Flynne as he materialised firing his bow repeatedly. Arrows could be seen to strike the dragon, raising sparks on its armour plates and ricocheting off in wild directions. The dragon, meanwhile, had moved towards Janga, and in a series of dreadful blows we could see the dragon appearing. One instant we could see it at the very moment that its awful teeth closed across his armour, and then it vanished again to show Janga standing gasping after some terrible power had taken effect, and we could see the massive series of rents and tears in his armour.

Then the dragon was obscuring our view once more as its wings slammed home, crashing into the gnome’s helmet and leaving him dazed and bleeding from the mouth. The huge dragon disappeared once again, and reappeared as its tail crashed into Janga’s knees from behind. Then it was gone as Janga’s armoured form crashed to the floor.

First one, then a second huge set of scythe-like bony claws drove home into the gnome’s chest and stomach, sending showers of blood into the air and forcing a flow of dark blood up from the tiny cleric’s mouth.

With an invisible pull, the dragon was briefly visible only in the shower of blood and gore as it tore Janga into two pieces. The blood faded from sight as the dragon’s invisibility spell took effect once more, and it was too late for Janga – he was beyond any of our abilities to heal, lying on the floor in two pieces. 

I did not understand what spells Endo cast then, but it was clear from his oaths that they had failed, and then Fez charged towards the invisible dragon whilst screaming – but his scythe swing went wild. 

Joining him, I swallowed deeply as I ran in singing a spell. I managed to slap the flank of the gigantic beast, and could hear the dragon’s footsteps change; it began to shuffle and stomp along with the music I had managed to plant in its mind. 

As Endo had dashed to Flynne’s side, I then grabbed what remained of Janga’s body and cast a dimension travel spell of my own to join them, as Fez slashed and Flynne fired at the beast; much of the steel of their weapons glancing off the titanic plates on the creature. One of Fez’s swings, however, drove home in a titanic upwards swing, which would have utterly disembowelled a lesser creature. 

With the realisation that we were not going to be able to drag the raging Fez from the creature, I cast yet another dispelling magic upon the dragon, and it finally lost its invisibility protection.

With a sudden sinking feeling, 9 identically wounded dragons appeared before us, snarling and twisting in the air as it lashed out savagely towards us. Flynne’s arrows began systematically whittling away the images with pinpoint accuracy. The Dragon, however, was equal to this as it shook off my spell which had made it dance, and unleashed its full savage fury on Fez, knocking him to the floor with a sweep of its wing and stamping down repeatedly on his head. 

The barbarian, however, was made of tougher stuff than the cleric, and his armour was, despite its shabby appearances, highly effective. He shook his head and swung the scythe upwards towards the creature’s belly. 

Endo then tossed me a wand which I had seen him use before, and as I started activating it to make my next blow strike true, he unrolled a scroll and read from it, ending “I wish that we were all healed”. 

Unwounded myself, I could see the terrible injuries on Fez close as his skin knotted back together. The massive injury to Endo’s scalp closed as well and we tightened our grips on our weapons in readiness. Flynne managed to destroy another of the remaining images, but other arrows sparked off the creature’s armour – more worrying still one of the shots slid through the beast – it was clearly protected with yet more powerful protections we had not been aware of. 

The dragon savaged Fez once again; smashing him heavily with its claws and its bite turning his flesh ashen grey. As I thought through the spells in my mind, I began fumbling through a scroll tube to locate the scroll I had which would help alleviate his drained condition. Though terribly wounded once again, Fez bravely continued to slash at the beast, causing it yet more significant damage.

Quickening a spell through the power of his magical rod, Endo flung two spells into the creature – I recognised the second as a powerful spell which could reduce the target to ashes. However, neither spell had any effect – the creature was so powerfully resistant to magic that even my lich-like half-orc comrade’s spells had no effect. 

Ducking and weaving as I ran forwards, I tried to replicate my earlier success and distract the wounded dragon with the magic of song. Slapping my hand down accurately onto its flank through the power of Endo’s wand, I released my spell, and felt it strike, and then shatter completely on the dragon’s magical resistances. 

From within inches of the dragon’s massive flank, I saw its sinuous neck rise up and slash down twice onto Fez. Though the blood flowed freely from his many wounds, they did not look truly life threatening yet, but something from the dragon’s bite caused the savage to stiffen like a board, before collapsing to the floor. I could see that he wasn’t breathing, but then I saw the dragon’s savage maw twisted like a striking snake.

The last thing I saw was the massive barbed teeth closing around my head. There was a brief flash of pain, and then nothing.


----------



## Richard II

Eek!


----------



## Eccles

I awoke, screaming as the sensation of pain faded into mere agony, then went altogether as my flesh and bones were knitted back together with powerful magics. I gingerly opened my eyes, and then closed them again. Standing over my bed in a small church to Fahrlanghan in Mage Point, I could see the pale desiccated face of Endo as well as Janga, a series of still fading scars across his torso a clear indication that he had but recently resurrected. Also in the room was a priest, who was smiling enough that he had clearly just been paid a generous stipend to read from a scroll to bring Janga back from the dead.

I pulled myself up onto my elbows and looked around.

“Where’s Fez? And Flynne?” In response, Endo lifted a magical bag and offered me the chance to look inside, but I didn’t need to – the coppery stench of blood and mangled flesh told e all I needed to know.

“What happened?” 

“I defeated the creature,” announced Endo a little too smugly. “Once everyone else was defeated, I began a sequence of hit-and-run attacks on it using telekinesis – once I managed to fire a harpoon with a chain into it; it was hindered, and knew that it was beaten. I peppered it with crossbow bolts, and was preparing one final spell to take it down for good, when it teleported away.”

He was still gloating about his successes an hour or two later as I sold items to gather funds for two more resurrection spells to bring back our fallen comrades. Once this had been accomplished, we decided to rest and return the following morning to see if we could get a little further into the mess that was Rift Caynon.

.oOo.

The following morning, Janga cast a teleportation spell which he claimed was intended to deposit us directly in front of the giants’ palace which we had seen from afar the previous day. All, however, was not the same as it had been the day before. The palace stood in ruins; the roof was caved in, the few remaining walls blasted and etched with scorch marks from breath weapons, and dead hill giants, fire giants and bugbears littered the area around the ruined palace building.

Several dragons still swooped through the sky – a massive blue dragon, followed by two smaller greens and a red were already on an inbound course, clearly sweeping over the ruins looking for survivors.

Casting around for either a hiding place or somewhere we might head in the absence of the palace, our eyes fell on the citadel of one of the giant sects – mounted on a tremendous spire of stone rising out of the dark of the canyon, we could see the walls were almost completely unscathed by breath weapons, and there were still a few giants behind the walls defending the colossal building.

We scrambled behind a nearby shattered wall to give us some cover and watched aghast as the four dragons swooped down on a distant patrol of fire giants like four tremendous and evil cats falling upon a family of mice.

Leaving this scene behind, I cast a rapid spell of transportation, whisking us away across the causeway to the doors of the “Citadel of Weeping Dragons”, carved out of the top of a thousand foot tall pinnacle. 

We stepped through the dimensional doorway to emerge behind the battlements, at which were also sheltering three towering fire giants. The power of the geas which I had noticed wrapped around the hill giants was far more powerful, and seemed to have thoroughly erntwined these three armoured giants.

“Turn back,” the closest one thundered as he rounded on us.

I tried my hardest. Despite being enchanted myself in spells and equipment to make me more persuasive and convincing, there was nothing I could do to talk them into letting us enter the citadel. Efforts to persuade them that we could help rid them of the giants, that we were looking for something which would take them all away, even that we were native giants who had been polymorphed by an evil sorcerer all failed, and the giants became increasingly frustrated and angry at our refusal to walk away. 

Telling them that we would be leaving as soon as I had cast a couple of spells to protect us from the dragons outside, I cast a series of inquisitive magics and sent my mind inquisitively into theirs, searching out their hidden secrets. 

Within seconds, I had torn from their memories the knowledge that there was a hidden vault within the lower levels of the citadel, and that there was a garrison of some 30 fire giants of the Tiamat Nul’Shadarr within. 

Prompting the giants with a few questions and hits, I learned that there were three other giants who led this tribe – Kagro Thundersmiter, the leader of the clan and a tremendous warrior, Verkin Abex Tor, a frost giant sorcerer of considerable power, and Bram Cleftshank, hunter of dragons and a figure of considerable skill and prowess with his axes and spear. 

When I asked them of the lower crypts, they stared threateningly down at me, clutching at weapons, but their minds flashed a series of images at me. The giants seemed to have no interest whatsoever in the vault, but absently were aware that there were two keys needed – one of which had recently been in the possession of the king in the ruined palace. 

Abex Tor, the sorcerer, seemed to be different, and appeared to have an ‘unhealthy’ interest in the vault – even going so far in the recent past as to the try to open the doors, though without any success. He had spoken to the dead king, Charlgar, with a view to looking through the palace library, and the king had agreed on the condition that he could be lent the key. This condition was met, but the frost giant sorcerer never managed to explore the library, as the dragons invaded shortly thereafter. 

I looked around at my comrades, and could see Endo was staring around intently. I let the power of my mind-reading spell wash over him, and could feel his thoughts touch mine. “I think I know what you’re doing,” he said. “And the layout of this building is slightly off. A silver gets you a gold that there’s a secret entrance to this ‘citadel’ just round the corner there.” 

Taking my cue from his mental prompting, I finally cast the dimension door spell to whish us all away once again, around the corner to where Endo was indicating the likely entrance would be.

Within a minute, Flynne had found it – a patch of rock designed subtly to slide to one side when given enough pressure. I masked us all with a spell of silence cast on a small pebble, and then waited whilst Flynne located and then greased the opening mechanisms. The rocks around us trembled silently as the heavy doorway was pushed open by the black-scaled elf and Fez, and then Flynne pointed silently at a lever just inside the doorway. We crept in and pulled the lever to shut the entrance behind us before I stowed the silencing pebble in one of my magical bags and produced an enchanted lit torch – the first magical item that my comrades and I had ever found.

.oOo.

The passageway into the citadel led upwards, curving into the body of the building before sharply bending to the right. As we moved, Flynne held up his hand and indicated the edges of a hidden door, which he quickly outlined in chalk. The silencing stone was produced once more as Fez turned his bulging muscles to the task at hand, and slowly the massive stone portal ground open.

Beyond lay a hallway from the back of the main gates to our left to a second set of stone doors on the right. We heaved the secret door slowly closed behind us, and then headed further along the secret passageway. 

As we went, Janga passed Flynne an enchanted ring before casting a spell of location to try and find the vaults. I could see from his face that the spell had failed completely, slamming hard into the powerful enchantments which ringed this entire canyon and denied any location magics within it. 

Flynne, meanwhile, slipped on the magical ring and faded from sight as he headed away up the corridor from us. I could see small flakes of dust from the human-sized stepladder carved into the wall at the end of the 50 foot long corridor indicating that the rogue was sneaking upwards to scout out what was ahead. A few moments later a dropped coloured pebble indicated that all was clear, and we headed up the ladder to join him smashed giant-sized sleeping area. The wind howled past the single door, which led out to a weather-beaten upper courtyard alongside a charred and decaying blockhouse. To the far side of the small courtyard stood a giant-sized door, and a small trapdoor led into the blockhouse itself. 

Peering through the trapdoor we could see a chute which led down into a chamber which was filled with a vast pulsating gel-like substance. I tossed a few morsels of trail rations down onto it, and they dissolved in an instant. We pulled back, as heading through the trapdoor was not an option, and as we did so, could see in the distance the big blue dragon fade into sight with a ripple. An instant later, the fang dragon materialised next to it. The two held a discussion whilst looking over towards us. 

.oOo.

Invisibly and silently, Flynne checked the massive door. I saw the handle rise, but he was not strong enough to pull the door open. We moved out to join him, and Fez heaved the door open completely silently. Within stood two platemail clad fire giants, each with a greatsword drawn and their backs to us. 

With a series of shuddering slams, fire arrows transfixed the first, and as the other turned to see what was happening, Fez hurtled in. His enchanted scythe hacked messily at the giant, and both fell to the floor amidst pools of blood. Endo, Janga and I allowed the powerful spells to fade from our lips as Fez moved to pull at the door on the far side. 

Moving quickly before the enchantments on us faded, we dashed down a short corridor and Fez flung open another door. Beyond it, a cavernous room, lit by a glowing iron pot which swung from chains from the ceiling. A stone table dominated the far end of the room, at the end of which sat a huge acid scarred giant. The opposite end of the room held an even larger threat in a recessed stairway – a red scaled hydra blinked lazily. The beast had an easy dozen heads, and as I glimpsed it, it wheezed a tongue of flame from one of its toothy mouths. 

.oOo.

With a roar, the giant leapt to his feet and snatched up a spear, flinging it at the brazier in the ceiling. With a reverberating clang, sparks flew from the brazier as it was smashed from the supporting chains. The spear faded from sight, returning instantly to the giant’s hand, whilst the brazier flew from its mountings, sailing in a wide sputtering arc through the air to crash down into the doorway, showering us all with hot sparks and coals. 

The brazier itself crashed off Fez’s floating rock-shield, and crashed down over Endo. Whilst the rest of us leapt away from the shower of ash, the half orc bellowed in pain as he was coated in hot coals and metal. 

As the giant dashed the length of the room to free the hydra, Flynne dashed into the room to take cover behind the table and shot a single long shaft into the giant’s thigh. Endo, coated in a thick layer of grey ash, cast a spell at the giant, and then I wove an illusion over the entrance to the stairwell, placing a thick wall of bricks to lock it into the small room beyond. I could hear it bellowing as a wash of flame passed through the illusion – I reflexively altered the bricks to make them appear scorched by flames. 

Dashing in, Fez deflexted one spear-stab with the but-end of his scythe before carving the blade of the weapon across the massive figure’s shoulder. I could see, but not hear, the giant roaring in pain as Fez had the silencing stone hidden in one pocket. The huge figure tore a flaming greataxe from over his shoulder and slashed repeatedly at Fez – the floating stone and the armour the ‘halfling’ wore protected him and deflected from every single attack. 

The giant, however, was not so lucky, as Flynne’s 5 arrows crashed home; Endo followed this up by gesturing, and black flames washed over the silently screaming giant. As I cast a spell of silencing over the other door to the room as Fez slashed, and the giant collapsed to the ground. We readied ourselves, and as I dropped the illusion, blows and arrows slammed into the beast, killing it instantly. 

.oOo.

We climbed the huge stairs beyond the hydra’s body – there were two exits beyond; one a heavy stone trapdoor at the top, and the second a long corridor which was lined with grisly mementos and trophies. Preserved and mounted lengths of dragon hide mounted the walls, whilst skulls and talons were dotted across pedestals and hanging from the ceiling. 

We explored several doors beyond – to the right we found a high area of  battlements with a heavy metal chamber set amidst the centre of the square where it could overlook the east. 

To the left lay more chambers, ignoring one room which contained giant furniture and two squares open to the sky containing massive catapults, one of which was damaged, but one destroyed – next to it lay the corpse of yet another charred giant. 

Another room was almost completely empty, apart from a single tremendous arrowslit, which was plated in glass so as to grant a magnified view over the city beyond. We looked down to see a squad of 40 bugbears scattering as a large black dragon landed amidst them, coughing acid and chewing at its ‘snack’. 

A truly colossal red dragon crouched on the lip of the canyon, overlooking everything. The blue and fang dragons (the second completely healed from any damage we had previously inflicted upon it), once again rippled into sight above it. With a snarl, the red dragon gave them each an order, and they began to wing their way towards us in the citadel. 

.oOo.

We turned our backs on the glass window, and continued our search for the vaults by going upwards. With help, Fez pushed open a trapdoor and peered up beyond, before gesturing ‘no’. When he had carefully closed the trapdoor and crept back down again, he described a massive giant staring out at the canyon beyond. We dashed back down the corridor and then down the stairs to the rooms below, ready to continue our exploration of the giant’s citadel.


----------



## Eccles

We decided that the only route we had not explored was back through the secret door we had investigated and then closed, which led from the main double doors into the body of the citadel itself – right underneath the titanic ooze, which was part of some substantial trap mechanism. Pushing the secret door open, the trap itself was the work of moments for Flynne, who found a wide and untrodden area of the floor and banged a couple of spikes into it to ensure it stayed in place. Grinning, several of us then floated over the trapped area, at which point Flynne stomped across muttering something about “ungrateful bastards” to himself as he knelt to heave the pitons back out of the floor re-activating the trap. 

Once Flynne had picked the tremendous lock (having to use one of his magical shortswords as an improvised lockpick as the mechanism was so large), and indicated that all was silent beyond, Fez shoved the door wide open for the rest of us.

Beyond lay a broad, dark and circular chamber, completely empty apart from the corridors leading away to our left and right, and the tremendous scorch marks all over the chamber itself. Black marks from fire lay across deep rents of acid and the stench of azone. Feeling the breeze rush through the room, Endo chuckled in understanding. 

“It’s a diversion chamber,” he announced as though that was supposed to mean anything to us. “A dragon gets this far into the building, and then crashes the doors open. What does a dragon do first? It breathes fire, and the air currents in this room are set up to ensure that dragon breath doesn’t hit what it was aimed at. Then you get some mates, yeah? Down these two corridors, and they come out with big spears. I can guarantee one of them’s going to find something worth stabbing on that dragon, whichever way it’s facing.”

Wincing, we picked the left corridor, and headed along it; turning sharply left again before we picked our way down some dark stairs into a narrow passageway beyond.

.oOo.

At the bottom of the narrow stairs, the passage opened out very slightly as it turned sharply to the left. As we advanced the 20 feet towards the door at the end (ignoring the door to the right halfway along for the moment), and Flynne pushed gently at the door to check what might lie beyond. He abruptly turned, and opened his mouth to call something, but I could see him suddenly looking down the corridor at something. Something tall. Something behind me.

I spun on the spot, and looked up at the towering form of a marilith. The huge female torso swung six heavy scimitars, one of which was burning brightly, whilst the the creature’s heavy tail lashed around her.

There was an incantation from Endo behind me and I could feel the surge of magic as he flung a massive spell at the marilith, before swearing.

“It’s a gods damned illusion,” he spat; and I could see at once that he was right. Flynne, however, was not convinced and sent arrow after arrow streaming down the corridor to spark off the wall behind her. I turned back, and could now see into the room beyond Endo and Flynne at the other end of the short corridor. Squinting around Fez’s polymorphed annis hag form, I could see another scaled multi-limbed opponent in there, but this one appeared to be made from stone. Fearing a powerful spell of protection had been cast at the demon, I flung a counter-spell at what I could see, but the stony marilith didn’t even blink in the teeth of my spell.

Pausing only to let Janga cast a spell of alignment on his cold iron flail, Fez began to move forwards, but not before a whirling wall of blades materialised behind Janga and myself. As Fez moved towards the stone marilith, however, something else slashed down from near the ceiling, sparking off his metal armour. 

Endo flung a spell past Fez, whilst I cast a hastening spell and Flynne fired a series of arrows into the room. Blood spattered from something; not the stone marilith but something else invisible in the small circular chamber. 

A second wall of whirling blades slashed into place within the small chamber, hacking the arms and tail-tip off the statue. Fez ignored the barrier, and simply hacked through it; his flail carving deep furrows into her flesh, and blood spattered around the walls of the small room. 

Endo flung another spell at her, and I followed this up with one of my own, filling the chamber with sparkling glittering golden dust which not only thwarted her invisibility spell, but also her hiding form was clearly outlined with the glitter. Flynne started shooting once again, and sparkling golden blood dripped from the marilith where the spell effects faded and the golden sparks faded to red. 

The marilith gestured, and I felt an invisible force grip me and throw me backwards, and I could see Flynne’s limbs flailing as he was thrown through the air as well. In unison, we each twisted in the air and then spun, each of us gyring at the last possible moment so that we span through the blade barrier, caught ourselves with one hand and one foot as we crashed into the back wall before dropping to the ground. I straightened my hat, and noticed that Flynne was already nocking more arrows to his bow. 

Beyond the flashing blade wall, I saw that Fez was still hacking at the marilith, but then the side door crashed open, and a towering frost giant, encrusted with ice and clutching an ice-covered warmace glowered out at us all. With a wave and an incantation, the frost giant cast a terrible spell, and Fez simply disappeared. 

Endo, apparently, recognised what was going on, cast a spell of his own wishing that the barbarian be returned to us quickly. He then flung a powerful draining spell onto the giant, which tore at its willpower and casting abilities. 

Janga’s spell, almost poetically, set up his own barrier of whirling blades over the giant’s entrance, and whilst Flynne slid back through a second tiny gap in the blade barrier before perforating the marilith and sent it crashing to the floor, I cast a simple spell which filled the small room in which the giant stood. The frost giant sorcerer opened his mouth to cast another spell, and realised abruptly that he couldn’t make a sound. He turned, lifted a curtain in the corner of his room, and vanished down a flight of stairs.

A few moments later, a frustrated Fez reappeared standing over the corpse of the marilith. We regrouped, and dashed on after, pausing only to snatch a few interesting items from the frost giant’s well appointed study room and then headed on down the stairs.

We descended into an oddly shaped room, at the far end of which was a massive set of double doors flanked by towering giants with iron grey skin which seemed dry and cracked; receding from their claws and teeth. Close inspection of the two huge doors showed that each was covered in separate carvings. Across the centre, we could see a figure trapped within a trapezoid shape surrounded by dozens of tiny worms. On the left were hundreds of stone giants fighting worm infested undead. On the right door, a dizen figures stood on a stony ledge carrying out a ritual, whilst defended from the rampaging undead by a handful of familiar looking figures. 

The doors were locked with two small golden keyholes. 

.oOo.

As we studied the doors, there was a sudden pale shimmering figure which glided through the floor to float in the air before us. My jaw dropped at the sight of the familiar figure – Alastor, the child ghost we had laid to rest back in Diamond Lake, had travelled with us, and seemed to have a message for us. 

“Well met, friends,” the spirit of the dead farm boy said, “Long have our journeys been since our last meeting. You have come far in your quest to stop the abomination that rises even as we speak, and I have been down long roads in other worlds learning who and what I am. And now, here at this juncture, our paths cross again. Oh I know most of you think you do not know me, for your spirits wore other guises when last we met, but search your souls and all will be made clear. As you have doubtless learned, an age ago the Wind Dukes fought a great battle against the Armies of Chaos. The Rod was broken into seven parts and scattered across the cosmos. Tombs were built to inter the honored dead, but the Wind Dukes did not abandon the field of battle entirely. Certain guardians were left behind to watch and wait for the reemergence of the Age of Worms. One of these guardians was an order of mortal druids. The Wind Dukes taught these druids their secrets, and this order grew powerful. They became the Order of the Storm, and they defeated Kyuss nearly fifteen centuries ago. Kyuss was banished, locked away in a stony prison, but now he threatens once again.

”Over long years, the secret watchers joined with the cultures around them. These guardians forgot their cause, and traditions were abandoned. My family, the Land family, named for their sacred attachment to the hallowed grounds of the Wind Dukes, were among the last of these watchers. Though the blood of the Wind Dukes ran thin in my veins, it still called to me and allowed me access to the tomb of Zosiel until my destiny was fulfilled and I fell to a trap. Likewise, your coming to the Whispering Cairn was no accident. I can smell the mark of the Wind Dukes within you, heroes. You may be the last of a long line, the only surviving heirs to the Wind Duke legacy. As such I have come to advise you one more time.

”Kyuss’ strength lies in his prison. When he became a god, he became trapped in the focus of his divine apotheosis…a massive monolith of stone affixed to the peak of the Spire of Long Shadows. Dragotha stole this monolith long ago and brought it to his lair in Skull Gorge. Over the centuries, the presence of Kyuss’ monolith transformed this portion of the canyon into what is known today as the Wormcrawl Fissure. Once, after Dragotha was murdered by the Chromatic Dragon and returned to unlife by the Wormgod, Kyuss managed to escape his prison. With Dragotha as the general of his undead armies, the Wormgod rose from the Fissure and attempted to begin the Age of Worms, but the Order of the Storm was ready.

“You know of this battle. And now you know that in the room beyond lies Dragotha’s phylactery. Yet to reach it, you must look into your memories, your souls. Find the ritual of opening, and use the vault keys. Yet know also that once these doors open, the phylactery vault will be open to all. Dragotha and his minions will smell his phylactery and they shall come to claim it. You must be quick. If you destroy the phylactery, Dragotha can be truly slain, but as his life-force escapes, he may be able to reclaim some of it from the beyond…destroying the phylactery may make him more dangerous than ever before. Yet I see little choice.

“I must go now. You shall not see me again, I think, until you join me on the other side. Good luck, my friends, and farewell…” With that, a smile crossed the ghost’s lips and he simply faded away.

.oOo.

We started to discuss what we had learned, but our thoughts were interrupted by a tremendous crashing as something tore the curtain upstairs from the wall. Two huge giants began to descend, and were not slowed by my shouting that we were trying to get rid of the giants.

Within moments, the doorway was blocked by the return of the frost giant sorcerer, and he had brought the giant king with him. Our exit way was blocked, and we were in trouble.


----------



## Eccles

With thanks to JollyDoc for typing all the information on that big bit of text from the ghost, which I couldn't write down fast enough!

(Yes, I did just copy it wholesale out of his SH!)


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> With thanks to JollyDoc for typing all the information on that big bit of text from the ghost, which I couldn't write down fast enough!
> 
> (Yes, I did just copy it wholesale out of his SH!)




Heh - yep, I can see that!  All the NPCs and places in his campaign are renamed!


----------



## Eccles

OK. I was sleepy. I'll go fix it.

Oh, and Russ - why on earth were you up and posting at 4 in the morning? And noticing things like people's names being wrong? Or noticing *anything* for that matter?


----------



## Morrus

A couple of pertinent images from this week's session.  I won't explain them, though - I'll leave that to Eccles.


----------



## Eccles

You're not seriously expecting me to explain the first one, are you? That's just _mean_.

OK then! When I get typing!


----------



## Eccles

As the two giants closed on us snarling, there was a sudden whimpering noise behind me. Turning, I could see Endo making a strange expression and clutching his britches. Moaning and making a series of strange expressions, the pale-skinned half orc collapsed to the floor. Fez sniffed the air.

“Did he just… soil himself,” asked the barbarian in disdain.

“DEFILERS!” My reply was cut off by the bellowing giant king in the doorway. “Ransackers of the sacred vault!”

“Wait,” I stretched out my arms imploringly to the frost giant sorcerer rather than the towering warrior behind him. “We believe that we can open the doors.”

“Defilers!” I was silenced again by the king, but the sorcerer had paused in his incantation. Swiftly, I went on to point at the doors behind us. “Kyuss,” I gestured at the image engraved on the heavy doors. “Giants,” I pointed; “dragons,” there was another gesture. “And us.” I could see the sorcerer suddenly curious, but his announcement was one of scorn.

“Preposterous. Invaders would not seek anything less than treasure within the vaults,” announced the frost giant in stentorian tones. 

“Wrong. We would willingly leave treasure were our suspicions correct. Aid us. We know you have one of the keys.” As I spoke, the king’s hand twitched up towards his neck and we all saw something glinting on a chain. 

“You speak true,” announced the giant. “But the other was taken by Brazzumel the Burning – mighty lieutenant of the dragon named Dragotha.”

“Dragotha, you say? The very creature whose desires we seek to thwart. So what say you? Will you aid us in our cause?” I gestured down at Endo’s prone (and faintly reeking) body. “As you can see, we are in no position to combat both yourselves _and_ the giants.”

The two massive figures backed away up the stairs and we could hear a rumbling discussion taking place. A few moments later they returned, and the giant gripped his massive axe tightly as he nodded. “I have agreed,” he rumbled. “I have one key here, yet there is a problem. Brazzumel the Burning. We have agreed that we shall assist you – my suggestion is that we move out and make it clear that we have they key…”

Our discussions carried on for some while over the best way to combine our abilities, but in all that time Endo did not recover. With no other options, we prepared. Spell after spell was layered over us by Janga, myself and Verbennax Tor, the Frost Giant sorcerer. Giant enchantments were layered over holy blessings, which in turn overlapped with my own enthusing chants and spells. Through my spell-seeing spectacles, it was apparent that each of us was a veritable riot of spells and enhancements. We were at our very peak as we stepped out of the giant citadel to confront what was waiting for us.

.oOo.

As the heavy doors crashed shut behind us, the air was still and silent, but for the heavy wing beats of the ever-present dragons. Three truly gigantic forms detached themselves from the overhead horde, and as they descended towards us their numbers seemed to swell – magical spells made it look as though there were fifteen or twenty dragons flying tightly around one another. 

As they descended, our thoughts swam with what we were about to confront – the brown scaled fang dragon was diving like a hawk, eager to close on us once again. Behind it swooped in two even larger forms, one blue, and one red – each positively swimming with mystical enchantments. They took up position hovering in the air above and ahead of us; the red directly ahead, the blue to our left, and the fang angrily stretching its claws near the bridge on the right. 

Battle was joined.

.oOo.

Enchanted with the ability to see through illusions by Janga, Flynne was the quickest to act, and four of his 5 arrows slammed home into the red dragon’s massively thick hide. Although a tremendous shower of blood fell into the canyon below, the dragon’s powerful form still stretched out eager to destroy us. 

Kaggro Thundersmiter, the king of the giants, unlimbered a fistful of javelins and threw three of them rapidly towards the armour-plated fang dragon – the beast simply batted them out of the air.

For myself, I began by trying to dispel the magics enhancing the blue dragon – I was astonished to see my spell taking effect beyond all reasonable expectation – it shredded through the blue dragon’s magics, and in a heartbeat it was stripped of enhancements, protections and multiple images. The dragon wailed in frustration. “You will be the first to die,” it screamed at me in angry dragon-tongue.

Whilst my spell had been tremendously effective, Tor’s was not. I saw him fling something towards the fang dragon, but it failed to ensnare the beast. It responded; flinging a spell straight back at the frost giant, and a dark wave built up as it flew towards the sorcerer, but rather than washing over him it simply rebounded on the fang dragon. Crashing home, the wave faded once again on the dragon’s powerful natural protection. 

Taking flight, Fez flew over the blue dragon and unleashed a shot from his sling. I had seen the sling when he was Halfling-sized, and been astounded by what he could do with it. Swelled to the size of an annis hag, however, he was firing a slingstone the size of both my fists together, and it crashed home into the blue dragon, cracking one of its massive armoured plates with the force of the blow. 

Finally, however, the mighty red dragon decided to take steps. Surging into action, it unleashed its breath – tremendous gouts of flame poured over us – a blaze of agony which caused Verbennax Tor, a being of cold and frost to scream in pain. I misjudged my leaping aside, and felt the tongues of flame probing at Janga’s protective spell. The heat built up and grew again, swelling until I was bathed in a true inferno. I could feel the spell failing under the onslaught, and just as I could feel it breaking and the heat building up to savage temperatures, the flame washed over me, leaving the protective spell utterly exhausted, but I was completely unharmed. 

Even as it was breathing the inferno over us, Brazzumel the Burning was still chanting, and as the flames subsided, the dragon launched an incredibly powerful spell at the savage form of Fez. To my immense relief, however, the spell failed against his savage fury. 

Even as the barbarian was shaking off the spell, the blue dragon launched a crackling blast of lightning up at him, before tearing at his magics, reaming several of them away. In a heartbeat, Fez was reduced in stature, becoming man-sized and began to drift gently downwards into the Rift Canyon. 

Taking a moment to cure himself of the terrible burn injuries he had suffered, Janga then flew across to Fez and passed him a potion flask, at which point Kaggro unlimbered his greataxe and leapt through the air at the blue dragon, whilst Flynne fired another salvo of arrows at the massive red – each of its 9 images to my eyes seemed to have well over half a dozen arrows sticking out of it. 

I dashed across to a massive giant-sized ballista mounted to one side of the doors, and used it to fire a tremendous harpoon across at the fang dragon – despite hurtling straight at the beast’s heart, the harpoon simply shattered against its scales. As the broken harpoon fell into the canyon below, Verbennax Tor cast his powerful spell once again, and the fang dragon dramatically vanished from all existence. 

Drinking the potion, Fez took flight once again and flew to take up a position on the other side of the blue dragon from the giant king. As he flew into position, the massive blue dragon snapped at him and opened up a series of deep gashes in his forearm.

Snarling out the words to the same viciously powerful spell, the red directed it this time towards the towering figure of Kaggro Thundersmiter, but he was also able to shake of whatever insidious effects the red dragon was trying to impose. The blue dragon savagely attacked the king. Lashing out with teeth, tail, wings and claws, the massive blows slammed down. The king ducked and weaved between several of the blows, but some of them inevitably struck home. Each of those which did caused a bright flash from a protective aura set on the massive giant by Janga. Despite the power behind the blows, the king appeared only slightly the worse for them. 

As Flynne fired yet more arrows into the vast red dragon, Janga cast another dispelling enchantment into the fight, this time tearing into the spells which surrounded this largest dragon. The multiple images vanished, and the dragon appeared to take a lurch several feet to the left as several spells were stripped away – its scales (which I realised were encrusted with hundreds of gems) seemed somehow to have lost much of their lustre.

To the red dragon’s right, there came a draconic moan of pain and alarm as Kaggro Thundersmiter unleashed tremendous blows with his axe – three terrible wounds opened across the beast.

As I fired a special type of bolt into the red dragon (which shattered and splashed it with venoms which had no appreciable effect), Tor followed my ineffectual attack with a spell of his own – he flung an orb of pure cold at the massive red dragon, but it simply failed; perhaps melting in the heat emanating from the huge creature. 

Still flanking the blue dragon, Fez slashed down with his scythe, which bit deeply four more times; as the scythe took its heavy toll, the blue dragon’s wings folded, and it began to spiral away into the canyon.

As we all turned to face Brazzumel the Burning, it snarled out a spell, once again targeting Fez who was able to shake off the spell somehow, to be immediately avenged by Flynne, as yet more arrows slammed into the dragon’s chest. 

Flying like an arrow himself, the giant king then hurtled nimbly towards the red dragon, slashing precisely at its flank with his glowing axe before speeding on to take up a position on the other side of the beast, whilst yet another blast of cold slammed into it – this time Tor’s spell took full effect, and the sudden rime of frost covered the fire dragon, which screamed in pain and alarm. As it raised its head, the key could clearly be seen dangling from a length of chain around its neck. 

Screaming himself, Fez hurtled to the right side of the dragon, and whilst it bit him deeply, his scythe carved all the deeper through the gem-encrusted scales. 

The dragon let out a long high-pitched wail of pain, and a ring on its claw glowed suddenly – wounds and deep gashes on its flanks began to seal up, before the beast flapped its wings with a snap, hurtling upwards, then breathed a massive cone of flame down onto the two fighters who were hovering in the air beneath it. 

Kaggro Thundersmiter simply laughed up at the dragon, as his fire giant heritage meant that mere heat was nothing to him, whilst the flames washed over the magical protections warding Fez. Both of them emerged from the flames with nothing more than a murderous glint in their eyes.

Whilst Janga cured himself of injuries he had taken, Flynne continued shooting arrow after arrow at the red dragon, some of which glanced off, but many of which continued to slam home, leaving deep wounds. Hotly pursued by Fez, the giant king flew upwards, and his reach was the greater of the two warriors. His tremendous axe carved through the air, and smashed deeply into the dragon’s skull – the beast’s wings collapsed, and I could see that it was about to start to fall. Brazzumel the Burning was defeated. 

Acting quickly, I flew over to the vast dragon’s body, and perched upon its shoulders, where I cast a spell which would dramatically reduce the beast’s fall; then Tor cast a spell creating a powerful blast of wind which would blow the dragon back towards the gates so that we might recover the key. Immune to the blast of wind, I stood yelling in pleasure, as I surfed the red dragon’s wide back; we descended gracefully before landing roughly on the steps to the citadel. I rolled off the beast and came up on my feet, key in hand.

Behind me, Tor yelled that the fang dragon would eventually return, and the warriors were swift in surrounding the space it had once occupied. Moments after they had arrived, the huge rocky-skinned dragon returned to reality, blinking at the chaos and the corpse of its master Brazzumel lying dead upon the floor. 

Janga cast an awesomely powerful dispelling magic, which tore off an alarming number of enchantments, at which point Fez very nearly tore off the dragon’s head with his scythe, and after a salvo of arrows from Flynne and Kaggro Thundersmiter’s terrifyingly powerful and accurate attacks, it was a miracle that the dragon was still able to launch a series of attacks at Fez. Only two of the many blows managed to connect with the well-prepared barbarian, but these were clearly backed with a terrifying enchantment of their own, as Fez sagged and paled with the claw rake and bite.

Hovering just behind him, however, Janga simply reached out and touched Fez on the shoulder, and instantly all the damage and weakness were repaired. Fez grinned – his pointed teeth shone in the twilight which was shining across the top of the Rift Canyon as he swung his scythe one final, fatal time – the fang dragon dropped from the sky.

It fell no more than 5 feet, before crashing onto a wall of force the frost giant sorcerer had summoned beneath it; angled so that the dragon slid down onto the solid causeway. We fell upon the dragons to seize enchanted items and trophies, as well as prising the many gems out of the scales of Brazzumel the Burning, before heading down through the citadel and to the vault. 

As Kaggro Thundersmiter passed his key to Fez, I produced the other, and each of us approached the doors. As we did, I could see Fez’s eyes open wide, and a second later I realised why. Memories and knowledge from 1500 years before flooded into my mind, and with them a song. I raised my voice as best I knew how, chanting verses lost to the ages, and the glowing runes on the door faded gently until they, too, were nothing more than a memory. Unlocking the doors, we pushed them open.

.oOo.

Beyond lay a tall room, in the centre of which stood a towering statue of a rampant dragon. In the centre of the statue’s chest there was a large ruby red box. The box pulsed, and striations of red rock running up the sides of the room pulsed in turn, as though we were standing within the body of something truly colossal. A flickering light pulsed and faded, and then Fez stepped up and swung his flail down with all his might – the ruby box cracked, and the lights burned brightly and then faded again. 

He hit it again; the crack grew and the lights faded still further, and then with a third blow the phylactery of the dracoliche Dragotha shattered and exploded into a thousand pieces.

Both Verbennax Tor and Kaggro Thundersmiter suddenly let out feral shrieks, as blood foamed from their mouths and noses. Their eyes rolled up into the backs of their heads, and each of them collapsed, dead, to the floor of the vault room. 

“Waste not want not.”

I can’t remember who said it first, but we all turned to the dead giants with eyes on their many items of magic. 

It had been a good day. We even remembered to pick up Endo before we teleported back to Mage Point and began our latest shopping expedition.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Ah - that was a fun session!

The only big downer for me was the giants dieing when the phalyctery was smashed... I liked them and they'd made fun NPCs. 

Still, we've got their hordes of items to remember them by - which is something at least.   

In case anyone is wondering, the first picture was a recreation of the first paragraph of the story.  

Thanks for another fine write up Mr Eccles! 

Wonder what new madness tonights session has in store for us. Off to visit Dragotha - which is sure to be a fun trip.


----------



## Dr Simon

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> In case anyone is wondering, the first picture was a recreation of the first paragraph of the story.




So what was going on there?  Was Endo's player off with a dose of noro-virus or something?


----------



## Dpulse303

Dr Simon said:
			
		

> So what was going on there?  Was Endo's player off with a dose of noro-virus or something?





Exactly.

not meening to belittle but i thought the malteser representing a poo bubble was in poor taste. :\


----------



## Morrus

Dpulse303 said:
			
		

> not meening to belittle but i thought the malteser representing a poo bubble was in poor taste. :\




Because you're a paragon of taste, Dave!


----------



## Dpulse303

Morrus said:
			
		

> Because you're a paragon of taste, Dave!





So you had noticed!!   

and here have a bump ! half way down second page ? I blame Nickerless for not writing it up quicker....


----------



## Eccles

Can I blame Morrus for having exams last friday hence no update?


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Can I blame Morrus for having exams last friday hence no update?




96%, baby!


----------



## Eccles

Morrus said:
			
		

> 96%, baby!




...that's a pass, right?

(well done, sir!)


----------



## Dpulse303

Dpulse303 said:
			
		

> not meening to belittle but i thought the malteser representing a poo bubble was in poor taste. :\





not a taste thing really it just put me off maltesers for a while ....  



well done on the exam Russ.


----------



## Eccles

Back in the safety of Mage Point, following a great deal of bartering for new equipment and the sale of captured goods, we began a series of divining the way forwards. I began by focussing on a portion of the destroyed phylactery as I cast a spell of legends. After a few hours, my mind filled with words.

“Master of the Wormcrawl Fissure,
Beware his negative breath,
His gaze will stop you in your tracks,
Prior planning will ward off attacks.”

Janga’s request for aid from Fahrlanghan came back with the suggestion that we “Seek the aid of the tripartite spirit”, and when we enquired what was meant by that we were then told that it was “the fractured soul of he who you once sought – the lost friend of your mentor.”

Balakarde was the only name we could come up with. 

We then turned to a more powerful divination spell, and once again asked questions directly of Fahrlanghan – 

Is Dragotha immune to damage from heat and fire? _*YES*_
Would we require a specific weapon substance to damage him? _*NO*_
Would we require a specific type of weapon to hurt him? _*YES*_
Would we have to use sweeping bladed weapons? _*NO*_
Would we be advised to use blunted weapons? _*YES*_
Would any weapon have to be aligned to damage Dragotha? _*NO*_
Does Dragotha breathe fire? _*YES*_
Does Dragotha have the ability to breathe any other type of element? _*NO*_
Does Dragotha’s breath weaken the soul directly? _*NO*_
Does Dragotha’s “negative breath” cause pain directly to the body? _*YES*_
Does he have minions protecting him and his lair? _*YES*_
Are some of those minions undead? _*YES*_
Are some of those minions living? _*YES*_
Would it be more than a three hour walk to his lair from the edge of the canyon? _*YES*_
Would it require walking for more than a day? _*NO*_
Will Dragotha’s agents reside in the first mile of his lair? _*NO*_
Can Dragotha cast the spell “Mordenkainen’s Disjunction”? _*NO*_
Is Dragotha a more powerful spellcaster than Endo? _*NO*_
Is he infested with the worms of Kyuss? _*NO*_
Other than being made undead, was Dragotha given any other gifts by Kyuss? _*YES*_
Can he mix fire and negative energies into a single breath attack? _*NO*_
Will we locate the ‘tripartate spirit’ within the Womcrawl Fissure? _*YES*_
Does Dragotha share his personal chamber within his lair with any other creature? _*YES*_
Is the being Dragotha shares his lair with a spellcaster? _*UNCLEAR*_
Are there any lingering spells cast upon Dragotha’s lair? _*YES*_

We then finally had an appointment to speak with Manzorian, after waiting for more than a day for him to become available. Once led into his study, we stood in a row in front of his desk and he peered over his glasses at us. 

“I regret,” he began, “that I will be unable to accompany you. I have a pressing engagement elsewhere as I need to remonstrate with Tiamat. However, I have only to wish you luck in your endeavours.”

Realising that the powerful archmage wasn’t going to help us rescue our whole world, we set off – a rapid teleportation spell took us to the western end of the Rift Canyon, where it descended rapidly to become the Wormcrawl Fissure itself. Gazing down over the fissure, we could see the plunging depths disappearing into clouds deep within the fissure. Glimpses through the thick clouds we could see that the far end of the fissure was perhaps as much as a mile deep. 

We began to descend, taking the long slow pathway down through the clouds and into the Wormcrawl fissure. Around the edge, we could see effigies and warnings – skeletons nailed to boards, some painted red and others with leather ‘worms’ crawling through them. We moved past these warnings and headed ever downwards into the depths.

.oOo.

At the bottom, the ground was damp and fog wreathed the soil amidst the stench of decay. The rough ground of the fissure stretched out before us, and abruptly something assaulted my mind.

A vision of the deep gorge pocked with rifts and tears deep into the floor, was followed abruptly by the image of a towering worm, whose head was a tangle of eyes and writhing filaments, which lunged out to consume me – I could see the beasts teeth closing even as it faded from my mind. Finally, I could see the vision of a stately looking man in an explorer’s outfit, with a high beard and moustache picking his way through a cavern. There was a sudden look of horror on his face as his skin dissolved and the flesh beneath began to rot away – worms burst from his chest and consumed him utterly, even as he attempted to cast a spell.

Amidst the cascading images of tentacles, I could hear the distant sound of screaming, and as I returned to my senses I began to realise that the voice was my own. As I blinked the images from my eyes, Janga dashed across to where I was curled into a ball on the floor, and with a murmured prayer he cured my afflictions. I was left with only a lingering feeling of connection – there was something ahead of me which I suddenly had a desire to seek out. 

.oOo.

I guided the others forwards across the floor of the chasm, twisting and writhing in one direction or another into a maze of smaller chasms and rifts, and at the very narrowest part of the rift where we reached a narrow point ended with a flat wall.

Approaching the wall, my vision blurred through the magic of my enchanted spectacles. Suspecting an illusion, I stepped up the wall and pushed my hand through the curface as though it was a gauzy curtain – and immediately there was an unearthly screaming sound from beyond. Sticking his head through the illusionary wall, I saw Flynne blink once, and then a roaring curtain of fire blasted down over what I could see were a number of screaming mushrooms. In a heartbeat they were immolated and reduced to a series of burned crisps on the cavern floor. 

We pushed through the illusionary wall, and into the wide cavern beyond, where we could see a broad cave digging into the cliff wall and curving out of sight to the left, as well as a second passageway to the right. Janga was still outside prodding ineffectually at the illusionary wall when Flynne’s fist simply pushed out of it, grabbed the front of his armour and dragged him through just in time to hear scuttling noises from the right hand cave.

From 50 feet away, we saw a group of 6 thirty five foot long centipedes, each writhing and curving around the other, their long pale sinuous bodies dripping worms and other vile icors to the ground, and where these drips landed then the earth erupted into decay and vile nodules of fungus burst from the ground. 

The creatures hurtled, scuttling, towards us and teeth snapped shut, thwarted by Flynne’s fast reactions and Fez’s massively thick armour. I then pulled out a staff from its place slung over my shoulder, and triggered its magic. The last of the magics in the staff erupted in dramatic fashion, washing over the closest creatures and blasting them all with a ball of fire which would have seriously wounded me with its heat but which seemed to leave the beasts scorched but still healthy.

As I discarded the exhausted staff, Janga followed up with magic of his own, reading a scroll which silently burst the far end of the cavern with light which washed over the beasts even as Flynne started firing into the closest of the centipedes. With each shot he pulled an arrow from a different part of his quiver until he struck upon one which sank deeply into the flanks of the centipede. Smiling, he drew a second silver arrow and fired it, and then a third, which sank into the beast’s skull and left it quivering slightly on the ruined earth. 

Fez quaffed a potion, and swelled to massive proportions, flying into the centre of the room. As he went, he pulled out a new blade – it was one I had been admiring before we had set out. The massively enchanted adamantine short-blade was layered with enchantments; on one side was a carving of dawn, whilst on the back was a sunset; each nearly identical, with elven script across the guard reading “Between dawn and dusk, ruin lies along my blade”. As he swung the weapon through the air, the razor edge of his sunblade glowed with the burning light for which it was named. 

As the surrounding centipedes rotting jaws clattered off Fez, I started to encourage the others with a chant, and enthused, Flynne managed to slaughter a second with his heavily enchanted bow. This denied Fez his target, and so he flew a short distance across the cavern to stand between two others. As he got there, one of them reached up to snap at him, and caught him through the thick armour of his leg. Taken completely by surprise by this, he swing his sword and missed.

As Janga fired a shot from his sling from a few yards to my right, he and I were taken completely by surprise by two of the centipedes bursting from the floor in front of us. They twisted as they rose, and clattering jaws snapped down towards Flynne and Janga, but whilst Flynne was fortunate enough to escape, Janga was bitten deeply across his weapon arm. 

Meanwhile, Fez was assaulted by 4 bites from the 2 centipedes around him; one of them bit deeply into him – he completely ignored the venom dripping from their chittering jaws. Likewise, Flynne ignored the lashing teeth which tried to clamp onto him as he fired another salvo of silvered arrows into the centipede attacking him. Spitted with 4 or 5 arrows, the beast collapsed. 

Whilst I was casting a spell of _haste_, a 20 foot long scorpion-like beast burst from beneath rocks behind us. Lashing three crystal-tipped tails in the air behind its long low plated body, I could feel waves of mental energies assaulting me, and watched as Janga also shook the force off.

However, at the same time, a terrible claw scythed into my back; and I was snatched off the floor by the beast’s powerful forelimb. As it began to squeeze me tighter and tighter, I could dimly see Fez sweeping his enchanted sword through one of the centipedes – in a single blow he swept its head off, and then with a second swing he slaughtered another. 

As Janga swept out of the cavern and flew into the air outside, I managed to croak out the words of a spell and disappear away to hang in the air next to the cleric and high above the terrifying scorpion. Flynne also flew away from the beast, further into the cave, and was pursued inwards by the massive scorpion-beast. Janga in turn flew back into the cavern, chanting all the while.

Floating downwards to view what was going on, I could see the scorpion blast out some strange effect around it, and this swept over Fez. The magics sank into him, and he was unable to shake them off. Succumbing to the beast’s powers, I paused to inspect him, but could see no appreciable effect on him whatsoever. He hacked downwards at it, cracking a couple of its thick armoured plates with his sunblade. 

I produced a second, brand new enchanted staff and summoned up one of its powers, vaporising the scorpion instantly with a blazing ray of sunlight. This left only a single centipede in the chamber.

However, the fight was not yet over, as from my position near the entrance I saw a stream of vile spew rush in a torrent down the curving corridor to spatter across my comrades – with a brief flicker, a truly massive ulurghaster could be seen down the corridor – much like the creature which had burst forth into the Free City arena, but this one was far bigger, and even as it vomited forth bile over my comrades and lashed around with tendrils which were easily 40 feet in length, it faded once again from sight. 

Flynne’s arrow flew out and was smashed out of the air by an unseen tentacle, and so he spun and slammed several other arrows into the last centipede, destroying it.

Janga, reading from a scroll, cured the injuries of everyone around him, and then he flew back through the air towards me at the entrance. Fez reacted in his usual violent manner by flying through the air straight towards the creature. Its invisibility dropped for the instant it took for him to be snatched out of the air by the massive toothy maw, and then he hung in the air stabbing down at the unseen foe.

Casting a spell, I managed to make the unseen beast visible – outlined in golden shimmers we could see the thousands of lashing tendrils each outlined in shining glitter as they tore through the air around the beast, raising welts and wounds on those close enough to the undead terror. 

Casting a spell on him, Janga told Flynne that he would now be safe from being swallowed (he was looking grimly nervous at the realisation that one of these had killed him in the past). The ulurghasta, however, focussed and suddenly the cavern was filled with identical bodies – 9 of the massive glittering beasts writhed around one another, and all 9 of them seemed to gulp. Shouting in alarm, Fez was swallowed down one of the massive gullets.

As we were worrying about what to do next, the 9 ulurghastas all suddenly went rigid. The blistering light of the sunblade suddenly protruded from its chest and then disappeared once again. Amidst a sudden explosion of gore and rotting flesh, the vast beast simply exploded, decaying matter often vanishing from the air as the beast’s spells failed. 

Standing amidst the wet mess, Fez stood – his pointed teeth grinning broadly as he sheathed his sunblade and cracked his knuckles in grim satisfaction.

.oOo.

We crept down another long corridor, circumnavigating a number of viciously powerful magical traps as we approached the end of the corridor, drawn inexorably onwards by the strange attraction I was still experiencing. At the end of the corridor was a small chamber which contained 7 chests. Checking them carefully, we opened them and marvelled at the riches contained within. Gems, coins and magical items all dwarfed by the mystical power contained within a small pouch in the second of the seven chests. 

Picking up the pouch, the ‘tug’ on my mind ended abruptly, and my mind was flooded with unbidden knowledge, as though a series of expert scholars were whispering knowledge directly into my mind. The flood of new knowledge brought with it a burst of consciousness and spiritual awareness, together with the certain knowledge that two other items were nearby within the chasm – keyed to slaying and artistry.

With a sinking feeling, I took the pouch and passed it to Janga, feeling the elation of knowledge leave me abruptly as he took up the pouch and his face burst into a broad smile as he was taken suddenly closer to his god in terms of knowledge and spiritual power.


----------



## Eccles

Highly amusing. Massively advanced ulurghasta with far too many levels in sorceror. Swallowed the barbarian into a gullet which did 1d8 Con damage per round.

So the barbarian did the only thing he could; which was to deal 560+ points of damage in a single round, utterly destroying it. Which was pretty cool...

Oh, and Endo was (as you may have guessed), away again. Hence his lack of input this week.


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

AC 20 innards and a lack of protective magic internally didn't do it much good... Barbarian indigestion ftw!

Although it could have been quite ugly - stomach was full of skeletal dragons - which just isn't friendly.

Nice writeup there Mr Eccles!


----------



## Quartz

Eccles said:
			
		

> So the barbarian did the only thing he could; which was to deal 560+ points of damage in a single round, utterly destroying it.




How the blazes did he manage that? I presume there's an auto-crit weapon in there somewhere.


----------



## Eccles

Quartz said:
			
		

> How the blazes did he manage that? I presume there's an auto-crit weapon in there somewhere.




5 attacks (hasted), +4/+4 bardic buff on his every attack, full power attacking wielding a sunblade which doubled his every damage. 

It was messy.


----------



## Morrus

Quartz said:
			
		

> How the blazes did he manage that? I presume there's an auto-crit weapon in there somewhere.




To be fair, that is a record, I think.  Inconsequenti-Al always plays incredibly.. umm... _potent_ characters.

There were a bunch of skeletons already in the stomach (including a young red dragon), and I wanted to use them to grapple him within the stomach smply to keep him from cutting his way out and thus inflicting another round of Con damage, but I was persuaded by the players that a round of surprise on them was fair.  

And a round is all he needs to kill your CR 25 big monster.


----------



## Morrus

Inconsequenti-AL said:
			
		

> AC 20 innards




AC 14 innards!


----------



## Eccles

We're seriously considering "Feed it the barbarian" as our opening gambit in future...


----------



## Quartz

Eccles said:
			
		

> 5 attacks (hasted), +4/+4 bardic buff on his every attack, full power attacking wielding a sunblade which doubled his every damage.




Ah, with a weapon of such potency, I'm not surprised. That damage figure is actually quite low for an optimised 20th level barbarian. Consider that his raging Str must have been around 42 - 16 base, +5 inherent, +5 from levels, +6 Enhancement, +8 Rage, + 2 Enlarge for +16 total or +24 for a 2H weapon. Plus +40 for Power Attacking for 20. Plus +4 for the bard. Plus 16 for an enlarged bastard sword +5 (average damage of 2d10+5). 84 HP per attack for 5 attacks. All doubled from the blade. *That's 84x5x2=840 damage*. 

So he's not a 20th level barbarian and / or doesn't quite have the Str.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Eccles said:
			
		

> We're seriously considering "Feed it the barbarian" as our opening gambit in future...




I love this as an idea! Although it's only going to really work if the creature is an undead, of course.


----------



## Morrus

Quartz said:
			
		

> So he's not a 20th level barbarian and / or doesn't quite have the Str.




He's not a 20th level barbarian.

The party's all at 18th at present.


----------



## Quartz

Ah well, we can now work backwards. Each attack has to do at least 112 damage, 56 before doubling. He's investing 18 points in PA which give 36 damage, so we need to find 20 damage. Take off the +4 from the bard leaves 16. Assuming starting Str 16, +4 from levels gives Str 20, +6 Enhancement OR + 6 from Rage gives Str 26 for +12, and 9 (Average) + Bonus damage from the weapon and we're more than there.

That's an awesome weapon. It should help mightily in the final battle.


----------



## Morrus

Quartz said:
			
		

> Ah well, we can now work backwards. Each attack has to do at least 112 damage, 56 before doubling. He's investing 18 points in PA which give 36 damage, so we need to find 20 damage. Take off the +4 from the bard leaves 16. Assuming starting Str 16, +4 from levels gives Str 20, +6 Enhancement OR + 6 from Rage gives Str 26 for +12, and 9 (Average) + Bonus damage from the weapon and we're more than there.
> 
> That's an awesome weapon. It should help mightily in the final battle.




It's not quite that simple - part of it is that he spends most of his time as an Annis Hag (I think it is) due to repeated Polymorphs from other characters.  

Does the sunblade double the total damage straight?


----------



## Eccles

SRD said:
			
		

> *Sun Blade:* This sword is the size of a bastard sword. However, a sun blade is wielded as if it were a short sword with respect to weight and ease of use. (In other words, the weapon appears to all viewers to be a bastard sword, and deals bastard sword damage, but the wielder feels and reacts as if the weapon were a short sword.) Any individual able to use either a bastard sword or a short sword with proficiency is proficient in the use of a sun blade. Likewise, Weapon Focus and Weapon Specialization in short sword and bastard sword apply equally, but the benefits of those feats do not stack.
> In normal combat, the glowing golden blade of the weapon is equal to a +2 bastard sword. Against evil creatures, its enhancement bonus is +4. Against Negative Energy Plane creatures or undead creatures, the sword deals double damage (and x3 on a critical hit instead of the usual x2).
> The blade also has a special sunlight power. Once per day, the wielder can swing the blade vigorously above her head while speaking a command word. The sunblade then sheds a bright yellow radiance that is like full daylight. The radiance begins shining in a 10-foot radius around the sword wielder and extends outward at 5 feet per round for 10 rounds thereafter, to create a globe of light with a 60-foot radius. When the wielder stops swinging, the radiance fades to a dim glow that persists for another minute before disappearing entirely. All sun blades are of good alignment, and any evil creature attempting to wield one gains one negative level. The negative level remains as long as the sword is in hand and disappears when the sword is no longer wielded. This negative level never results in actual level loss, but it cannot be overcome in any way (including restoration spells) while the sword is wielded.
> Moderate evocation; CL 10th; Craft Magic Arms and Armor, daylight, creator must be good; Price 50,335 gp; Cost 25,335 gp + 2,000 XP.




That answers that one. Yes - against the undead it does, anyway. You banned us from using splat-books; we've got to get our fun somewhere!


----------



## Eccles

Russ - question for you.

That prestige class I don't presently qualify for - I don't need feats to qualify for it, just need a few skills.

Would it be OK to re-jig my skill points (I've got 21 skill points in Sleight of Hand I've never used in 18 levels, for instance), so that I'd qualify for it next level?


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Russ - question for you.
> 
> That prestige class I don't presently qualify for - I don't need feats to qualify for it, just need a few skills.
> 
> Would it be OK to re-jig my skill points (I've got 21 skill points in Sleight of Hand I've never used in 18 levels, for instance), so that I'd qualify for it next level?




Yeah, no problem.  It's totally appropriate in-game, and there's a very good RP rationale for you to acquire it.


----------



## Eccles

Woo! Fear me at 19th level, when I supplement my terrifying 6th level bard spells with some equally awe-inspiring 4th level wizard spells!


----------



## Quartz

You're playing an Ultimate Magus?


----------



## Eccles

Nah - it's been straight bard all the way thus far. I may take a level in Sublime Chord for 19th since I've been given the option...


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Morrus said:
			
		

> Yeah, no problem.  It's totally appropriate in-game, and there's a very good RP rationale for you to acquire it.




TBH, if it starts to get too silly, then we could look at nerfing it down a bit?

Doubling is quite messy. Although doubling + power attack is only going to work on stuff with a cruddy AC...


----------



## Eccles

As we set off on our way tracing the route indicated by Janga’s magic, there was a shimmering in the air. Flanked by the almost spectral figure of Manzorian, Bob the tiny goblin archer was returned to us once again. The ghostly figure of Manzorian nodded once, and then was simply gone once again. Having re-united with him once again, we picked our way along the base of a cast rocky crag jutting from the canyon’s floor. At the pinnacle of the rock stood an exotic domed tower, with a black spire twisting over from behind it like a scorpion’s tail. 

Drawing a shortsword, Flynne shot upwards towards the tower, and after a minute or two waved us all to follow him. We all rose up under our own powers; Janga and Fez calling on the powers of winged boots, whilst I helped Bob fly up by pulling him up onto my mystical summoned horse.

At the top we could see that the polished obsidian of the tower was blocked up with a door of sorts – a plug of solid pink crystal. As I began to sort through my repertoire of spells, scrolls and enchanted items Janga pulled a short metal rod from his backpack and rang it. The pink crystal ground slowly into the floor and I packed my equipment away again as the gnome grinned at me.

.oOo.

Within was a simply decorated foyer whose walls were lined with paintings, statues and a lush carpet. The arched windows flooded the room with coloured light, although careful scrutiny showed that they were actually carefully modified walls of pure force. 

The room inside was pleasantly warm, and superb music filled the room; a talent which was so skilled that I was able to recognise it as from a ‘sublime chord’ – a skilled bard I had heard of only in legends. 

The massive double-doors opposite us were another massive slab of rose quartz, through which glimmers of light could be seen, but nothing moved beyond. As I looked around the room and examined the art, I could hear behind me the ringing of Janga’s _Chime of Opening_ and the grinding of the second pink crystal door as it sank into the floor. 

“Bugger,” shouted Flynne, and I could hear his bowstring stretching even as I turned around.

In front of me were four charging mounted figures, their horses hooves clattering strangely on the polished stone floor in the room beyond. The four were each styled after a different figure of lore – Death, War, Famine and Pestilence rode down upon us. 

With his bow already drawn, Flynne fired an arrow I could recognise as being made of cold iron from the colour of its fletchings. Raising a few sparks, the arrow glanced off the foe. He pulled a silver arrow out of his deep quiver and fired that; it sparked off almost exactly the same spot cracking away a small chip off his target. Bob produced a much smaller arrow cast from polished adamantine and fired it – missing.

A second shot sank deeply into the moving statue of War, and the goblin kept firing. The areas where his arrows struck left spiders-web cracks around the impact sites. Trying to help my comrades, I dashed away from the painting I had been examining, and cast a spell of hastening. Janga called forth a spell of his own and in a heartbeat the four figures were caught in a roaring pillar of flame. 

Which the moving statues simply ignored.

As Fez quaffed a potion and swelled to his familiar towering hag-form, he moved to block the wide doorway as best he could, but was not expecting them to rein in their horses and jab their heels into the creatures’ flanks. Each of the four horses opened their mouths wide and screamed. Vast cones of coloured light blasted out across my comrades and I, and I was too busy blinking away the light and leaping away from blasts of fire and venom which washed over me. When I could see once again, I realised that Bob was jerking in pain as lightning played across him, and Janga was completely static; a statue of  black basalt. 

There was also a soft thudding as one of the creatures – War – was charging across the thick carpet. As it closed, Fez’s sunblade arced out and carved a deep line along its flank. Shards of glass fell to the floor. As the glassy golem reached me, the ‘rider’ leaned down from its saddle and lashed at me with long jagged claws. I ducked away from several of its swings, but couldn’t avoid all of them and suffered a vicious slash across my chest for my troubles. 

Flynne was also cut by one of them, and dashed across the room firing as he dashed out of the door. Stepping out as well, Bob fired 5 accurate shots into ‘War’, and then I summoned up my knowledge of the mystic arts to project the weave into a scream.

Waves of sound crashed across the four crystalline golems, and they quivered and shook under the onslaught. Cracks and flakes of glass appeared amidst a series of shattering noises, and as I gasped to an end and dashed over to Janga, Fez stepped across the room and struck ‘War’ a single blow. The huge glass figure shattered into a million pieces across the floor, even as Fez continued to swing at the already cracked figure of Pestilence next to him.

The three remaining statues focussed on Fez in vain given his thick armour. At the same moment, from outside I could hear a burst of song which was followed by an explosion of fire which washed through the open doorway. It was followed by an imperious female voice which rang out “Intruders! How dare you?”

Flynne dashed back into the room away from the invisible voice and fired repeatedly – the statue form of Pestilence shattered into many thousands of pieces across the carpeted floor. Bob fired as well, and with my teeth gritted I dashed towards the centre of the room ready to try and counter any further spell-songs which might come from the as-yet-unseen sublime chord. 

From closer to him, I could see Fez wielding his sunblade with lethal efficiency; in a few powerful strikes he had smashed the Death-golem and was furiously hacking at the remaining one – Famine. It reacted by launching another spray of terrible colours and then hacking out at him leaving a series of bloody rents across his armour.

“Destroy those who invaded my sanctum without invitation,” yelled the unseen melodic voice. “That bastard liche sent you, didn’t he?”

I was suddenly aware that the sound of sunblade-on-glass had ceased. I spun round and could see Fez moving towards me with a blank look in his eyes.

“Guys,” I yelled to the others in sudden panic. “I don’t think Fez is quite himself…”

.oOo.

With a well-aimed shot, Bob shattered the Famine-golem, whilst I grabbed Janga’s stone body and cast a spell which transported us both in an instant away and down to the base of the spire. Hundreds of feet above me, I could hear yelling and two tiny bodies leapt into space from the top of the spire. As they plunged down towards me, I realised that they weren’t slowing down, and that a slightly larger form was leaping into space behind them.

When Flynne and Bob were a few dozen feet above the ground, I cast a rapid spell onto them and they slowed dramatically and touched lightly to the ground. A couple of seconds later, Fez fell silently from the sky and crashed to the floor behind them; his heavy annis-hag form leaving two deep foot-shaped craters in the stony ground. 

At the same moment, a glowing door opened in space, and I immediately flung a second spell onto the _Dimension Door_, which revealed the outline of a towering humanoid winged form.

“We mean you no harm,” I stammered out. “We merely seek to fulfil Balakarde’s legacy.”

“Liars,” came the bellowed reply. “You invaded my sanctum – you were sent by the liche!”

As she said this, she then burst into triumphal song, and in a flash Bob was wreathed in a shroud of colourless mists, and simply froze in place as he was dashing across to me.

Stepping up out of his crater, Fez stomped towards us; as he did so, he turned to the towering winged woman who floated in the air above us. “Mistress,” he intoned. “No liche sent us.”

I took over smoothly, and hastened to explain our story to her; as I did so I tried surreptitiously to ensnare Fez in my tale-telling so that I might slow his reactions should he decide to bring his sunblade down towards me. 

When I had finished, she turned to Fez and demanded imperiously,

“If this male has said a word which was untrue, strike his head from his shoulders.”

“Fez… Tell her I told you the truth, Fez…”

His eyes glazed a little further in confusion, then the barbarian turned to the sparkling figure. “He told the truth, mistress.”

“Excellent. Follow me, servant. You may follow once your comrades are freed.”

She cast another spell, and she and Fez stepped through a second glowing door in space. 

.oOo.

It took a few minutes to free both Bob and then sing Janga free of his ensnarement. Once we were all ready, we flew back up to the top of the spire and stepped over the glassy rubble into the inner part of the building. There, we could see Fez; restored to his 6 foot ‘normal’ form, wearing a small white apron and sweeping away a few shards of glass with a heavy broom. 

Reclining on a sofa was a phenomenally good looking celestial being, whose skin practically shone with an inner light. She beckoned us in with one languorous finger and then ordered Fez to pour us all tea, which he did from a delicate bone-china tea service. Once he had placed the tea set back on the table, she freed him with a gesture, and turned to explain to us.

“The liche Thesselar was once an admirer. He has a small fortress within the fissure. I spurned his advances years ago, and he has been… unfriendly.” 

Standing, she led us into her gallery, where huge stained glass windows shone down onto us. She gestured and they went clear as she pointed into the mists of the Wormcrawl Fissure. “I am an artist,” she continued, gesturing at the paintings and sculptures around the walls. Paintings of locations throughout the planes, Sigil next to the Infinite Staircase, Graz’zt beside Ehlonna, mixed with pictures of fearsome worm-eating visages and the like. 

Gesturing, she produced a small statuette from thin air – an 8 inch tall figure which was recognisably that of Balakarde.

“I will give you this, which you so clearly seek. If you will do a few small tasks for me. Firstly, destroy the liche Thesselar. Secondly, I would demand 8 works of you, then a good deal of money to recompense me for this item. Oh, and finally… The service of this lummox for one of your years.

Despite having been freed from the mind control spell, I could see Fez staring up at her towering figure, the thoughts clearly visible on his mind – here was the big woman of his dreams. 

As we turned to discuss matters in more depth, she made a further offer – to induct me into the secrets of the Sublime Chord…


----------



## Inconsequenti-AL

Think Fez is happy with his possible future there!

Just the small matters of Dragotha and Kyuss to deal with, I'm guessing - nothing to worry about there?


----------



## Eccles

In discussion with Zollchin the Sublime Chord, we learned that Thessellar dabbled with ‘experiments’ mixing magic and biology – in ages past he was the mage responsible for such abominations as the owlbear, the rust monster, the grick and the mimic. As she handed us a small painting of the liche, she explained that he had been utterly obsessed with her in the past. 

On her instructions, we picked our way carefully across the floor of the Wormcrawl Fissure, reaching the base of another towering mesa. A sliver-thin wall of stone spanned several hundred feet to connect the mesa to the edge of the fissure, dropping a lazy thousand feet to drop down into thick clouds where it joined the mesa top. Through glimpses in the cloud, we could see an almost organically shaped mass of red marble. 

As we closed in on it, I noticed that Fez looked rather nervous, and had managed to find a length of timber from somewhere and was hefting it rather than his usual array of enchanted weapons.

“Rust monsters,” was all he had to say when I raised an eyebrow at him.

.oOo.

We split up, leaving Bob and Flynne behind a short distance whilst Fez, Janga and I approached the fortress. Once close enough, we could dimly make out a pair of titanic draconic bodies with their heads replaced with a single toothy maw ringed with seven or eight long snapping mouth-tipped tentacles. The two writhed and snapped as they wound around one another.

Close enough, I decided and hailed the fortress. I pulled my lute from over my shoulder and sang a song of forgiveness and hidden curiosity, hoping to tempt the liche out of his castle, but after a full three minutes of singing, there was still silence. I turned to my companions and said loudly “I guess Thessellar doesn’t want to hear Zollchin’s message.”

I was then immediately drowned out by a towering voice from the fortress. “*WHO ARE YOU?*”

I bowed to the building, and announced that we were none other than J. Peasemold Gruntfuttock and associates, here representing the interests of one Zollchin who was interested in settling their difficulties. 

The voice simply laughed. “*MY PLANS ARE NEAR RESOLUTION – THERE WILL BE NO SETTLEMENT. PERHAPS, THOUGH, YOU COULD BE OF USE. I AM MOST WEALTHY, ALL I REQUIRE IS THAT… BITCH.*”

Declaring that we didn’t deal with faceless fortresses, we backed away, and as we went I muttered out of the corner of my mouth to my comrades. “Plan B, chaps.”

As I delivered an inspiring speech and then cast a spell of hastening to aid my comrades, I turned to see Bob and Flynne fire a massive volley of arrows through the air. Their shots soared with pinpoint accuracy over the walls and into the two draconic hydras. Fez joined in with a couple of heavy stones launched from his sling which sailed up and over the walls before dropping onto the leftmost hydra’s body with bone shattering force. 

Suddenly, the bridge we were on, several thousand feet of delicate stonework, erupted into flames which leapt 15 feet into the sky. We leapt away, finding clear spots within the inferno which rippled up and down the bridge, and only Bob was burned in the fires. 

At the same instant, a green beam lanced out of the air and burned deeply into Fez, who roared in pain as a clean hole, perhaps an inch in diameter, was burned straight through his shoulder. A second, darker, beam struck him in the chest, and he sagged with weakness.

As the portcullis grated open and the two dragon-hydras rushed out to meet us, Janga cast a powerful healing spell on Fez, who straightened considerably as the hole through his shoulder closed. Janga then clutched a powerful metamagic rod and then transported himself and the raging barbarian through space to stand near where the two spells had come from. 

As I dived off the ledge and activated my _boots of levitation_ to hang in the air, I pulled a scroll out of my bag and read it – summoning a thin wall of stone which blocked the healthier hydra from closing on us and left the wounded one still in sight. 

Flynne capitalised on this to fire a rapid salvo of shots, slaying the beast, whilst Bob fired through the air to where the liche had been – it had now moved. The little goblin stepped off the bridge to stand on its edge, protected from the flames by ignoring gravity. Flynne, meanwhile, relied on his phenomenal reactions, stepping between the roaring flames as they leapt around him. 

At that point, there was an unearthly wailing noise, and for the third time in my life, I died.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I think someone just failed a Fort save. Ouch.

High level combat is just _nasty_.


----------



## Eccles

Tallarn said:
			
		

> I think someone just failed a Fort save. Ouch.
> 
> High level combat is just _nasty_.




You got it. I've scrimped and saved to create my +5 Vest of Resistance. And have the +2 Fort Save feat. So for someone with a low Fort Save, +15 isn't actually all that bad. 

I needed a 14 on the dice, though. Which was just mean.

(Possibly not as bad as Janga's being petrified last session - he could only fail on a 1, which immediately turned up...)


----------



## Eccles

I just updated Evan in the other thread.

Need to reconsider all my equipment in light of a 500k haul we just got in a certain combat...


----------



## Eccles

Pieced together from my comrades’ tales after I was resurrected: 

.oOo.

As my body hung in space through the power of my _Boots of Levitation_, the remaining ‘Thessalhydra’ smashed through the stone wall I had summoned into existence with my scroll seconds earlier. Janga read from a scroll of his own and the cadaverous liche was forced to materialise on the far side of the bridge from my diminutive cleric companion and Fez. Screaming, the barbarian flew through the air and hacked into him; his swinging axe triggering some power of the liche and a protective ring of fire sprang up around him.

Flynne’s arrows streaked around Fez to smack home in the liche’s dusty flesh, and Bob’s joined an instant later, before the injured liche gestured and croaked out a spell, locking Fez into a cage of invisible force.

Janga was swift to react, teleporting into the box and then triggered the power of a mystical rod, allowing him to cast a second spell and drag them both out again through a dimensional rift, emerging near the Thessalhydra, which was swiftly slaughtered with Fez’s axe and Flynne’s many arrows. The liche had vanished. 

Whilst Janga enchanted Bob with the power to see the hidden, Fez was swift to snatch up the tiny goblin archer and fly up to the roof of the red stone fortress. Flynne followed on foot, prancing nimbly between the flames on the stone bridge. Janga swooped down (tiny wings on his boots flapping madly), to drag my floating body with him and pick through an array of items secreted in pouches, bags and pockets on me. Meanwhile, Fez was slashing at the tough stone roof with his adamantine sunblade, trying to get at the crunchy liche inside. Ineffectually, Bob tried to join in with his miniscule shortsword. 

Whilst Flynne took flight to join Janga hovering above the roof, there was a brief sensation of phenomenally powerful magic. The roof Fez and Bob were standing on had vanished, and they fell through into a mud-filled walled-off area below, boxed in between invisible walls and a glowing wall of palpable menace – they were trapped in this cage with a vast Thessalhydra, its eight toothy maws snatching out at them with vicious accuracy. It bit down on Bob, but he slipped free of it through the freeing power of a spell I had cast previously. 

The beast lowered its maw and bellowed, charging both Bob and Fez, and whilst they both slashed at it, they weren’t strong enough between them to stop it shoving them backwards through the glittering multi-coloured wall. 

They both emerged from the other side of the wall; whilst Bob was gibbering and slightly scorched, Fez was somehow almost entirely unharmed. 

.oOo.

Overhead, the other two yelled in alarm as the liche appeared between them, and Flynne was quick to react and fire repeatedly at the looming figure. Janga pulled a long staff from one of my enchanted bags, and triggered it, sending a beam of powerful light slamming into the liche which wailed in pain. 

The looming figure responded with another spell of its own, and Janga vanished. A second spell had no effect on Flynne at all.

.oOo.

In the fortress, Fez triggered a massively powerful enchantment from in a ring on his finger, and his form swelled and thickened into a towering balor. He tore the door off its hinges, and stalked into the room beyond, into a room which was clearly for experiments, including a tall glass vat of a flashing purple substance. Behind him, Bob giggled and staggered after him, his arrows glancing off Fez’s tough new-grown wing. 

Above, Flynne continued to hail the liche with enchanted arrows, and it responded with a gesture which made the armour-skinned elf simply vanish from all existence. 

Trapped by a heavy portcullis, Fez _changed_ again, becoming a massive black oozing creature which seeped its way through the portcullis into the outer courtyard. Behind him, Bob screamed and backed away. 

Overhead, the liche looked down at Fez and pointed; a ray slammed into him and boiled away a portion of his vitality and boiling away a number of his protective magics. Yelling in alarm, Fez-the-Pudding shifted and became Fez-the-balor, launching himself into the air and slashing at the liche, neatly severing its upper torso from its lower. 

.oOo.

Over the course of the next 20 minutes or so, the missing members of our party returned to the prime material plane, and Janga was quick to return me, gasping for breath, to life. We looted the body of the liche, and searched the entire fortress for the creature’s phylactery to no avail. The only unidentified thing we could find was the purple liquid within the vat. 

We all stood back, whilst Fez smashed the thing with his wooden club – as the liquid gushed out and engulfed him, he gasped in the near overwhelming power of the magics which wove around and through him; the club suddenly glowed so brightly in my magical eyesight that I had to snatch off my spectacles; we had located the third part of Balakarde’s tripartite soul.


----------



## Abciximab

"the caFlynnerous liche" 


I'm not familiar with this term, but it sounds just awful.

Gotta love "find and replace"...


----------



## Eccles

Abciximab said:
			
		

> "the caFlynnerous liche"
> 
> 
> I'm not familiar with this term, but it sounds just awful.
> 
> Gotta love "find and replace"...




That's twice I've fallen for 'caflynnerous'... Grrr...


----------



## Morrus

And in other news, tonight the party hit 20th level!


----------



## Colmarr

Eccles said:
			
		

> That's twice I've fallen for 'caflynnerous'... Grrr...




Most word processors have a "match case" option in their Find & Replace. Try turning it on.

Then it'll only pick up "Dave", not "dave".


----------



## Eccles

Colmarr said:
			
		

> Most word processors have a "match case" option in their Find & Replace. Try turning it on.
> 
> Then it'll only pick up "Dave", not "dave".




Fair point... We'll have to see if I remember it next time I've finished a session!

To my great shame, I'm a whole week behind (although that still leaves me about 52 weeks ahead of Piratecat!) Will try and catch up at some stage!


----------



## Colmarr

No problem. Hopefully it'll help   

I know it's not easy to write this much text, so I thought I'd try to make it just a little bit easier for you...


----------



## Eccles

Flushed with success, we rejoined Zollchin, who thanked us profusely for our assistance in ridding her of the liche. We handed her the dust-flecked robe from the liche’s back as both proof of his death and in payment of the ‘money’ portion of our bargain with her. In order to repay the next, I sang songs for her entertainment. I sang until my throat was hoarse, at which point she tossed me a healing draught and began to join me in duet.

We sang together for hours, and when she was satisfied she had reached the limits of my talents and understanding, she began to offer suggestions; my mind reeled at her suggestions which crossed beyond simple techniques with instruments and into the realms of magic and understanding of concepts which I had never considered before. Previously impossible leaps of potential opened up before me, and I sang all the more eagerly at the thought of what she had showed me.

.oOo.

The next morning, we met once again in her studio, and she passed the statuette of Balakarde to me; I was shocked at the surge of power and confidence which I felt as the clay miniature was passed to me. And I could feel a strange urge to hold it out to my comrades; I could hear a secret voice from Balakarde to touch the three artefacts together – looking at my comrades I could tell that they could hear it too. Almost woodenly we each held out the three items; the statue touched the pouch, which nudged against the heavy length of two-by-four. 

Stillness settled across the room and the air felt heavy – with a flash the ghostly figure of a man materialised amongst us; Balakarde looked gratefully at us and he spoke – his voice entering my mind without being aware of actually hearing it. 

“Thank you for reuniting the three shards of my spirit. Since Dragotha broke my soul, I have suffered in torment.”

“Wait,” interrupted Fez. “You’ve fought the dragon?”

“I tried,” the spirit shook his head ruefully. “He was too much for me. If you intend to combat him, however, I will be with you. He is a mighty dragon – perhaps the greatest in this world.

“Although Kyuss resurrected him, you should know that the power used to do so was such that he doesn’t have the traditional weaknesses that you might expect of ‘normal’ undead. Dragotha is not ‘normal’ in any meaning of the word – you should prepare as though you are fighting a most puissant dragon, not a liche. 

“He has two different forms of breath weapon – a searing fire which is particularly strong and will cling to its targets like glue, whilst the second is an unholy breath of darkness. When I encountered him, he used the second, and whilst my spirit was still quaking he simply tore me apart with his claws. 

“There is one other thing which you should know,” continued the ghost. “Beyond, of course, that Dragotha will have the greatest collection of treasures ever amassed on this realm. When I was there, there was a second dragon with him – a silver one, who clearly laired with him. The two were allies, yet she harboured resentment towards him and his position.

“When you are ready, I can take you to him. My soul is bound to his and I would be able to penetrate the mystical boundaries which surround his lair.” With a knowing smile, the spirit faded; waiting to be called.

.oOo.

The next two days were spent preparing our spells and teleporting back and forth to Mage Point, where a good deal of loot was sold and bartered for – once we were as ready as we could be, we touched the three artefacts together once again, and nodded to the ghost.

“We’re ready.”

.oOo.

The ghost’s magic left us blinking away a bright light, and Balakarde faded away with the light. We found ourselves at the top of a vast, seemingly bottomless shaft. A passageway led away from us, sloping upwards and leaking a trail of thick green fluid down into the shaft. 

Some unseen magic was holding us up in the air and allowed us to swim over to the entrance – there we all triggered various items to allow us to fly ourselves and steer clear of the green mess and also the green ‘marble’ walls and floor of the tunnel. The stones glistened with magic and were semi-transparent – within them wriggled thousands of tiny Kyuss-worms. 

Ahead, up the smooth green and glistening tube, we could see worms wriggling along and within the walls. They formed clumps in darkened corners and dripped revoltingly from the ceiling. 

Ducking in between them all, Flynne led the way. Drinking a potion, he flew along the corridor before pausing thoughtfully next to an almost indistinguishable portion of the wall. Scratching it with an arrow, the line he etched along the wall was filled rapidly with writhing worms which solidified and hardened to become one with the marble. 

Frustrated, Flynne bashed at the wall with the arrowhead. “There’s a way through here, I can almost smell it,” he snarled. My attempts to blast open the door with a spell of sound failed, and when Janga raised his holy symbol and concentrated, he yelled in pain and shock. Fez’s direct approach was more successful – he hacked at it with his flail, tearing massive gashes in the wall and sending chips of stone raining through the corridor. The chips fell to the ground, became worms and began to crawl towards the doorway to re-fill it, but the job was done. We stepped through and into a rocky corridor beyond. The corridor led to a dilapidated though once well-decorated chamber with relatively few worms. Similar rooms lay beyond, one of which contained a broken shrine to Kyuss – hundreds of worms stitched together into a humanoid shape. 

Finding no other exits and nothing beyond a few large tarnished silver scales, we smashed our way back through the re-sealed wall into the green tube-like corridor. 

.oOo.

A few dozen yards further down, Flynne poised and pointed at another stretch of wall. “Here,” he announced and looked back at Fez. Grinning, the barbarian set to this stretch of wall with glee, and we soon found ourselves stepping through the crawling ‘rubble’. 

Beyond lay a small chamber containing only a 3 foot high font filled with water. Careful scrutiny of it suggested not only considerable magic, but also something I could only interpret as a rather sinister looking curse, and so we moved down the corridor to the end, where Flynne nodded, and Fez started smashing his way through.

.oOo.

We crashed through the worm-door into a vast cavern, one side of which was dominated by a vast green stone ziggurat, from the broken top of which gushed the green liquid which could me seen running down the tube-like corridor. 

On the far side of the cavern lay a truly obscene pile of treasure, almost entirely covered by the vast sprawling figure of Dragotha.

“Oh Fahrlanghan.”
“We’re not ready.”
“Should we run?” 
“Door’s already rebuilding itself…”
“We’d better get ready pretty fast, then.”

The dracoliche roared – the sounds blasted over us and buffeted us against the walls. So might was the roar that Janga was left literally dazed by it.

Fez leapt into action. He triggered the spells cast into his magical ring and turned into a truly enormous balor, bellowing back at the gigantic dragon as he flew to the top of the ziggurat. 

Also taking to the air, Flynne flew up high and shot downwards, but the arrows simply shattered on the dragon’s massive scaled plates. The dragon’s skin stretched taut a it inhaled, and then breathed a tremendous blast of dark winds over us. The negative powers of the breath passed us by with the layers of protection we had set up. The rotting breath threw Flynne and Janga backwards, and they both fought to stay upright. A ring on my right had I had been wearing for months glowed faintly as the blowing gale passed me by like a light summer’s breeze. 

The dragon’s head whipped around and glared at Fez even as he was closing in. The barbarian simply froze in the air and dropped down onto the worm-crawling surface of the ziggurat. 

Pulling a scroll from my belt, I read it aloud, and instantly I felt time slow and then stop. I snatched a series of other items from pouches. Another scroll to protect myself from invasive mental spells, then two spells from a third which freed Fez from his entrapment and summoned a nearly invisible wall of force between the dragon and us. Finally, I used a staff to summon a large hand which I sent soaring towards the dracoliche. It struck the dragon’s 140 foot form square in the centre of its chest, and heaved vainly for a few moments; not so much as an inch of movement came from its vast body.

As time rushed back in, Fez charged forwards to hang in the air above the wall of force. His sunblade slashed into the dracoliche, but there was no familiar burst of sunlight. As Balakarde had indicated, Dragotha had all of the advantages, but none of the disadvantages, of the undead form. 

Still shooting, Flynne hurtled up to the ceiling of the cavern, and the dragon slashed down repeatedly on Fez’s huge demon-like body. He stiffened once again, and fell from the sky suffering from wounds which would’ve killed a lesser (or less-enchanted) mortal. 

The dragon’s head swivelled, and fire raged over Flynne, lighting the cavern from above like a vast sinister screaming torch – the dragon’s breath didn’t go out but stuck to him and kept burning, as Flynne carried on yelling in alarm as his mystical protections began to boil away.

Heaving another scroll from my belt, I read and gestured, and the flames wreathed around Flynne abruptly went out, and Janga leapt forwards to cure Fez’s wounds. Clutching a rod which let him cast a second spell rapidly, he also tried to dispel any protections around Dragotha, but we couldn’t see any obvious effect. 

From the dracoliche’s feet, Fez hacked down hard, but only one blow penetrated the scales to scratch down the dragon’s hide, whilst overhead a rain of arrows shattered on scales as big as shields.

The dragon snarled out a word, and blurred before exploding outwards into 6 identical mirror images, all of which lashed out at Fez, who was frozen once more in place. 

I changed my plan and sent the hand to dive into the vast heap of treasures, where it snatched up a bow and threw it up to Flynne overhead. As he grabbed it out of the air, we could all head the bow scream aloud “Fire me!”. 

“Get knotted,” snarled Flynne as he stuffed the longbow into a deep sack, whilst I sang an enthusing song to help my comrades strike harder and deeper. Snatching up yet another item from a collection slung about my person, I cast a spell of _hastening_, whilst Janga flew across to both heal and enchant Fez once again, and this time he burst into action, lashing out around himself and destroying images left and right. When he paused, there were only two Dragothas still towering over him, and one of those was punctured by Flynne’s arrows – the others sailed into the dracoliche’s chestplates where they shattered once more. 

Looking down, the dracoliche snarled out the words of a spell, locking him within a cage of force before slithering across his massive pile of treasure, sending a shower of gold and gems around himself as he dashed the length of the cavern to emerge from behind the wall of force I had erected to stop him advancing. 

When the dragon stopped to turn on us, I hastened to drop a spell of silencing on his new location, whilst continuing my songs of enhancement. The glittering hand dropped another magical item (a gem encrusted drinking horn) to me, before diving back into the treasure pile, and then Janga’s second spell of disenchantment took hold, stripping away a large number of the dragon’s protective spells. 

Calling on his magic ring once again, Fez opened a dimensional door and stepped out into the air near Dragotha, whilst Flynne dropped from the sky to be near my enchantments, shooting accurately enough now to find gaps in Dragotha’s less-protected form. 

Spitting flames at Flynne once again, the dragon also slashed down repeatedly on Fez. Once again, Flynne erupted in fire which simply would not go out. 

I threw my _Rod of Quickening_ to Janga, whilst singing yet another song of enhancement to safeguard Flynne and I, and Janga began casting a powerful summoning spell. 

The two warriors fought to their utmost, now that the dragon’s protective magics had failed. Flynne’s arrows slammed into the dragon’s flesh whilst Fez slashed heavily into the beast’s flanks. The beast began to edge out of the silent area, and lashed out at Fez once more, clawing and biting him in a frenzy of violence, lit by the flickering light of the still-burning archer. As he attacked, the dragon’s eyes blazed and his mouth opened in rage.

Once again, I began to feel an urge to touch my Balakarde artefact to the others, and I snatched the statuette from my belt and flung it to Janga, whilst pulling a scroll from a pouch. I read this hoping that it would further enthuse my comrades, but the complex _prayer_ had no effect in this temple to Kyuss. 

Still flying overhead, Janga dived in clutching the two artefacts, and chanted out a healing spell to revitalise Fez’s flagging form, and then the barbarian spun to touch his length of tremendously potent two-by-four to the pouch and statuette – I could see the burst of magical potency erupting from them as they all touched, and soul energy swirled around and was absorbed into Fez and Janga, and the barbarian’s huge balor form turned on the dragon baring his pointed teeth and huge fangs.

“Right, you bastard,” he bellowed at it.

As Dragotha took to the air, Fez delivered a vicious overhand slash cutting deeply into the dracoliche’s stomach. The beast bellowed in anger, and abruptly its rage was gone. Staring down coldly at us, the dragon blasted a tremendously powerful spell of negative energy down, followed by a cone of fire which lashed over all of my comrades.

Due to careful preparations, neither had any effect whatsoever. 

I dived through the air to grab Fez by one horned wingtip, and tore a rift in space across the few yards to be close enough to attack the dragon without having to close first; at the same time Janga cast another powerful restorative spell, this time on Flynne just around the other side of the dracoliche. 

Without having to worry about closing, Fez brought his sunblade down again and again, making more progress now that the dragon was greatly reduced and all of our potent spells of improvement were up and running. Three solid hits cracked deeply into and through one of the heavy armoured plates, which had no more effect than merely irritating the dragon. 

Healed now, and still ignoring the inferno of dragonbreath which was clinging to him, Flynne carried on firing, whilst Fez carried on hacking; tearing off one plate. A dark green glow erupted from the dracoliche’s torso, and the beast’s wounds closed somewhat; the armoured plate growing anew to appear soft and more pliable compared to the aeons old armoured plates alongside it. The dragon again pulled away from us.

The glowing magical hand I had summoned snatched up a wooden box and dropped it into my arms, and I pulled 3 talismans from it, activating it in the hope that it might aid us in out time of need. It failed, and became phenomenally heavy. I then grabbed Fez and pulled him through another rift in space to confront the dragon. As I was doing so, an elder earth elemental summoned by Janga fell from the ceiling, smashed into Dragotha’s back and fell to the floor, having absolutely no effect whatsoever. Another spell from Janga failed, and he flew into the air to flank the beast.

This enabled Fez to hack down with abandon, unleashing his full fury – he hacked down again and again with his sunblade undoing the dragon’s healing spell in an instant. At the same time, Flynne dropped to the floor and rolled around, putting out the flames.

The dracoliche, concerned now, flung a powerful blast of antimagic straight at Fez, but he raised one hand on which was mounted a glowing ring which simply absorbed the spell . Taking another punishing blow as he did so, Dragotha flew away once more, and I followed again, dragging Fez through the dimensions in pursuit as the enchanted hand dipped into the treasure pile and flew over, showering me in gems and precious items. 

Janga covered the dracoliche’s head in another globe of silence, and Fez lashed out again and again and again, leaving massive slash wounds in the undead flesh. Flynne joined in once again, speckling the dragon’s armoured hide with powerful arrows, but I was not quick enough to avoid Dragotha’s counter-attack. The huge toothy maw snapped down on my neck, and all went black; no sooner had I begun to feel everything going black than it all snapped back into sharp focus as Janga used a scroll to heal both myself and Fez.

Grinning, Fez ripped a lightning shaped blade from behind his back, and struck down. Three blows fell, each to the same spot on Dragotha’s neck, and the head fell clean of the body.

Dragotha, lieutenant to Kyuss for aeons, roared in disbelief and collapsed to the floor in an eruption of grave dust and rapidly decaying bones. A burst of energy flew from the artefacts, and coalesced into Balakarde’s ghostly form. He nodded to us each in turn, and spoke only three words.

“Find… the… monolith.”

His spiritual essence burst apart, and divided into four separate segments which floated in front of each of us in the form of spinning gold coins. As if in a dream, we each reached out and grabbed the coins, which disappeared leaving us all feeling enriched.

.oOo.

Over the next hour, we became much more enriched as we engaged in a positive orgy of looting and wealth.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Huzzah!

Sounds like a hell of a fight! I'm wondering just how many one-shot items and emergencies got used up in all of that?


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Hell of a fight, no doubt. 

By the way, how does your group deal with buying/selling loads of magic items, Eccles? In my games that part is always slow and dull  :\


----------



## Morrus

Cerulean_Wings said:
			
		

> Hell of a fight, no doubt.
> 
> By the way, how does your group deal with buying/selling loads of magic items, Eccles? In my games that part is always slow and dull  :\




The moment I hear a player slip in that dread word "shopping", I immediately know that a full half of my evening is destined to be sat there bored senseless while they buy/sell/upgrade/craft etc.  I can't stand that aspect of D&D.


----------



## killjoy68116

Did I miss something, is Endo no longer playing?   :\


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Morrus said:
			
		

> The moment I hear a player slip in that dread word "shopping", I immediately know that a full half of my evening is destined to be sat there bored senseless while they buy/sell/upgrade/craft etc.  I can't stand that aspect of D&D.




Hopefully that'll be one of the promised improvements of 4e that really works.

I'm imagining I might put into place the idea that players can get upgrades to their stats directly as part of levelling, rather than worrying about magical items so much. It's something that's been talked about and I really like the sound of it.

My perfect 'adventuring equipment list' has always been 1 weapon, 1 armour, 1 misc - the rest gets a bit much.


----------



## Morrus

killjoy68116 said:
			
		

> Did I miss something, is Endo no longer playing?   :\




Nah, he hasn't been around for a while now.


----------



## Eccles

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Huzzah!
> 
> Sounds like a hell of a fight! I'm wondering just how many one-shot items and emergencies got used up in all of that?




I think I burned up:
5 charges of staff to get the crushing hand spell (fat lot of good that was)
A talisman of Zagyg we snaffled out of the hoard. Rolled badly to get a pricey stone of weight.
Scrolls - Time Stop, Mind Blank, Prayer, Quench, Wall of Force
Flask of worm repellent we found about 6 whole adventures ago.

I think Janga used about 2 Mass Heal scrolls and a Heal one as well. Not to mention the 5 or 6 charges from the Staff of Death Ward we got the other week.

And Fez discharged the 25th (!) level casting of Shapechange he had loaded into his ring of spell storing.

And Janga and I exhausted 2 Rods of quickening.



			
				Cerulean_Wings said:
			
		

> Hell of a fight, no doubt.
> 
> By the way, how does your group deal with buying/selling loads of magic items, Eccles? In my games that part is always slow and dull




I think shopping's always a frustration for DMs. I try to help out by looking up prices and doing the maths for sales whilst something else is going on, and then just telling the others that they've got x to spend, but other than doing it out of game, there's no way of avoiding it.

To be honest, I've got a pretty good idea of the next 3 or 4 20-40k items I want to lay my hands on. This last shopping trip I got bored and just bought a _Lyre of Building_ for the heck of it...


----------



## Eccles

..then I realised what I could do with the _Lyre of Building_. Believe me, I'm going to be trying to build useless edifices everywhere I go from here on in...


----------



## killjoy68116

Well the rest of the party seems to being doing alright even without their necro- I mean mage.

I return now to the shadows, from whence I came.


----------



## Eccles

We swept towering piles of gold, platinum, jewellery and gemstones into the _Portable Hole_ we had captured from the liche, whilst fishing interesting looking objects from the drifts of treasure. Flynne made sure to pick up anything looking remotely like bow, arrow or quiver, whilst Fez leapt onto an enormous jagged-looking axe. Janga and I took pieces of armour, and I idly picked up any useful-looking item to go into a more accessible bag rather than the time-consuming deeps of the _Hole_.

As we swept treasure into the hole, there was a muffled yell of alarm. We paused, and from the darkness of the hole came more shouts for help. “Lower a rope!”

We did, and to our alarm learned that Bob had fallen into the hole and had been living in there on his few trail rations and a couple of loose Elixirs of Truth for the better part of a week. We dragged him out and carried on cherry-picking enchanted items from the vast array of treasure.

One of these items was a small cube of adamantine, which I scrutinised before triggering, tossing it into an open area where the vast spills of treasure had previously laid. It erupted, unfolding upwards and outwards to form a solid tower easily 20 feet in height. Grinning, I pulled an enchanted lyre from over my shoulder and played for a while, the powers of the magical instrument gently dismantled the huge stones of the towering ziggurat, moving the stones to form solid walls which ringed around us, protecting us all the more from whatever else might be waiting to assault us in this temple devoted to Kyuss. 

.oOo.

The next morning, refreshed and prepared, we ate a hearty magical breakfast summoned by Janga, and set out, dismantling the adamantine fortress as we did so. As we left, Janga cast another powerful spell to try to lead us to the way out, but with a flash of magic, Kyuss’ powers shattered his spell.

We picked our way back up to the vastly deep shaft. It was 20 feet wide, and we could see the ceiling a short distance above us, but couldn’t see the ground beneath. Fez lit a torch and dropped it. It stayed exactly where it was. As I cast a spell which changed him into the lumbering form of a troll, he stepped out next to the still-burning torch, and jumped up and down on apparently solid air. After a few moments, he squinted with concentration, and began to gently sink away. We hastened to follow suit, willing ourselves to drop gently into the inky blackness.

We dropped gently as the shaft widened past hundreds of alcoves in the walls, filled with the desiccated remains of worm-riddled creatures. We sank further, having travelled at least 1000 feet straight down. The shaft carried on down and continued to widen, and the alcoves grew larger – some of these began to be empty, and as we continued to drop then almost all of them were. 

We kept sinking, and eventually we began to glimpse a green glow far beneath us, which became more prominent as we closed on it. Dropping 500 more feet, we reached the bottom of the vast shaft, which emerged into a positively tremendous cavern, so wide that I couldn’t see any edge of it. The ‘ground’, some 50 feet beneath my feet, was a truly vast ocean of writhing worms, billions upon billions of them, which writhed over one another, small, large, and then truly tremendous – some worms reached fifty or sixty feet in length, which swam like leviathans amongst their smaller brethren idly swallowing them like basking whales.

We hung in the air over this sea of despair and decay, and prepared as best we could. I cast spells of freedom on my comrades, and Fez (looking like a green-skinned vast version of Endo due to a _Hat of Disguise_ he was wearing), dropped into the cavernous chamber. He explored for a few moments, and then returned shaking his head.

“Couldn’t see a way out,” he explained. “Too far to the edge. Also, one of those big worms kinda tried to eat me. It was real big…”

I was a bit concerned how an illusion-covered troll-formed resized barbarian halfling could pale and look quite so nervous at the writhing ocean beneath us. 

.oOo.

I spent a few minutes casting more spells, calling several enchanted horses into existence which we could ride at tremendous speed. We took off and hurtled over the worm-sea. The ceiling sloped gently downwards, and as we ate up the distance we found ourselves being pushed down towards the surface. Some of the larger worms started to move to watch us, trying vaguely to keep up with our massive speed. 

As we dropped a little closer, they began to writhe up and snap at us. We had travelled perhaps three quarters of a mile in less than a minute, and one particularly vast specimen leapt out of the worm-sea and its vast teeth snapped within inches of our spiritual horses. 

Without saying a word, we all wheeled around and hurtled back to the entrance, and rode upwards to the massive empty alcoves.

“Maybe we’ll look for another way out,” I said, voicing what we were all thinking.


----------



## Eccles

killjoy68116 said:
			
		

> Well the rest of the party seems to being doing alright even without their necro- I mean mage.
> 
> I return now to the shadows, from whence I came.




If you happen to see Endo in there, give him our best!

To be honest, we've been staggered the party's still working without him. Taking on Dragotha was a terrifying combination of us being underprepared and him being ready - desperately trying to hold him off whilst we stripped off his powers and layered on the buffs as quickly as possible. 

Endo adds a good deal to that whole process. It's all a bit crazy. Come back, Endo, we need you!

(Although we've got Bob back now, and there's a chance we've fallen over another player in the meantime - could get up to a 7 man party, which would get a bit crazy with +4/+4 Inspire Courage going on!)


----------



## killjoy68116

guys? you out there? it's so lonely here, lurking in the darkness with out you...


----------



## Eccles

killjoy68116 said:
			
		

> guys? you out there? it's so lonely here, lurking in the darkness with out you...




Yeah. I'm suffering typist's guilt at the moment... We've missed a couple of sessions, but I've still got a week and half's notes to catch up with. I've been a bit remiss, and you have my apologies.

(Though I'm not sure how much typing I'm going to get done before wednesday with the in-laws here to visit!)


----------



## killjoy68116

in-laws? Then by all means, rest-up you'll need all your spells... I usually just spread out my caltrops, cast alarm and pray for quick encounter.


----------



## carborundum

killjoy68116 said:
			
		

> I usually just spread out my caltrops...




ROFL! Just imagined trying that one myself - yikes!


----------



## Eccles

From a position of relative safety astride an illusionary horse some 200 feet above the sea of grotesque worms, I cast a spell of discovery, learning that we were suspended above “a sea of worms that is as great in size as the very depths of Kyuss’ black soul”. 

“That can’t be good,” announced Flynne. The rest of us nodded despondently. 

.oOo.

Agreeing as a group to explore elsewhere, we hurtled up a thousand feet and searched around in some of the empty portal spaces and behind some of the tremendous statues, before Flynne called out, “Ahah!”

We dashed over to see him sweeping dark dust off yet another of the terrible crawling worm-doors, which Fez rapidly tore open. 

Beyond lay a warm, carpeted chamber lined with padded chairs and a vast shelf of oversized slab-like books. Crumbs littered the desk, which was flanked by two more of the crawling and insidious worm-doors. 

We battered through the left-hand worm-door, and then a second at the end of a 10 foot corridor, into a domed stone-lined chamber lined with crawling worms. A series of tall windows was on the far wall, whilst in front of them was a single hole in the floor above which was suspended a large cylindrical cage. Leading out of the large room was a massive set of double doors and, on the other side of the chamber, another normal sized door. 

Looking through the huge window, we could see a green glow emanating from a large pit in a room which lay beyond; a vast room which seemed to wrap around the room we were standing in. The hole in the floor, meanwhile, seemed to drop some 500 feet into yet another green glowing area. 

Drawing straws, we turned to the larger set of doors, and Fez hacked a decent sized hole through it. On the other side, as the door re-formed behind us, we found ourselves in a hallway – the walls and floor shimmered with a green light whilst ahead we could see a door off to the left, and beyond a set of stairs led down and to the right. 

We spent a little while inspecting the stairwell and landing, and eventually Flynne set off a short way ahead of the rest of us. As he went, we noticed that he had begun to scratch at his neck, then shrieked and dashed back to us. As he ran back down the corridor we could see that somehow he was now covered in worms.

Just like that, the illusion was broken, and we could see that the corridor ahead was littered with worms which fell in a constant rain from the ceiling. The tiny creatures fell to the floor where they simply merged into the solid blocks underfoot.

Nervously, we backed away until our backs were almost against the vast writhing double worm-doors, at which point, still glancing over our shoulders, we hacked our way back through them and back into the large room, and then carried on through the single door on the far side. 

This led into a curving passage which wound tightly into a smaller domed cavern which held a 5 foot wide hole in the ceiling, with a strangely constant draft of air pushing up through this gap. Flynne stepped forwards, and rose slowly up into the shaft and out of sight.

A moment later, he plummeted back down again muttering something about “the eyes”, and shudderingly refused to talk any more about his experiences any further.

We retreated. Again.

.oOo.

Having picked our way all the way back to the carpeted study, we slashed through the other door leading out of that room. This found us in a silk-lined bedroom, the vast bed littered with dozens of pillows. Flynne became fascinated with a section of the wood-panelled wall behind the bed, which eventually he managed to tease aside to lead into a small niche in which lay a halfling sized coffin. On a small shelf set into the way were 4 items; a pair of earrings, an anklet, a ring and a necklace.

Flynne listened carefully at the coffin, and then shook his head. Fez produced his sunblade and swung it over his head producing a tremendous blazing light as Flynne pulled open the coffin lid. 

It was empty.

Flynne swept the few items into a bag as we left the niche and headed back to the room with the tall windows overlooking the much larger chamber.

Fez made short work of the glass, and we leapt through into the chamber beyond. It was truly immense – the roof was an easy 70 feet above us, and the floor was a series of immense shelves. A stone pillar rose through the centre of the room, which seemed to be the setting for the hole in the floor in the room above us. At the base of the pillar was a tremendous pile of treasure, lit by the green glow from a large pit to one side. 

Standing a short distance away from the treasure, Janga activated a ring, and a magical rod rose from the heap of riches. 

Instantly, a 40 foot long wormlike behemoth burst from the but, born aloft by 4 wings and with a stretching neck topped by a spiked and horned dragon-like head. 

Bob started firing, but Flynne hesitated and looked at me; I sang and cast a spell before leaping away from the pit, which enthused Flynne to fire all the more quickly as Fez dashed forwards. The vast beast bit him, and Fez brushed worms off his troll-hide. As he struck the creature, it vomited forth a vast number of biting worms, which covered us and tore into our flesh; striking Fez and Janga with the majority of them and they both yelled as they were positively covered in the tiny green monstrosities.

A spell came from the beast, which simply bounced off his layered magical protections, and then Janga cast a healing spell of his own, and worms fell from us all in droves, killed instantly with his magic.

Bob started firing once again, and his tiny enchanted arrows blasted into the creature, and Flynne’s arrows slammed home alongside them. I produced a magical staff and blasted at the monster with lightning, which cracked off its hide to no effect whatsoever. Fez’s axe slashes were far more lethal, however, leaving huge rents in the beast’s flank. The creature responded with a phenomenally cold burst of acid, which every single one of us leapt aside from and avoided. The beast then roared, and two massive coiled frost-worms erupted from the floor, breathing at Flynne who was caught between them, only ten feet from me. He tried to leap aside, but was caught in the frost from one of the towering creatures, icing over one side of his body. 

Janga yelled out the words of a spell, and both the frost worms and Flynne were caught; Flynne sheltered between their vast coils, but the two massive worms shrieked in pain.

Bob continued to hail shots from his small bow onto the dragon-thing, and I backed away, calling forth a fireball from the _Staff of the Magi_ I was carrying. The two massive worms shrieked once again, and turned abruptly to ice and exploded, sending shards of ice in all directions, which scythed across several of us. 

Fez and Flynne continued to hack and fire away at the draconic monster, which responded by blasting away several of Fez’s enchantments and spells with a form of anti-magic, and then a second spell failed to affect him. 

Janga called on a ring of slashing blades, which encircled the monster, and as I sung another enthusing anthem, Flynne shot another hideously accurate salvo and Fez hacked downwards. The creature was suffering from prodigious injuries by this point, we could see several of its still-pulsating organs through the massive holes in its flesh. And yet, somehow, it still stood and continued to assault us. 

This time, it used yet another magical power, draining away Fez’s life energies with a black draining magic, and he wailed in pain and loss. The beast followed this up with a blast of cold and acid straight up at the barbarian, who was still shaking from the _energy drain_. The beast’s powerful breath seared into him, and he was hurt badly, and drained so much that he was clearly unable to dodge the creature’s further attacks. 

The beast moved, standing amidst the lashing blades and was completely unaffected by them. 

Thinking quickly, Janga teleported in a flash to join Fez and cast a spell to ward him from further death effects, and I tried to assist by singing another song to wreathe him with protective enhancements. He was confident enough to hack down again, rather more shakily than before, but the assault was bolstered by Bob and Flynne’s accurate shooting – but all it seemed to do was crash into the beast. It had taken such hideous injuries that it should have fallen, but was still hacking down at us. 

The monstrosity then took to the air and flew straight at Flynne, whislt blasting another dispelling magic at Fez – only the barbarian’s flight spell failed, and he began to float downwards towards the pit the beast had come from. 

Janga healed Fez’s injuries as he began to sink, but then turned on a hunch to use his _telekinesis ring_ to pull a couple of items from the massive pile of treasure. 

The massive beast bellowed in anger, suddenly looking somehow concerned at this tactic, and I leapt to join in; triggering another power of the _Staff of the Magi_ I hauled a strange egg-shaped object from the massive pile, and the beast’s head whipped around to track it. 

“I think it wants this,” I bellowed to the others. Within a heartbeat, a huge axe, four arrows and  a thrown light mace had all thudded into the still-levitating egg, behind me the beast wailed and crashed to the ground, dead in an instant.


----------



## Eccles

Eeep! You were possibly going to get some updatedness this evening, but it all went a bit mad.

A surprise visit from my parents precipitated an hour's tidying up and more cooking than I'd anticipated.

After the parents had left again, the tidying up precipitated a good 40 minutes of "where the heck did I put the notebook with all my campaign notes in it?"

Found it. I was alarmingly close to trying to make up a session and a half of progress...

Anyway - hopefully something for you tomorrow evening.


----------



## Eccles

As we stood gathering the immense riches from the draconic monster, there was a sudden sense of stillness which came across me, and then there came a voice in my mind.

“Less than 6 hours until Kyuss emerges. Meet me at Mage Point. Urgent.” It was Manzorian using a spell of _sending_, and I responded as truthfully as I could. “Coming. Got to get out of the late Dragotha’s lair. On foot. A bit stuck.”

We backed up to the worm-dripping corridor, and I used an illusion spell to project a version of myself up into the dripping mess at the point of the stairs; I was able to see through the eyes of the image, and then from there find a point to teleport us all.

After the flash of magic, we found ourselves in yet another massive hall with a polished stone floor. The walls were lined with 19 alcoves, each of which contained a glowing golden portal. Much of the western wall was taken up with a towering 15 foot tall fountain which gushed with green liquid, topped with a ten foot tall statue of a strange worm-like man. To the east stood a truly colossal 20 foot wide door made up of writhing and crawling worms. 

Flynne pranced across the reflective floor to the huge door and beckoned Fez over; we all went across to join him, and once close to the wall, Janga cast a spell which wreathed us all in a multicoloured ball of light. The small area of the worm-door quivered, and then collapsed to the floor. We stepped gingerly over them, and Janga let the spell fade – as the huge door re-assembled, we found ourselves on the outside.

We were standing in an immense volcano-crater, the base and walls of the vast expanse lined with thick slime and phosphorescent fungi. A huge slimy lake rippled eerily ahead of us, clearly filled with worms and various sinister and crusty masses. Behind us was a vast natural fortress.

We were out.

.oOo.

Suddenly, from the thick fog overhead came a shriek. A figure dove into sight – a humanoid clutching a glowing trident mounted on a wyvern.

It stretched out its left hand and a bolt of eldritch energy lanced down to sap Janga of some of his life force. 

Fez (recently healed of his many ailments by the powers of Fahrlanghan), bellowed back up at the creature and hurtled upwards, his hands hovering over a huge selection of weapons he was now carrying before selecting a heavy (and heavily enchanted) axe. As he went, I sang and cast a hastening spell, and then Janga cast a spell in turn. The mounted rider above us then flung a different bolt – a pale white energy struck Fez for no obvious effect whatsoever. 

As the wyvern circled overhead, Flynne began to pepper it with arrows, but to his immense annoyance some of them either passed through or simply missed the distant target. I produced the _Staff of the Magi_ once again, and started to activate one of its greater powers. Fez, meanwhile, hurtled upwards with the powers of his _Boots of Flying_ and Janga cast one of his spells to try and reave away any magics on the wyvern’s rider. Nothing seemed to happen.

The wyvern flew upwards, and the rider again fired another ray at the closing form of Fez, who shook off the sinister pale ray. The rider then flinched as a volley of Flynne’s arrows seemed to pass straight through his face. 

Before me materialised a 60 foot tall whirlwind. I pointed up at the wyvern and rider and simply told it, “Go,” and the massive air elemental hurtled up into the skies above my head, snaring up both rider and wyvern and holding them in the air awaiting the arrival of my comrades. 

Suddenly, from another corner lanced a completely separate blast of eldritch fire, stinging Fez for very little effect other than further irritating him. Realising that the figure we had been fighting was some kind of illusory projection, Janga read a scroll of _Invisibility Purge_, ridding the air around him of any hidden creatures, and then hurtled up into the air to try and close on the clearly invisible second enemy. 

Flynne’s arrows continued to lance through the visible wyvern, before Flynne realised why the rest of us were scanning the skies for another target, and screamed aloud in frustration.

Targetting a random spot in the air close to where the most recent eldritch lance had originated, I used a small spell to create a glowing blast of flickering golden dust, before triggering yet another power of the _Staff of the Magi_ which made the _Glitterdust_ burst outwards in a massive and dazzling pyrotechnic display. Meanwhile, I called up instructions in the auran language to send the air elemental searching for the true wyvern rider. 

Up in the air nearby, Fez quaffed a potion and joined in the hunt; but he rapidly fell behind the questing air elemental which hurtled off – clearly on the trail of the wyvern rider using some delicate senses of its own. 

We regrouped, and I gazed carefully at the walls to decipher its magic. We were indeed out of the teleport-limiting field, and so Janga was quick to teleport us all to Mage Point, and we hastened to approach Manzorian’s tower.

.oOo.

Manzorian’s assistant Celeste met us near the edge of the bridge to his tower, and led us straight to Manzorian’s study. Although the room itself was unchanged, the archmage appeared haggard and worried.

“The news of Dragotha’s defeat is tremendous,” he announced as we entered. “However I have worse news. The city of Alhastor is under siege – the streets are overrun with worms, and scrying shows a vortex is churning over a ziggurat which looms over the town. 

“We in the Circle of Eight have plans to cut off his power from within his home dimension, which is of course not without its own risks. This will leave the god himself greatly weakened and unable to return – but we would be trapped until Kyuss himself could be destroyed here. To do this the monolith would have to be shattered. I believe that it will be mounted atop the completed ziggurat.”

We nodded glumly – it looked like the dirty work would fall to us once again.

Taking a few moments to ourselves, we hastily teleported to the Free City, where I cashed in several large items and a vast array of treasure to trade for a small handful of easily available and useful-looking items, before hurtling back to Manzorian. There, he handed me the recently liberated portion of the Rod of Seven Parts, wishing us all luck and pausing before giving us one more piece of advice. 

“I don’t really know what sort of effect it might have on a being of Kyuss’ power, but you may find it useful to have access to a _Sphere of Annihilation_.” As he spoke, he produced a small painting of a devil’s face recessed into a wall, its mouth a void of inky darkness. 

“There is such a think in the Tomb of Horrors, and this painting should take you directly to it. I would suggest, however, that you leave obtaining it until the last possible moment – if something of that power materialised in the city, I anticipate that Kyuss would react, and do so violently. 

“Oh, and one final gift. These scrolls should help you react to any sudden changes in the environment.” As he spoke, three scrolls passed hands, and my enchanted spellsight blurred at their power. I unrolled one at random, and my jaw dropped at reading the heading – _*Wish*_.

“Do not,” he continued, “expect Kyuss to react as any ordinary undead. He will most certainly have a singular level of powers and abilities.”

With those comforting words ringing in our ears, we prepared for departure.

.oOo.

Before we left, I activated two massively powerful talismans from my _Bag of Holding_, gaining two more wishes to be used in the next few days; I was certain that they would be needed once we had arrived at Alhastor.

Then we stepped through a portal summoned by Manzorian, and were in Alhastor in an instant.


----------



## Eccles

The city of Alhastur was in flames. All around us came the crackling of flames and the screaming of the tormented survivors. The sky was dull and leaden, with eddies of ash whirled into the air. A completed ziggurat towered over the city, and from its peak flew a whirlwind of green light and black wind. To the east came the dreadful tearing noise as the front of a tall building fell away and crashed into the street. A deep green fog rolled through the streets, and where it passed it left decay and death. 

“It’s not right,” muttered Janga, and we all stared at him in disbelief.

“Not just that,” said Janga, summing up all the despair, death and devastation around us with a casual wave. “The feel of the air here. As though Kyuss is simply greater; in ascendance over all the other gods whilst we are in this place. It’s not natural.”

He was interrupted by the screaming of dozens of citizens, who streamed past us in a blind panic. They were fleeing from a number of the walking dead, who slashed down those too slow to run. Even as they collapsed, the bodies decayed and worms burst from their bodies, which lurched and rose to join their attackers. 

As my comrades turned and almost negligently destroyed the worm-infected undead, I grabbed one of the runners by the shoulder. Slowing to a halt, he turned to face me, wearing torn armour and still clutching a broken sword. 

“Lord Evan,” he gasped although I had not the faintest idea who the man was. “How could Zeench do this to us?”

“Where is he,” I demanded whilst shaking the man by his shoulders. 

“I don’t know,” he gasped back. “There are only three places which are safe for men; the Church of Kord, the Cathedral of Hextor and the Scarlet Spire of Wee Jass – the undead do not yet walk into the temples of other deities. 

Looking where the man was pointing, we headed off, gathering behind us an increasing number of terrified citizens trying to reach sanctity. 

.oOo.

As we pushed down the rubble-strewn streets, a building to our right lurched, and then collapsed spontaneously into rubble as two immense worms rose out amidst plumes of dust. Almost idly, one of them swept down with a vast maw and swallowed three civilians whilst its long body crushed two more.

We leapt into action, with Flynne firing, giving cover for Fez as he used the power of the massive shapeshifting spell he had cast on himself through the ring he was wearing. He rose up from the ground lengthening and reshaping himself as he went. His legs merged together whilst his arms branched. Standing before the massive worms in the form of a marilith, he reached onto his belt and to the weapons stowed across his chest and back. With a mighty metallic noise, he brandished two sunblades, a vorpal greataxe, a keen enchanted scythe, a cold iron flail and a rapier of puncturing. He bellowed a toothy scream at the worms and charged.

Overhead, Flynne’s arrows slammed home with terrible accuracy, but looked miniscule impaled into the massive worm. 

Janga cast a powerful spell and hurtled skywards, placing himself between the citizen and the two worms, but almost immediately one idiot managed to run past him drawing near one of the worms in confused terror. With a massive bite, the man was swallowed whole. Beyond the worms, where still more people clustered in panic, six more were slaughtered by the terrible worms. 

I fished out another magical staff of enchantment, using its powers to pull 7 of the citizens away from danger, whilst Fez was bitten as he approached, being wounded terribly by the massive teeth and covered in writhing worms. 

As Janga whirled a peasant-dressed woman to safety with the powers of his telekinesis ring, Fez attacked the worm which had just bitten him in a whirling orgy of savagery. Six blades lashed out in a terrible frenzy, and the worm was simply torn to rotting shreds.

As the second worm lashed around seeking a target, I leapt onto a rock and exhorted the remaining civilians to back away and join us in our trip to safety. They rushed to cluster around me, and Fez turned his pointed-toothed grin to the second worm. Two sunblades shone red and wet in the dim light as he went to work. 

The rest of us headed away, towards where we could hear the bells of Kord ringing to bring the faithful to safety. We hastened towards them.

.oOo.

In the square, a crowd of hundreds stood in the area between the three churches. Within the throng I could see familiar faces looking expectantly back at me – people who I had passed in the street or performed before in the city’s park. Three robed and armoured high priests stood near the doors of their own temples, each exhorting the crowd to do different things. 

“It’s Prince Zeech’s madness,” bellowed the high priest of Kord. “We should leave immediately – walk from this city whilst the Toil Road is still clear!”

Marching through the square to confront him, The high priestess of Wee Jass shouted at him. “You’re a traitor. Zeech himself has come to …”

The priestess opened and closed her mouth a few times in confusion, but I had seen Janga pass his hands whilst muttering the words to a spell of silencing which presumably enveloped her completely.

I spoke up, triggering my _Boots of Levitation_ to float above the crowd a little and call out for peace so that we could decide how best to escape the city.

“Do not listen to him,” interrupted the high priest of Hextor in a booming voice. I offer sanctuary for those best able to make the appropriate sacrifice. 

I was beginning to draw a crowd about me to see whether we could possibly lead them on a break from the city, as Flynne was picking his way through the throng towards the Hextorite priest with a purposeful expression on his face. 

Suddenly there came screams from the far side of the courtyard. Spinning on the spot, I could see a dozen undead knights, all crawling with worms, striding into the courtyard and laying about themselves with their long vicious blades. 

I saw an expression of puzzlement come over Fez’s face as he tried to work out what to turn into…


----------



## Eccles

There we go. Back to only one session behind myself now. Now where on earth did I put that last notebook?

(And how did the dog manage to end up in my seat on the sofa with me sitting on the floor?)


----------



## carborundum

Damn it's hairy genius! My cat does the same - dominates my girlfriend into demanding tea, then stealing my seat when I make it.

Another great update - the marilith is a great solution to the too-many-weapons-looted-and-not-enough-arms problem - nice one Fez!


----------



## carborundum

weird - double post. Can I delete it? sorry!


----------



## Quartz

Great update, but I note that with only 6 hours to go they're going to have to face Kyuss' and his tower with all its buffs intact - particularly the 



Spoiler



unlife vortex


 - and there's no time to remove key foes like Lashonna.


----------



## Eccles

Quartz said:
			
		

> Great update, but I note that with only 6 hours to go they're going to have to face Kyuss' and his tower with all its buffs intact - particularly the
> 
> 
> 
> Spoiler
> 
> 
> 
> unlife vortex
> 
> 
> - and there's no time to remove key foes like Lashonna.




Buffs? You mean he's prepared for this fight? Awww, damn...

Mind you, 6 hours is a long time in politics. Evan's current timetable is 1 hour to dispatch Lashonna, 30 minutes to sort the sky out, 45 to defeat a deity, then at 4.30 I have to deliver a guest sermon in the temple of Kord before we go over the road to stop the human sacrifice in the temple of Hextor 30 minutes later.

Seems achievable with 2 and a half hours to spare...


----------



## Abciximab

Coming up to the climax of the campaign rather quickly, very exciting! Can't wait for the final showdown.

Any thought's as to what may be next in line for your group?


----------



## Eccles

Abciximab said:
			
		

> Coming up to the climax of the campaign rather quickly, very exciting! Can't wait for the final showdown.
> 
> Any thought's as to what may be next in line for your group?




I reckon I'll leave Morrus to answer that properly, but we're losing Fez's player for a bit while he settles into a new job. Possibly a few sessions of something random, and then we'll jump onto 4e.


----------



## Eccles

As the Kyuss knights stamped into the square, people began to scream in terror and rush to get away. From my position hovering several feet above them, I could see an old man and his elderly wife pushed to the ground and trampled by the fleeing mob. The striding knights continued to lash out at the fleeing backs as they strode through the fallen, hacking down at exposed limbs and necks.

“Assault the foe! Overcome!”
“Retreat into the temple of Hextor!”
“---!”

The three high priests variously bellowed contradictory advice or screamed impotently from within Janga’s bubble of silenced air. The mob of civilians looked confused and were totally unable to decide who to follow, or else were distracted by Flynne cartwheeling up through the air to balance on the spire of the Hextorite temple from where he sent an arrow driving down into the knights on the other side of the square. 

Transforming into a lion-headed celestial form, Fez pounced, flying 50 feet across the heads of the astonished citizens, to land in front of one of the worm-eyed knights and hack heavily at it with his adamantine sunblade. Ignoring him, the knight lashed out away from Fez, killing a civilian in an instant, whilst blood spurted from about a dozen others who were killed by the other knights. 

From my heightened position, I added my voice to the two audible high priests, shouting that the people should head into the largest of the three temples, that of Hextor, for safety, which the Hextorite priest was already calling for. The Kord priest, bellowing instructions to attack until the muscles in his neck bunched and tightened. 

Glaring at him, I began to focus my attention on him. Whilst my words remained unchanged, I changed my cadence and stresses to time with his breaths and his visible pulse. Gradually, he became distracted, and his shouts broke and ceased. As I continued to call for people to run for safety, the Kordite priest could do nothing more than simply stare at me in total fascination.

Janga was busy as well. He hovered over the crowd, tiny wings on his boots flapping madly as he cast a powerful healing spell, which burst over many of the Kyuss knights and caused their flesh to crack and dust to spill to the ground. Two of the knights collapsed completely, whilst half a dozen others shuddered and looked severely damaged. 

Flynne’s arrows began to slam down in a constant stream, and as one of the corpse-knights collapsed, he shifted his aim to start to fire on another. Fez, meanwhile, swelled tremendously to tower over the Kyuss-spawn in the form of a Solar. His massive sun-sword grew as well, and he began to move in a blur with the magical powers of his own enchanted boots. Within a moment, three of the damaged undead were lying in pieces strewn across the street.

With fiendish accuracy, the six remaining undead lifted and dropped their tomb-blades in perfect unison and six more citizens spilled their life’s blood across the street. 

“Flee the undead! My acolytes and I will resolve the situation!”

It was the priestess of Wee Jass, who had stepped out of the silences sphere – distracting the citizens who still stood out in the square from following the instructions of myself and the other high priest. As I was about to turn my attention on her, Janga flew through the air and simply punched her in the face with one small gauntleted fist. She fell silent in astonishment at the gnome’s nerve and stared haughtily down at him – seeming to have forgotten the attacking undead. 

Whilst a few of Fez’s powerful blows went wide, Flynne’s did not, and another of the knights fell, by which time I had called so many of the citizens into safety that the large Hextorite temple was filled, and I had to call out to the others that they should run into the temple of Kord instead. 

Janga and the priestess of Wee Jass began to wrestle; flying boots and heavy armour proving telling as Janga’s tiny form was swirtly behind the much taller woman, putting her in a half nelson and forcing her head and shoulders back into the globe of silence. Though I couldn’t hear her language, it looked ugly.

Still under withering fire, two more of the undead collapsed, one hacked in two by Fez’s massive blade. Three more citizens died in response, but then I managed to get all the remaining survivors into the safety of the temple of Kord, and Janga released then apologised to the high priestess of the death goddess. 

With nobody to protect, Fez and Flynne were able to make incredibly short work of the last three Kyuss Knights. 

.oOo.

“I have cast a spell of divination,” roared the high priest of Kord into our faces, ignoring the fact that he was clearly spitting across our armoured bodies. Either the man was almost completely deaf, or treated even simple things like conversation as a challenge. 

“In my visions, I saw an altar,” he continued loud enough to be heard across the now empty square. “The powers of the altar assist the worm God and casts this deathly pallor across the city. It is to be found ‘beneath the lair of the silver dragon’, but I do not know what that means.”

We looked at one another. “We do,” I told him, then shouted it a second time in case he hadn’t caught me. 

As we turned to go, easing weapons from their scabbards as we set off.

“Return when the dragon is slain,” shouted the priest of Kord. “It would be a righteous subject for a guest sermon. I shall be speaking for the next three hours, but then you would be free to talk for a little.

I nodded, but before I could leave another voice spoke up.

“Thank you for the audience,” came the sneering voice of the priest of Hextor. The sacrifices begin in four hours. As he stepped back into the temple, there came the sound of chains and a bar falling across.

“We’ll add it to the list,” we agreed as we headed for Lashonna’s mansion house. 

.oOo.

In crossing the town to Lashonna’s home, we passed close to the DeLuxury, the massive hotel we had stayed at whilst we were in the city months ago. Down a side street, we spotted a gout of fire bursting across the barricaded front doors – perhaps two dozen undead pulled at the wooden supports whilst three robed figures flung spells to blast the hotel open. Several vampires and a tall Kyuss Knight led the assault. 

From a top window, we could see the owner, Armin, ducking away from a spell before yelling for help and flinging a number of heavy brass pans down towards the attacking undead. Shag Solomon could be seen praying in another high window.

Sighing deeply, we stepped off our course as we did what we could to help. 

.oOo.

Running towards a pair of the four vampires, Fez began waving his sunblade overhead, and piercing daylight erupted around him; cowering away as their skin hissed and burned, they moved towards Janga, Flynne and myself, soon joined by their two comrades. Flynne wasn’t expecting this, and was looking at the heavily armoured Kyuss Knight as he sent 5 arrows slamming through the figure’s backplate. All of the arrows punched through, but the figure turned to stare at us – two thick worms in its eye sockets questing towards us.

Three dark spells lanced at Fez, snapping and crackling with evil powers, but they all slammed into his back; but some property of the celestial form he was wearing threw off the magic of the three disintegration spells. 

I pulled out a staff I had commissioned months before, and fired a blast of sunlight which tore off the head of the closest vampire; beyond an elderly woman was torn out of a window by one of the vampire spawn, and I started to call up instructions to the defenders on how to stay safe. 

The Kyuss Knight lunged at Fez, and one of the worms in its eye sockets lashed out and swelled noticeably as it tore something from him. The steadfast barbarian howled in pain.

Janga smashed at a vampire with his little mace, whilst Fez grew into a massive earth elemental. His sunblade (now eight feet in length), lashed down onto the Kyuss Knight, bisecting it almost instantly. 

Flynne fired a series of arrows into the pointy teeth of the closest vampire, and they reacted by all leaping savagely on Janga’s small form. The sound of pounding fists and teeth scraping along steel armour shrieked through the air, but from under the three pale bodies came the muffled voice of the cleric.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s dark under here, though…”

Fez’s earth elemental form was crumbled slightly by another series of dark lancing spells striking him. Between shouting instructions up at the building, I cast a spell at the three liches, and one of them began to make the noises of a popular children’s skipping rhyme. 

Janga’s muffled voice sounded like an effort to repel the undead, but they remained piled on top of him, whilst in the background Fez turned into a tall were-tiger, which pounced down onto the liches, sweeping two of them aside in only one blow, and he unleashed the remainder of his fury on the last one, which collapsed to the floor amidst the sound of dozens of delighted and laughing children.

Amidst the twang and thwack of heavy arrows into dead bodies, the vampires continued their assault on Janga, all trying to grab him and drag him to the floor; they slid off him as a forgotten spell took effect; I blasted the flesh off one of them, and Fez turned with a gleam in his eye. 

After that, it was just mopping up.


----------



## Eccles

Next session - We manage to kill a vampire in its own surprise round, and a pit fiend turns up.

Which ends up SPOILER-ing the SPOILER.


----------



## carborundum

I only have two words, 'good' and 'grief'.

That's some serious butt-kicking!


----------



## Eccles

Having been rejoined by Bob, we found ourselves standing before Lashonna’s estate – the gates appeared locked but unguarded. The lock was clearly enchanted when looked at through my _Clair de Lunettes_, and this was confirmed by Flynne when he checked it over. Despite the power of the enchantment on the gate, Flynne seemed almost contemptuous when he disarmed and unlocked it. 

We picked our way along the winding track to the mansion some 500 yards away, noticing a small graveyard a short distance off to our left within the grounds. Janga cast a spell of _Find the Path_ upon Flynne, who turned like a compass to face the graveyard. Moments later we found ourselves picking between the gravestones to face a towering angel statue. Fez and Flynne checked the area, and whilst Fez was at the rear of the angel’s pedestal pointing out the signs of scratch marks showing that it would move aside, Flynne was reaching up and idly pulling on the statue’s hand.

The angel’s eyes erupted with crackling lightning, which lanced down on the spot Flynne was standing on. Or had been standing on – his phenomenal elven reactions had already sent him leaping to one side. The angel then slipped aside to reveal a stairway heading into the bowels of the earth.

.oOo.

Heading down some thirty feet below the ground on the circling stairwell, we reached a short corridor which ended with a metal door. Flynne was quick to search and then unlock it, and we looked beyond to see a well furnished guard room; weapon racks and a lit fireplace. There were no exits to the room, but there were four large stone columns spaced evenly around it.

Flynne slinked in, and Fez stomped after him. Almost immediately, an extremely pale faced man slipped out from behind one of the columns, calling out “Lashonna, I do this for you!”

I had no sooner begun to recognise him as someone I had seen at Prince Zeech’s party, than he had begun to attack Fez with a glittering bastard sword. He missed a lot – his sword slipping off Fez’s heavy armour or simply being sidestepped by the battle-wise barbarian. 

Flynne stepped back into view and fired repeatedly at the bastard sword wielding vampire, which snarled in pain at the holy arrows slamming into its flesh. Three vampires stepped out from behind the other pillars and began to pummel the archer.

Bob fired his small bow, loaded with his own holy arrows; they struck home with pinpoint accuracy, and the tall vampire collapsed in a heap. 

As Flynne started to shoot at the vampires around him, one of them collapsed in the teeth of the holy energies, and the others both snarled at Fez, beckoning. I saw the flash of magic between then, but the barbarian completely ignored it and started to chase them around the room. One was slaughtered in a moment, and the other fled before being pinned to the wall by Bob’s small arrows and then transfixed by Flynne’s shooting. 

.oOo.

Having located a secret Door, Flynne led us downwards once more, leading to a square room, in the centre of which was a metal drain cover. There was a nearly overpowering stench of mud, blood and decay. 

Flynne strode into the room, and misty tendrils coalesced and wrapped around him. Screaming, he was hoisted towards the ceiling by the magical creatures, and his body began to sag and turn grey. Clouds of fog erupted around us, which itched our throats and would probably have caused us considerable damage had we not been warded carefully. 

Bob’s arrows flew through the targets, and then Fez (in a Frankenstein form of towering might in his flesh golem form) pounded into the room. Although we couldn’t see him in the fog, we could hear his almost bestial yell of surprise, followed by a loud crashing noise as something immensely heavy fell to the floor.

There was a flash of light within the fog, but more fog erupted around us, condensing as more tendrils which lashed out around us. Something wrapped around my neck, lifting me into the air.

I could see Bob and Janga also hoisted into the air by the spectral forces, their legs kicking as they struggled to be free. 

Despite his precarious position, Janga managed to cast a spell, and Bob and I were released, drawing a wand as I stood from the floor and sending a wash of flame over one of the tendrils. Beyond, there were flickers of lightning in the fog. From near me, Bob fired arrow after arrow blindly into the fog.

To my immense alarm, something roared strangely, muffled by the fog in the room. There was a pounding noise, Janga cast a spell and something else thumped to the floor within the fog. 

Cursing myself for a fool, I produced another wand, one with the power to control the undead. Triggering it, I was disappointed when nothing whatsoever happened. Other than a sheaf of arrows hurtling back out of the fog as though summoned by my spell. Yelling in alarm, I dropped to the ground as Bob began to return fire into the mists. 

Amidst a feral roar, there was a vast pounding sound, and the fog faded abruptly. Flynne was grey from the effects of the tendrils sinister draining powers, and Fez looked – he looked like a massive earth elemental, but he had a number of scorch marks across his stony hide. 

.oOo.

Pausing only for healing magic from Janga, we looked around. There was a door on the other side of the room and the metal grille in the floor.

Sticking his head through the stone floor, Fez looked under the grille, grinding out the news that there was a drop into body-filled slime with tunnels on either side.

Leaving the dreadful idea of ‘body filled slime’ well alone, we pushed open the door, stepping into a statue-filled large octagonal room. To the left, the room rose to join a second large octagon, in which blue and green semi-precious stones formed a huge circle. Yet another area lay beyond, containing a massive lifting arm. 

Central in the statue-filled room was a massive statue, working around it stood 8 liches. We went to work on them in turn.

Bob and Flynne fired a stream of arrows into the closest, destroying it before it had done anything more than turn around. I then called up a ring of fire, which surrounded the undead, before Fez leapt in, hacking with celestial might to destroy two of them in a single celestial hack.

Fleeing, the five remaining liches dashed into the centre of the magic circle, which seemed to heal them somewhat, and they gestures menacingly at us. Janga gestured, and a flash from his magical ring flung a heavy stone statue into the circle. It passed through the edges with a flash, and glanced off one of the liches, making it stagger.

Flynne shot one repeatedly, and it fell, leaving only 4 standing. Bob’s archery, whilst just as accurate, didn’t drop his target. 

Casting two spells in rapid succession with the aid of a magic item in my belt, I silenced the area they were standing in and then ringed the four liches with another ring of fire. 

The next we heard was a chanting sound, and glimpses of the liches beyond the fire wall showed they had dashed through, getting burned. Dark lines lanced out through the fire, two missing Bob destroying a substantial area of the wall, and a third struck the wall behind Flynne; though he wasn’t quick enough to duck one. He gritted his teeth and shook off the worst of the spell’s damage.

Grabbing Fez, Janga cast a spell. They disappeared completely, and I looked around wildly to spot them. They were both standing in the centre of the magic circle, looking dazed and confused, amidst the inferno of my fire wall. Whilst Bob and Flynne shot, and destroyed one of the 4 liches, I dropped another wall of fire (using the _Staff of the Magi_ this time, which destroyed them all. 

In the centre of the circle, there was a vast gout of fire, and I could see there was a deep pit opening up. A speck in the depths of the pit hurtled towards us with a roaring noise, and then a dreadful _something_ burst out of it. Wreathed in flames, clutching a dreadful whip and shielded with tremendous bat wings, the Pit Fiend roared, and simply strode over Fez and Janga, contemptuous of their stunned forms. It pushed through the ring of fire and burst out of the Magic Circle, closing on Bob, Flynne and myself. 

Fire burst amongst us, but we leapt aside – though Bob was burned by it somewhat. Then the Fiend bellowed a word of power, which washed over us without any appreciable effect as well, other than us all practically sweating lead shot.

Even as Bob and Flynne peppered the beast with arrows, I dashed forwards, singing as Zollchin the Sublime Chord had taught me to empower and enhance my spell. I touched the massive beast, singing my hand as I did so, but carried on singing.

I turned back to my comrades, feeling the hatred of the Pit Fiend’s gaze upon me, and the air from its panting breath. Its wings wreathed tight, as in time with my voice the beast’s cloven hooves leapt from the floor, and crashed to the floor two feet to my left.

Still singing, I bowed to my two archer companions, as the Pit Fiend’s right hoof tapped the floor behind me and stepped back in line.

I grinned, and backed from the Pit Fiend, conducting all the while as its fists balled in disgust and slammed its hands to its waist; the long almost sentient whip curling around its wrist as it did so.

The beast bent its knees, burning eyes drilling into mine with a promise of certain vengeance, and thrust its waist horrifyingly towards us.

Before it could continue to thrust in time with the singing, Fez burst free of the magic circle and hacked the beast down in three easy strokes.

It was something of a relief.

For us _and _the Pit Fiend.


----------



## Eccles

Personal note: Woot! Back up to date!


----------



## Dpulse303

hehe   
Now THAT is how we do a pit feind round theese here parts .


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Well done, Eccles, you did it again! 

I'm not sure what the deal was with that Pit Fiend, though; what spell/power did you use against him?


----------



## Eccles

Otto's Irrisistable Dance with added bard flavourings...


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Eccles said:
			
		

> Otto's Irrisistable Dance with added bard flavourings...





Gwahahaha, now I get it! Hilarious stuff, good sir   

Say, isn't this chunk of the adventure path the Final Run per se? The big showdown with Mr. Wormy McWormester? And is it expected that you reach Epic?


----------



## Morrus

Cerulean_Wings said:
			
		

> Gwahahaha, now I get it! Hilarious stuff, good sir
> 
> Say, isn't this chunk of the adventure path the Final Run per se? The big showdown with Mr. Wormy McWormester? And is it expected that you reach Epic?




Mr. Wormy McWormester was ... umm... "met", last night.  And the party is now down two members - the necromancer left a few months ago, and Fez's player has just moved away for a new job. 

The rogue is currently operating as the tank....


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Morrus said:
			
		

> Mr. Wormy McWormester was ... umm... "met", last night.  And the party is now down two members - the necromancer left a few months ago, and Fez's player has just moved away for a new job.
> 
> The rogue is currently operating as the tank....




You jest!   

So how are they possibly going to win, being two people? Maybe if they both were level 25+...


----------



## Dr Simon

Three people, isn't it? Janga, Flynne and Evan.


----------



## Morrus

Dr Simon said:
			
		

> Three people, isn't it? Janga, Flynne and Evan.




Yeah, down two members, not down _to_ two members (which I'm guessing he misread it as!)

There are now four, actually - don't forget Bob, the goblin archer.  He's not here often, but he'll certainly be in on the grand finale!

I would estimate that losing Fez was the equivalent of losing two regular characters, though.


----------



## Eccles

Yep. Current party makeup is 2 archers, 1 cleric (who can't cast positive energy spells without a roll of 15 on a D20), and a Bard.

Hardly the typical 'balanced' party.

Oh, and we don't have an epic weapon between us. I'm guessing a deity's going to have Epic level DR. Which rather cripples the two archers. (I assume to be epic it's got to have a +6 modifier to the roll, rather than being, for instance, a +4 item with a +2 ability on it?)

My suggestion to the others is that we all roll up a dozen paladin characters each, and have a glorious cavalry charge...


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> 1 cleric (who can't cast positive energy spells without a roll of 15 on a D20)




There is something to be said for going the long way round, rather than flying straight to Kyuss himself... 

*Another level, dealing with minions one by one, getting rid of some of his power.  But this way is fun, too!  If quicker...


----------



## Eccles

Morrus said:
			
		

> There is something to be said for going the long way round, rather than flying straight to Kyuss himself...
> 
> *Another level, dealing with minions one by one, getting rid of some of his power.  But this way is fun, too!  If quicker...




To be fair, we weren't to know, and the backstory is to get there ASAP 'coz he might not have turned up, or something...


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> To be fair, we weren't to know, and the backstory is to get there ASAP 'coz he might not have turned up, or something...




It's D&D fer chrissake!  Y'know, the game where you fight though the dungeon to reach the bad guy at the end.  That's how it works!  You had a dungeon with numerous entry points, and, I guess unfortunately for you, an external climax location right on top which you could shortcut to.  The author of that adventure was eeevil....!


----------



## Eccles

What're the odds of wishing Dave hadn't touched down on the Spire and essentially hitting the reset button on the last 5 seconds of game-time?

(As the last 5 seconds scared me!)


----------



## NarlethDrider

after a few days i finally finished the story hour----cant wait for the final battle great work their sir bard!


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Mr. Eccles, I beg of you, don't leave us hanging here in suspense! We're all very anxious to learn about the cataclysmic conclusion to the Age of Worms


----------



## Eccles

I'll get there - been a _very_ disrupted few weeks. 

In the next writeup, I'm proud to announce that the bard becomes the most destructive member of the party to date. 

Oh, and we make a very silly mistake.

And we lose Fez. Which was careless.


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Eccles said:
			
		

> I'll get there - been a _very_ disrupted few weeks.
> 
> In the next writeup, I'm proud to announce that the bard becomes the most destructive member of the party to date.
> 
> Oh, and we make a very silly mistake.
> 
> And we lose Fez. Which was careless.




Disrupted weeks? Very understandable, I'm going through that right now. Sorry if I sounded impatient, I only meant to express encouragement.

And your next-entry foreshadowing leaves me even more anxious!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Eccles said:
			
		

> I'll get there - been a _very_ disrupted few weeks.
> 
> In the next writeup, I'm proud to announce that the bard becomes the most destructive member of the party to date.
> 
> Oh, and we make a very silly mistake.
> 
> And we lose Fez. Which was careless.




What, he just wandered off?

"No seriously, I just looked away for a minute and he'd gone!"


----------



## Eccles

There followed a period of close examination of the heavy machine, covered in levers, dials and inscrutable readouts. Heavy fluids flowed through and under crystalline pipework, and three rune-encrusted pillars of gemwork stood above it, creating a framework in which hovered a sinister black sphere. The sphere was silent, yet even a glance at it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and getting too close was followed by a feeling of weakness and terror. The thing _stank_ of unholy magics and power.

“Negative energy?” I looked to Janga, who nodded once in confirmation. 

“Well then this is bad,” I concluded. “As near as I can tell, it seems to be tapping the Plane of Negative Energy and feeding its powers directly here; no doubt it feeds anything undead and saps those of us with any vitality until we join them.”

“So we smash it,” roared Fez as he ran up and brought his blazing sunblade down onto one of the crystalline tubes. It shattered, sending thick black blood-like liquid spattering all over the blade and his arm. He howled and clutched his arm, collapsing to the floor in pain as the thick liquid crawled up the weapon. Even as we moved to help him, several ghostly figures emerged from around the machine’s black central sphere. 

Each of the four ghostly creatures had eight long whip-like arms, each ended with a gnashing set of teeth. From behind me, Bob fired a series of enchanted arrows, which sliced through the air and then passed harmlessly through it; only one of the arrows tugged at the creature’s form. Flynne followed suit, and two of his long arrows made the creature ripple in pain.

Janga started casting, and I enthused my comrades with song and a spell of speed; but we weren’t quick enough. Fez was still lying on the floor trembling in pain as the four ghostly monstrosities closed on us. The first lashed out at Flynne, and he trembled as its first long limb passed through his torso, making him momentarily look close to collapse; then the monstrosity unleashed a frenzy of lashing biting attacks on him.

Another pulsed once, and Bob and I could both feel something try to throw us through the air – we both managed to stay on the ground as the other two pulsed as well, but were unable to shift Janga’s armoured form.

The cleric’s summoning spell came to an end, and several angelic forms burst into the air around us. Bob followed this up with a powerful healing spell, but I could see a tidal wave of magic as his healthy positive spell was pulled away into the maelstrom of the unlife vortex like water down a drain.

I cast a spell of my own, slamming a wall of mystical force between us and most of the long-tendrilled ghosts. Only one of the four was on our side, and Flynne (taking another lash as he did so and starting to look distinctly punch-drunk) fired another barrage of arrows at the closest creature. With a wailing noise, it was torn apart by the arrows, and drifted apart. 

The other three monsters, however, surged through the wall and ceiling to emerge amongst us, and with a bite from one of them, Flynne collapsed, twitching, to the floor. I looked up, and was alarmed to see Fez on the other side of the Force Wall was still now, covered in the black liquid and moving only in deep shuddering pulses, which were echoed by throbs from the black sphere above him. 

Being lashed painfully himself, Bob took aim as well. His arrow struck true but dealt only minimal damage – Bob, however, was quivering on his feet and his face was pale, looking dangerously close to catatonia.

Flynne was down, Bob nearly with him, and Fez’s life force had been nearly entirely leeched away by the evil machine. Janga and I were surrounded by the lashing long-limbed beings, which were spaced equally around us and ready to unleash death upon us.

Trouble.

.oOo.

I muttered some words and snatched at my belt pouch, having summoned one of my more expensive scrolls to the top of the bag’s large extradimensional space. Ducking a lashing blow, I unrolled the scroll and read it, and was rewarded by the sight of a snapping beak hurtling towards my throat.

As the words burned away from the scroll, the savage attack slowed, and then stopped in the air inches away from me. I stepped aside, clutching the _Staff of the Magi_, which I used to summon wall after wall of roasting, rolling flame, circling Flynne, Bob, Janga and myself and facing outwards. Then I created still more walls of fire a little further away, facing inwards.

I was interrupted in my sixth casting by Janga prodding my side. 

“You can stop now,” he said. “I think you got ‘em.”

I could barely hear him above the multiple infernos, and it took me some moments to unweave the spells. By the time I had done so, Janga had healed all of us except Fez. We dashed towards the machine, but as we drew close we could see that all that remained of him was a pile of enchanted weapons and equipment. 

Was it possible that the black unlife vortex was a little larger? Or were we imagining it?

.oOo.

As the others scooped up the equipment, I spent my time examining the machine from a careful distance. Eventually, I straightened, my spine popping as I did so. 

“I think I’ve got it. I can turn it of, but they’d turn it back on again. I can muck it up, but they could fix it. Or I can make it … well, I can make it blow up. But you’d better get to a safe distance before I do it.”

“How far’s safe,” asked Janga curiously. 

“Half a mile? This is hardly precise. It’s not alchemy…”

I could see they were already backing away.

.oOo.

Fifteen minutes later, I was ready. A spectral horse stood motionless behind me, and several spells of protection lay over both it and myself. I rolled up my sleeves and began to manipulate the switches and pull the levers. The machine shuddered, and the unlife vortex began to crackle with black lightning. 

I was swinging my leg onto the horse when the building began to shudder, and the horse had surged into motion as the crackling and unstable conduit to the negative energy plane began to shrink in on itself.

I was halfway down the long corridor out of the complex when a terrible rushing wind began to go past me, being sucked into the vortex and it collapsed. 

The wind stopped, and then began to hurtle past me. Even as I was thrown off my spectral mount, I summoned all my concentration to cast a spell of teleportation. 

The explosion washed over my body.

.oOo.

My next breath was drawn a thousand miles away. I was still underground, but standing before a statue with a dark mouth. I unfolded a square of material and placed it on the ground and then pulled the wire loop of the _Talisman of Sphere Control_ from the special wrist-sheathe I had commissioned for it months ago. 

Using it, and focussing my concentration on it rather than trying to bully the artefact to obey me through pure mystical force, guiding the _Sphere of Annihilation_ into the _Portable Hole_ was almost laughably easy. 

Then I teleported back to my comrades in the city.

.oOo.

After using a scroll of massive potency to _wish_ that we were rested and ready for what might come, and we set off for the ziggurat which loomed over the town.

.oOo.

The massive structure was easily 300 feet high, topped with a three segmented tower like a massive trident rising from the peak of the pyramidal structure. Lightning leapt from balcony to balcony of the structure. 

At the base, there were 4 entrances, which were mirrored at the level above and again in the layer above that. There were further entrances in the tower and we cast the spells to approach it. 

Janga’s spell of pathfinding directed us to the top of the tower as the ‘focal point of the energies in the structure’, and then he used an item to summon a flying griffon which preceded us up the tower to make sure than nothing would snatch it out of the air. 

Once the griffon was flying around the tower top, we followed it up, and hovering above the tower’s central platform, we could see a pinnacle of black rock, which seemed to writhe under the surface as though filled with the eldritch worms. 

The pinnacle was surrounded by four ‘L’ shaped rocks, clearly designed to focus some mystical power.

Flynne went first, touching down on the platform and heading for the stairs down.

.oOo.

The instant the elf’s foot touched the tower, the clouds overhead abruptly went green, and a green tendril of energies, like a tornado, whirled around us. It touched the tower, and a massive sphere of dark necromantic energies burst from the ziggurat, hurtling outwards in all directions slaying hundreds, perhaps thousands, beneath us. It burst over us all, and whilst I was strangely unaffected, my comrades were agonised by its power. Flynne and Bob were both abruptly frozen in place in abject terror; Flynne on the tower itself, and Bob turning gently in the sky, wings on his boots flapping madly.

The entire side of the dark tower rippled strangely, and then two torrents of worms streamed out of it, forming into the form of a tremendously large executioner’s mace. A huge fist clutching the weapon formed out of the stream of worms, and then Kyuss himself simply emerged from the building, towering over us.

As Janga prayed, I could feel the wash of positive energies come from him, freeing the others and protecting us all from Kyuss’ baleful influence; though I couldn’t imagine what it had cost him to channel that much of his deity’s power.

Then Kyuss’ dreadful gaze turned onto us, as tiny undead forms streamed out of the bast of the ziggurat and began to look up, some taking flight to join the combat alongside their deity.

“Uh… Uhh…” 

I didn’t know what to say or do – as a vengeful deity prepared to destroy us all, it was hopeless.

We were doomed.

“Uh…”


----------



## Eccles

Tallarn said:
			
		

> What, he just wandered off?
> 
> "No seriously, I just looked away for a minute and he'd gone!"




Nah. We lost him. Really careless.


----------



## carborundum

Eccles said:
			
		

> Nah. We lost him. Really careless.




At least you got his stuff 

Seriously though ... where'd he go? Does he come back? Will he save the day? You can't leave it at "Uh..."

ARGH!

Here's what we'll do. I'm off to bed. When I wake up all will be revealed. Okay?


(please?)


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Awesome write up, Eccles, glad you could post it 

Still, not-so-awesome for the group: K-dawg himself emerged! Was this a good thing, in the sense that it's the best that could've happened, or was there another way to reach the Big Bad Worm?

And what's the DC for disabling a World Destruction Device? 60? 70?


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Eccles said:
			
		

> Nah. We lost him. Really careless.




I take it the player left the game - a touch of bad form there, to leave so close to the end!

Or are we about to see a last-minute replacement character? 

Excellent write up, and excellent work with the Walls of Fire (I presume that was what it was?)


----------



## carborundum

I miss Fez already.


----------



## Eccles

Tallarn said:
			
		

> I take it the player left the game - a touch of bad form there, to leave so close to the end!
> 
> Or are we about to see a last-minute replacement character?
> 
> Excellent write up, and excellent work with the Walls of Fire (I presume that was what it was?)




Yeah - Inconsequenti-Al got a new job and has had to leave us due to the exceedingly late nights.

And it was the classic Time Stop/Wall of Fire combo. Suddenly being surrounded by something like 260hp damage seemed to do the trick. Janga and I were in a heck of a lot of trouble, so it was definitely time to get out the big guns...



			
				carborundum said:
			
		

> I miss Fez already.




Believe me, so do we! The only character we had with a decent HtH attack, high AC and lots of HP... Those three things seem to be pretty important!


----------



## Eccles

“Uh… Flynne… Flynne, I wish you hadn’t done that…”

There was a massive rush of air and a blurring of magic, as one of the artefacts I had activated a few hours earlier was triggered. The tiny forms beneath us flowed backwards like a tide into the body of the ziggurat, and Kyuss’ baleful wrath was removed from Flynne. The god formed seamlessly back into the side of the tower as my elven comrade stepped back from the tower-top and into the air.

A vast globe of blackness receded across the city, restoring life to hundreds, perhaps thousands, as it formed back into the ziggurat, and there was another rush of air as we all descended to earth.

.oOo.

Puzzled, we stood there, with an equally confused griffon circling over our heads. 

Flynne indicated to head for the roof, and took flight.

“No!” We all yelled, and then wondered why.

“I just have a bad feeling about it,” explained Bob, and we all nodded in agreement, sharing a sinister sense of deja-vu. Then we turned to look at the closest entrance to the ziggurat.

.oOo.

We entered through a 40 foot colonnade into an atrium, where 2 twelve foot high statues of Kyuss stood on either side of a wide archway into a larger chamber beyond. 

Alcoves on either side of the atrium held staircases which spiralled upwards. 

Janga moved towards the atrium, and a torrent of worms sprayed from the mouths of the two statues to pool and then mass in front of them. The mound of worms began to condense and become taller, taking shape.

Flynne yelled something, and a torrent of flame filled the room, leaving them smoking but largely unaffected; they continued to get taller and form into creatures the size of ogres, with bat-wings; even as they were still forming, Bob was filling one with arrows.

Clutching my _Staff of the Magi_, I began a spell of summoning, as two vampires simply stepped from the shadows. Yelling shrilly, they unleashed a series of rapid blows with kamas at Bob and Flynne.

Confidently, Janga turned and cast a spell, slapping one of the vampires on the shoulder, and it burst into dust, collapsing instantly. 

Not to be out-done, Flynne fired a series of arrows at one of the ogre-beasts, which slammed into its half-formed skull and tore deeply, killing the creature instantly. 

To his left, Bob stepped back from the closest opponent, and fired repeatedly into the chest of the surviving vampire, seriously wounding it. 

Completing my spell of summoning, I began to sing, as two massive celestial triceratops materialised into the thick of the melee. One smashed into the now fully-formed cornugon devil, whilst the second drove its horn deeply into the wounded vampire’s chest, turning it to dust in an instant. 

The cornugon roared, and whirled a tremendous spiked chain around like a dervish, opening a series of terrible wounds across the back and sides of the closer triceratops. Meanwhile, two hidden and worm-covered Kyuss knights leapt from the shadowy side passageways to hack at the injured triceratops and Bob.

The triceratops was nearly destroyed in the onslaught, whilst Bob managed to leap aside from the undead knight’s heavy blade.

Flynne carried on shooting at the cornugon, leaving several arrows deeply embedded in its scaly hide, whilst Bob backed away firing steadily at the newly arrived Kyuss-knight. The triceratops slashed out once again, and then I triggered a magical staff, blasting into the cornugon with powerful daylight (and blinding the recently summoned and heavily injured triceratops which was in my way). 

The devil strode past the blinded and heavily injured triceratops, lashing out at Flynne with the chain and firing a tremendous blast of lightning which the black-scaled elf avoided almost contemptuously. He and Bob continued to duck and dodge away from the heavy blades of the knights. Both of them backed away, continuing to pile arrows into the undead; one of them collapsed under the onslaught, and they both switched targets without so much as batting an eyelid. It fell to the ground in turn. 

The triceratops got in the way as I scorched the cornugon with a second sunbeam, and then as it launched into another onslaught, the archers systematically shot it to pieces. 

.oOo.

Pausing to heal and dismiss the wounded and blind celestials, we moved into the heart of the base of the ziggurat. 

In the centre of a huge 30 foot high vaulted chamber was a shrine ringed with candles. Before it stood three large fierce-looking figures which turned their beautiful faces to snarl at us as they unfurled feathered wings. Between them stood Lashonna wearing a green velvet gown. She turned, and smiled a cruel and haughty smile at Flynne who had done his best to sneak into the room ahead of us. 

“Ah, Flynne,” she smiled as waves of magic pulsed over us all. Thank you for aiding me in destroying that dusty old dracolich and leaving me to take my place as Kyuss’ greatest servant. 

“I have a proposal – have you considered switching sides?”

There was something subtly wrong with her intonation as she spoke, and I was suddenly aware of the mind-protecting Champion’s Belt Flynne wore glowing brightly under a sudden onslaught. 

Flynne turned and beckoned us all in. 

“Kneel now and submit to the Wormgod,” Lashonna told us. “I promise you that you shall each become a captain in Kyuss’ army, answering only to me. Nothing will be denied to you…”

More magic washed through the room, thwarted only by the layer upon layer of mystical protections we had set upon ourselves. 

“Interesting,” I said; trying to buy time for my comrades and insinuating my own words with a power of encouragement to my comrades. “We know you were once a true and noble creature prepared to lay down her life to thwart Dragotha. We saw you deny him his victory a thousand years ago; what were you offered to turn your back on so much… nobility?”

She snarled at me, and began to reply when Flynne became bored. The short-tempered elf ripped arrows from his quiver – and all hell broke loose.

.oOo.

Before the quick-witted elf could so much as aim his bow, Lashonna exploded into action; opening her elven mouth wide and blasting us all with freezing air. I managed to leap aside, but the others were coated with a layer of frost.

Trying to help my comrades, I triggered a rapid spell of _hastening_ and then screaming a powerful spell at the elfin dragon and the three angels. The spell only took effect on one of them, which suddenly looked dazed and confused, whilst feathers were blasted off the others under the sonic onslaught.

Lashonna merely stood there, totally unruffled. 

Bob fired at her, and every single one of his six arrows glanced off her preternaturally tough flesh or the thick layers of magical protection around her. 

The two moving angels leapt forwards, gliding on their long wings to attack Bob and Janga with glowing longswords. Bob ducked, but Janga was cut deeply with the razor-edged blade I somehow recognized instinctively as a legendary vorpal blade. 

Flynne fired arrow after arrow into the stunned angel, leaving it hideously wounded, but still standing, whilst Janga cast a dispelling enchantment onto the elfin figure of Lashonna – the spell failed completely, sparking off some deep and unknown protective spell. He then took to the air, taking another blow from the vorpal sword of the fallen angel as he did so. Once positioned between the many targets, and safely away from the rest of us non-believers, he spoke a tremendous word of power.

Nothing happened.

The diminutive cleric followed up the holy word with a swearword.

Lashonna spat words of her own, ensnaring Flynne and I in a web of energy which dazzled us both. As I blinked away stars, I dimly saw Bob leaping aside and shooting at an angel, which still stood under the onslaught and swung back at him, cutting deeply. 

A red-eyed angel narrowly missed Flynne, and the third took flight to land next to me, stabbing my shoulder with a rune-edged weapon. The pain brought me abruptly back to reality, and I saw Janga flying back through the air to heal Bob and then touch his temples and squint as he cast a spell of immense power at the nearest angel.

Which failed totally to implode.

Lashonna, meanwhile, twisted and grew, her gown fluttering to the floor as she swelled to tremendous size as a huge true silver dragon.

Puling my enchanted rapier free from its scabbard, I stabbed at the angel attacking me, triggering its power to leech away the life-force of the fallen celestial being. The damage to it was tremendous, and I could see life fluttering in its greying flesh and dimming eyes, but the creature stood firm and readied for another onslaught. 

As Bob’s tiny arrows struck home in his closest angelic target, ‘my’ angel slashed two more deep wounds across my sides. Meanwhile, Flynne ducked and weaved away from his, whilst the third lashed out with its vorpal blade, and abruptly Janga’s head fell free from his still-flying body. 

Our cleric was dead, and all our foes still faced us.

.oOo.

Yelling in anger, Flynne shot down one target, and then spun on his feet to slay the angel close to me as well. He spun once again and fired three long arrows into the back of the last angel, which staggered across the wide pool of Janga’s blood.

In her long-necked dragon form, Lashonna stepped away from the altar, and began to lash and snap at the nimble archer, who was unable to dodge the many blows and collapsed heavily to the floor. 

Triggering a magic ring I had been wearing for many months, I blazed across the room as a blast of lightning to land by Janga, sprinkling liquids from a specially prepared and massively powerful flask, distilled from the liquid at the centre of the legendary _philosopher’s stone_ to give Janga back his life. Over our heads, Bob fired still more arrows into the angel just 10 feet away, and it collapsed to the floor. 

Janga flew back across the room to Flynne and cast a spell of his own, bringing him back from death’s door.

As Flynne struggled back to his feet, Lashonna got angry. She slammed and hacked at Janga, leaving him covered in his own blood and staggering on the spot; at which point she spat out the words to a meagre spell which sent 5 small darts of energy to slam into the armoured cleric. The last slammed through his helmet and skull and he collapsed back onto the floor, mere seconds after I had resurrected him by expending an artefact. 

And I didn’t have another one, either.


----------



## Morrus

And Janga dies twice... _in one round_!


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Sweet Pelor, that fight is simply _brutal_! How are you guys supposed to beat Lashonna without Fez? :s

I sure hope Morrus adjusted the battle


----------



## Eccles

You've not met Morrus, have you?

He's a great believer in fights which go down to the wire!

Still - by this stage the fight's looking manageable. I mean, it's only the bard and two archers facing off against an AC60 undispellable dragon-vampire. With little or no healing available...

What could possibly go wrong?


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Eccles said:
			
		

> You've not met Morrus, have you?
> 
> He's a great believer in fights which go down to the wire!
> 
> Still - by this stage the fight's looking manageable. I mean, it's only the bard and two archers facing off against an AC60 undispellable dragon-vampire. With little or no healing available...
> 
> What could possibly go wrong?




What ELSE could go wrong, anyway...

I can't believe he managed to kill Janga twice in one round - I shudder to think how many hp of damage that adds up to. This is a seriously hardcore end to the campaign.

Can you give us some details of what you did in the very first part of that report, by the way? I take it that it was some sort of Wish effect?


----------



## Eccles

Tallarn said:
			
		

> What ELSE could go wrong, anyway...
> 
> I can't believe he managed to kill Janga twice in one round - I shudder to think how many hp of damage that adds up to. This is a seriously hardcore end to the campaign.
> 
> Can you give us some details of what you did in the very first part of that report, by the way? I take it that it was some sort of Wish effect?





Yeah, it was a wish - artefact level magic again. I think I've only got 3 or 4 artefacts left to play with now...!

I suspect they're all going to come out in the last couple of sessions, too!


----------



## NarlethDrider

wow, fun battle----from the DMs point of view, is it a pain to run high level antagonists?


----------



## Morrus

NarlethDrider said:
			
		

> wow, fun battle----from the DMs point of view, is it a pain to run high level antagonists?




For me personally?  Yes.  I don't claim to speak for any other DMs though.


----------



## Dpulse303

Morrus said:
			
		

> For me personally?  Yes.  I don't claim to speak for any other DMs though.




AHHh you love it really!


----------



## Eccles

As Janga lay bleeding on the dark stone floor and Lashonna towered over Flynne, I began to get worried. I snatched a scroll from my belt and read it, and the blazing power of the enchanted item simply stopped time for me for almost half a minute. During that time, I called on the powers of the _Staff of the Magi_ to summon a towering spider-like demon and then layer several towering walls of fire over the dragon and the dark altar. 

When time rushed back me, Lashonna roared in pain, but the altar was completely unscathed. My summoned bebilith spat webs towards the dragon, aiming to trap her in the fires, but the sticky substance missed completely. I spat curses, as Bob began to swing his sunblade overhead. Flynne joined him, and they both approached her, hemming her into a blazing globe of sunlight from both sides.

There was a sensation as though I’d blinked, and then I looked around. The silver dragon still stood in the flames, but seemed not to be concerned about the heat any longer. Rapidly quaffing a potion of _True Seeing_, I scanned the room and could see her – the dragoness had cast an illusion and moved. 

She was stood within inches of me, silent and breathless; but definitely smiling in triumph.

.oOo.

Yelling in alarm, I dived away from her, shouting out warnings in two languages, one of which caused the bebilith to spray more webs across the wall near the dragon, then triggering the powers of my staff of _sunbeams_, spraying light across her hide which burned her badly. 

My comrades dashed to flank her, light spreading from their whirling sunblades, and she leapt into the air, landing heavily on me. I felt my spine protest and something go in my shoulder as I was smashed to the floor. Despite my agony, I had already cast the blazing light spell, and so I triggered it once again and blasted her once again. Bob closed to encompass her in the still spreading light, whilst Flynne sopped swinging his and fired at her writhing form.

“Drop the sword, or I slay the bard in 2 seconds,” threatened the dragoness, glaring daggers at Bob. To emphasise her point, she ground one bony heel down on my leg causing me to scream and then cast a powerful spell which wrenched away practically all of my energy, leaving me gasping and in pain.

I screamed, and as I prepared to sell my life dearly I triggered the burning spell once again. Lashonna screamed in rage as more of her dry flesh was burned off her bones, and then a second spell was triggered – the _contingent Freedom of Movement_ I had prepared from a scroll a few days earlier.

I slipped easily from Lashonna’s heavy grasp, and leapt away from her reach, grabbing a powerful potion of healing as I did so. 

Frustrated, and still caught in the sunlight which was slowly sapping her powers, the dragon spewed lethal ice-like air at us. Lethal, that is, but for the layers of mystical protections Janga had cast over us before his untimely deaths. 

Once again, the bebilith’s sticky spray missed its intended target, and I burned her with tremendously powerful sunlight whilst gulping down the healing potion and my wounds all but disappeared. Bob tried to keep her locked in place with the sunblade, whilst Flynne continued his steady flow of powerful undead-bane arrows.

Then she cast a spell, and the sunlight flooding from the long blade abruptly winked out. Lashonna growled in triumph. 

Frustrated, I blasted her with another of the sunbeams, at which point the bebilith’s long stabbing arms slashed deeply into the altar’s stone and tore the profane thing into two pieces. The sinuous form of the silver dragon raised her neck un the air and screamed in rage. She turned, and breathed in deeply, ready to freeze us all with icy breath again.

Flynne and Bob both spun, and as Bob’s arrows peppered her neck, and then Flynne shot. Every arrow missed, except one which flew in between her gaping jaws, spearing through the roof of her mouth and into her brain.

Instantly dead, Lashonna crashed to the floor.

.oOo.

I took some time to read a scroll of _True Resurrection_, and recharge the _Staff of the Magi_ by exhausting a weak wand’s magic. We healed, prepared, and climbed a flight of stairs to the next chamber.

We emerged into the corner of a 30 foot high domed chamber whose walls were lined with carvings which showed scenes of a world ruled by worms. The entire chamber was lit with an eerie green glow, and in the centre of the room a beautiful woman stood alone. She turned, revealing a hideous mis-aligned face, leering with one hunched shoulder and half-sized wings sprouting from her twisted back.

“Hemriss,” I mouthed in recognition of Prince Zeech’s daughter even as she raised her bow and began to pull an arrow from her quiver. 

There was a strange hesitance, and a look of horror in her eye as something forced her to attack her.

Flynne, however, didn’t hesitate. His first arrow took her in the forearm, lancing up through her arm from the wrist to the elbow and making her spill her quiver to the floor. The next arrow struck her in the hip and she spun through the air with the force of the blow. As she twisted, the black-scaled elf kept drawing and firing, his arms blurring.

When Hemriss felled to the floor, arrows protruded from her eye socket, transfixed her throat and pierced her chest from back to front and across the side, crossing at the point of her heart. To add insult to injury, a sixth arrow had contemptuously cut through the tendons of her right wrist, as though the misshapen archer’s bow had ever been a threat to Flynne.

“I think…,” I began. “Ah, never mind. Too late…”

.oOo.

Sweeping the room, we learned that the dark energies swirling in the room were focussed onto the destroyed altar in the room below. Unable to change the flow, we moved through a side passage and onto a balcony which went around the edge of the ziggurat. Studded around the balcony were a large number of egg-like sacs, torn open from within and reeking of decay.

We moved onwards and upwards, onto another balcony on the level above, again studded with the same 8 foot tall towering and reeking egg-like things. 

.oOo.

On this new level, we re-entered the ziggurat, into yet another towering room lined with sinister reliefs – this time showing Kyuss’ armies triumphant. Prowling around the room were three tall creatures which seemed like a strange amalgam of worm, lizard, ape and bat. 

Flynne opened up on the closest, and Bob joined in – within seconds arrows peppered its large hide. Janga and I cast spells; his one of summoning whilst mine sealed the creatures into a huge mass of rolling fog which would slow down and trap the two to the rear. 

Some eldritch power of the creatures’ own burst out, and my fog spell was soon streaked with bursts of greenish vapour, whilst the free creature lumbered towards us and exhaled a cone of grey/brown acid, which sizzled and burned around us. We all either avoided the caustic spray, or were once again protected by Janga’s spellcasting. 

Bob fired into the rapidly-emerging fog cloud around the closest creature, whilst Janga’s summoning spell was concluded; a towering air elemental swiftly whisked away the fog cloud around the closer creature, allowing Flynne to blast down a column of fire with the power of his cloak.

I tossed a fireball into the solid fog, which boomed damply and flared for an instant, and one of the two creatures burst out of the fog to breathe more acid over us. I was burned somewhat as Janga’s protective spell failed.

Flynne ignored the fog and fired a series of arrows into the closest creature, rewarded with a series of meaty thunks of solid impact and a crash as it collapsed.

Curing and protecting himself, Janga dashed around the corner into the room, whilst I walled away one of the two surviving creatures with a wall of force. The other lashed out at Flynne with a series of long claw-tipped tentacles. He swore; slurring the words due to some strange draining power of the bites, but kept up his steady stream of arrows – I noticed he was using silver edged arrows now, which bit deeply.

Janga ran back, and cured Flynne with a wand and a word, then they were swallowed into the fog of the approaching monstrosity. I flung a fireball into the fogged area, and a few moments later heard a yell of alarm from Flynne. Bob’s fire tailed off as there was a roar from the other side of the ziggurat, signifying that the last creature had escaped the fog and the force wall to approach us from the other side. 

Chants of healing came from within the fog, and then the sounds of bowfire and another solid crash. The fog cleared over Flynne and Janga. 

The last creature emerged, flying around the outside of the ziggurat and breathed. We leapt away from the caustic spray, and returned fire – Bob’s arrows pinning the creature’s wings and then Flynne emerged from a hiding place to add his accurate shots to vulnerable parts of its anatomy.

The beast, stabbed with a full dozen arrows, died under the assault, and crashed out of the sky, bouncing off the ziggurat as it rolled down the slope.


----------



## Eccles

1 more session to write up. The 66th of the campaign.

Nothing much happens, really.


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Sweet Pelor, you mean it's the _last_ update? *squeal of excitement* 

That battle with Lashonna was truly epic. Life-saving magic effects being triggered at the last second, artifacts being used left and right, and one bad-ass vampire dragon hitting the floor. Well done, Eccles!


----------



## Morrus

Cerulean_Wings said:
			
		

> Sweet Pelor, you mean it's the _last_ update? *squeal of excitement*




Yep - it'll be the very final installment of a two-year campaign!  Just in time to start a 4E campaign, too!

Sadly, the very fnal week (last week) only had three players present.  So wait for the epic tale of how Evan, Flynne and Janga decided to take on a god by themselves...


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Morrus said:
			
		

> Yep - it'll be the very final installment of a two-year campaign!  Just in time to start a 4E campaign, too!
> 
> Sadly, the very fnal week (last week) only had three players present.  So wait for the epic tale of how Evan, Flynne and Janga decided to take on a god by themselves...




I will look forward to it!

I'm sure they have at least a couple more artifacts going spare to use against the god, surely?


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

I just rolled a 20 on my Fort check to avoid having the suspense kill me   

I sure hope the heroic trio's tale ends with a happy ending!


----------



## killjoy68116

I was going to write something funny here, but alas nothings here I guess this post is pointless, well except for the bump


----------



## Eccles

I'll get there. Urrr... I'll blame 4e and my wife's new Wii this week, I think.

Story Recharge   

<rolls a 4>


----------



## stonegod

One thing I find amusing: We started our AoW campaign a year earlier, but because of slowness, were going to finish long after this group... but then we skipped a bunch of the modules and will be finishing this week.

Dawn of a New Age is sure brutal, though...


----------



## Eccles

Janga paused for a few minutes after healing the rest of us and preparing for what was to come next. I could see his lips moved as he _communed_ with Fahrlanghan. A few minutes later, as his eyes snapped open, he looked at Flynne and I despondently.

“Not good?” 
“Not at all. I think there’s a vengeful deity waiting for us just up these stairs, and he’s rather looking forward to talking to us, it seems.”
“Is there anything we should do,” asked Flynne.
“Not really,” replied the gnome. “He’s a deity. He’ll be immune to almost everything we can throw at him, except perhaps fire and sound blasts. Anything he wants to do he can pretty much will into being. It’s a whole world of bad news, I’m afraid.”

There was a pattering of tiny feet nearby. 

“Oh,” added Janga. “And Bob’s got all worried and run off. So there’s only the three of us.”

.oOo.

The air split asunder as a strange rift opened up. Amidst the sound of heavy footsteps, there rode forth a mounted figure – a heavy set half orc figure riding a towering rhinoceros. The rider raised his ugly visor, and saluted.

“Thogg, paladin of Hieronious, here to help, master bard.”

I shrugged. These things kept seeming to happen to me.

.oOo.

Reading a massively powerful scroll given to me by the archmage Manzorian, we were instantly refreshed and prepared as though rested for a full night. Further fortified with spells and songs and accompanied by a towering summoned earth elemental, we climbed the stairs to the floor above, where we reached a 60 foot wide platform. We split up, forming around the black writhing form of an obelisk in the centre of the platform. The obelisk looked to be made of black stone under whose surface writhed thousands of dark green worms, giving us all a strange feeling of déjà vu and foreboding. 

The clouds turned green, and a long sinuous tentacle of clouds reached down from the heavens towards the spire on which we stood. With a ripple of tremendous energy, two torrents of Kyuss worms spewed forth from the side of the obelisk, rapidly forming into the shape of two titanic fists, one of which clutched a blade-edged executioner’s mace.

Instinctively, Flynne started to fire his bow – and every shot simply struck some powerful wardings on the large figure. 

I snatched up a square of material from my bag, and flung it to the floor where it unfolded to reveal a deep pit. Snatching the talisman of control from its wrist sheathe, I urged the _Sphere of Annihilation_ out of the _Portable Hole_, and flung it at the still-emerging face of the evil god.

Amidst a tremendous noise of vacuum and screaming, Kyuss seemed somehow to withdraw on himself and then explode outwards in an anguished burst of energy. Abuptly, the Sphere winked out, and Kyuss was reformed, though somehow lessened in the massive onslaught – and his titanically powerful magical cowl had been destroyed. I then wove a wall of fire over the angry god, but was worried to see that he was almost entirely unconcerned by the inferno he was standing in.

Janga wove two spells, one of counter-magic which seemed to have no effect, and then followed this with a burst of sunlight, which was simply sucked into Kyuss’ black soul.

Both the summoned elemental’s stony fists and Thogg’s enchanted lance-point missed their targets, before Flynne managed to land a couple of serious shots, leaving arrows sticking into the deity’s form like pins in a normal man. 

Worried, I used my dwindling reserves of powerful scrolls to bring time to a halt, and then _wished_ for a _Staff of Power_, which was torn from the aether and filled with magic torn from my very soul. 

Summoning a lesser angel, I passed it the Staff and instructed it to break the item as soon as time was restored. I then layered more and more walls of fire over Kyuss, ready for time to flow once more.

The instant the flames began to move, Kyuss roared in pain as flames licked over his body, and then there was a massive explosion which rocked the tower. There was a powerful wash of magic as the Staff was broken, and yet more of Kyuss was shattered.

I screamed a last spell swiftly, calling on the power of a _Rod of Quickening_ to allow me to scream; but the magic washed over Kyuss even as Janga cast spells of his own. A pillar of holy fire washed down from the heavens, simply parting over Kyuss to no ill effect, and then Janga dashed across the tower.

Spinning into action, Kyuss flung a tiny green worm towards me, which stuck instantly onto my neck like a leech, and began to bite sharply at my throat. Kyuss then turned towards the paladin and gestured – a rush of worms burst forth and slammed into Thogg’s chest. The half orc bellowed in pain, and then kept on shouting as black wormy flames erupted from the ground under him.

Gritting his tusks, the orc levelled his lance and charged in – the lance missed its target, and the orc received a vicious blow from the executioner’s mace for his troubles. 

Only one of Flynne’s arrows struck home, whilst the others glanced off the many enchantments warding Kyuss. Meanwhile, Janga prayed deeply and I could hear his words “let me penetrate the wards and affect this creature with your magics, oh mighty Fahrlanghan!”


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Aw-shome! Nicely done, Eccles, you keep delivering solid epicness 'till the very end 

Now my take on epic battles such as this one:

The good: Stopping time, wishing for a powerful magic item, summoning a servant of the Heavens, conjuring pillars of flame upon a God, then having said servant of the Heavens sunder said powerful magic item. I likey.

The bad: Big Bad Worm God is immune. As in, immune to anything (or most stuff). Reminds me of Final Fantasy bosses (not even final ones!) that were immune to most things. Not much strategy and options if you can't throw much at 'em bad boys. 

By the way, is it me or Janga's final prayer is a _miracle_?


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Oh my word...that is one epic battle, and kudos to Eccles for coming up with all this tricks and strategems!

Can't wait to see how it all turns out!


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

I'm with ya, Tallarn; Eccles has got his fair share of goodies to sunder in the name of saving the world to deadly effect 

Gah, I forgot to mention the Sphere of Anihilation in my post! Oh well.


----------



## Eccles

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Oh my word...that is one epic battle, and kudos to Eccles for coming up with all this tricks and strategems!
> 
> Can't wait to see how it all turns out!




Sadly, my favourite cunning plot was impossible - I'd planned to _wish_ into existence 1000 pints of holy water. We checked with Fahrlanghan before going up the stairs, and Kyuss was immune to Holy Water. Shame. I was looking forward to dumping 2000d4 damage (ref save for half) over the deity and watching Morrus' face!


----------



## carborundum

I wonder if another suicide angel will do something naughty with a portable hole and a bag of holding in the region of Kyuss' face...

Can't wait to find out how this ends! thanks again for the top class writeup!


----------



## Morrus

Eccles said:
			
		

> Sadly, my favourite cunning plot was impossible - I'd planned to _wish_ into existence 1000 pints of holy water. We checked with Fahrlanghan before going up the stairs, and Kyuss was immune to Holy Water. Shame. I was looking forward to dumping 2000d4 damage (ref save for half) over the deity and watching Morrus' face!




Eh, I told you how I'd have rules that; you can't get "wetter" than complete immersion,and complete immersion in lava or acid has always been 20d6.


----------



## Eccles

Ummm... Hose him in some way? I'm sure there'd have been some way around it.  Maybe duct tape the portable hole filled with the stuff around one of his feet...


----------



## carborundum

Waittaminute ... they've got DUCT TAPE???

Kyuss is a goner.


----------



## Quickbeam

*Late to the Game...*

While I'm a bit late in finding my way to your SH Eccles (time away from EN World will do that to you), I wanted to post regarding your group's experiences during the Three Faces of Evil.  I ran this campaign for our group, and reading another version of events is truly wonderful.

For me, your depiction of the encounters near the beginning of the second module brought back a flood of memories.  The methods collectively employed to remove the bells from the skeletons in the initial dungeon guard room were brilliant.  And yet despite your efforts the dire boar nearly brought down most of your party after being released by the tiefling.

Our party made the rather comical and dubious decision to embark on this campaign with NO CLERIC  !!  They felt a druid here, a bard there, along with a pleasant mix of potions and wands would do the trick as things progressed.  Of course, none of those modest healing avenues provide turning against undead foes.  In our game, the encounter you described was absolutely hysterical from my perspective as DM.

First, they failed to recognize the bells on skeleton corpses as a likely early warning system.  When the skeletons arose, they could not be turned (again, no party cleric) and combat ensued while various cultist minions and tieflings responded to the alarm.  The PC's rolled very poorly on their attacks prolonging combat, all the while sustaining a fair amount of damage from the skeletons and cultists.  That's when the Kraken (dire boar) was released into the fray  .  Truly hilarious stuff, although the players didn't think so at the time.  On the plus side, this particular series of events caused me to enter an NPC cleric into the party mix forthwith.

Hopefully you won't mind me chiming in on occasion with anecdotes related to our group's experiences in contrast to your own.  This is an excellent SH and I appreciate being able to sift through the deeds -- and misdeeds -- of your characters.


----------



## killjoy68116

Since I am lazy and hate digging... bump


----------



## killjoy68116

Did I miss the end?


----------



## Dr Simon

Rocks fell and everyone died.


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Dr Simon said:


> Rocks fell and everyone died.





Oh noes! 

Hopefully Mr. Eccles has sufficient time in his day to inform us, avid readers, of the epic conclusion to the adventure path


----------



## Eccles

Blame Mr Miyamoto and his Wii invention.

And the fact that Mrs Eccles got one for her birthday which has been rather eating into my spare time!!

I promise I will get there. I've had several comments on game nights, and have actually had a chasing text from one player who will remain nameless!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

We would very much like to hear how it ends, kindly Mr Eccles sir.


----------



## killjoy68116

I thank you... I hate being a snit, it's just, well, this was my first story hour and I am all a twitter with anticipation


----------



## Eccles

Dashing towards Flynne, I paused only to yell out “wormbane paste!” to nobody in particular, before snatching the tube of thick orange jelly from my enchanted haversack. I slathered the stuff over my neck, and winced as the stuff took effect. The worm at my neck, however, was stilled. As I reached Flynne, I spun on the spot and screamed up at Kyuss; despite the power of the magics I poured into the scream, absolutely nothing happened. 

Shrugging off my magical onslaught, Kyuss unleashed a positive torrent of violence down on the rhino-mounted half orc. As the green-skinned paladin was staggered by the attacks, Kyuss’ cloak gaped wide and swept over him, engulfing him in worms and cloth.

As the rhino-mount disappeared under the black cloak, there was a terrible sound of fleshy tearing. The heavy-set earth elemental cowered away from the massive magics, as the paladin, stripped of all flesh and riding a heavy-set skeletal mount charged forth; the enchanted lance he had been using to assist us now aimed at Janga.

The gnome leapt to one side; his winged boots letting him drift just beyond the tip of the lance, whilst on the other side of the roof Flynne backed further away from Kyuss, firing all the while – arrows peppered the thick cloak yet it looked to have no more effect than a series of ant-bites. 

His winged-boots flapping madly, Janga flew towards his assailant and slapped him lightly. I could see the positive energy blasting the knight, and he collapsed – whatever necromantic energies tying him together having been abruptly severed.

Caught in Kyuss’ tremendous and terrifying aura, I freely confess that I panicked. I stepped off the roof, and as I fell towards the ground, I cast a spell and vanished from the skies and blinked away.

To my shame, I had teleported away from my comrades and left them to face an angry god alone.


----------



## Eccles

I've set myself a bit of a promise to update in small portions - game night tomorrow, so nothing then. 

The one above... Not my finest hour...


----------



## Lord Sessadore

I've just read through the whole story hour in the past week or so, and I must say I've really enjoyed it - good job on the writing, Eccles!  I wish my players would take notes like that! (Or even any notes at all, haha.)  

And you can add me to the list of people patiently waiting to read the epic conclusion to your tale


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

Wahoo, we get update! Main author turn on, thank you Mr. Eccles 

Personally I don't mind if the final update comes in bits, as long as we get the whole story of the desperate group battling a God


----------



## Eccles

In a blind panic, I cast my spell of teleportation again, flinging myself as far as I possibly could away from Kyuss and the sense of horror he evoked. I paused for breath, dropping lightly a few dozen feet into the thick deep stinking mud of a pigsty, then cast the spell once more.

.oOo.

Back in Alhastor, Kyuss blasted Flynne with a river of worms, then span and flung a single worm into Janga’s face where it crawled and began to burrow into his cheek. Kyuss spat words of power, and stripped away huge swathes of protective magics from my comrades.

Again, despite his best efforts, Flynne’s arrows mostly glanced off the god’s cloak; only one striking solidly and raising a bellow of pain from him; even the stings of wasps can bring down a larger creature. 

“Silver,” yelled Janga as he flew across the rooftop and snatched a proffered silver-tipped arrow before stabbing it into the worm which was still digging into his face. 

.oOo.

As the world whirled around me once again, I found myself in an exotic bar where strange songbirds twittered and palm trees waved in a gentle breeze. Strange drinks and fruits mixed with the scent of jasmine, and the dreadful spell of terror Kyuss had inflicted on me was washed away.

Shuddering, I had to know my friends’ fates. I began to dig through my bags to pull out the items I knew I was going to need.

.oOo.

Struck in the neck with yet another tiny worm, Kyuss gestured at the towering elemental, which disappeared abruptly, before he snapped a second disenchantment at Janga, shredding away the last of his protective enchantments.

Flynne kept on shooting at the increasingly agonized deity, and whilst only one of his massively enchanted arrows struck home Kyuss was shuddering, and worms were beginning to fall from his cape.

Janga, meanwhile, healed both himself and Flynne – casting a massive healing enchantment at the beleaguered archer, and once again spilling his own blood with the point of the silver arrow to rid himself of another worm. 

.oOo.

Back in the tropics, I was ready. I read one scroll, and the palms ceased their gentle movements and the waves stopped rolling and time came to a complete standstill. I then used a second scroll to leap back to my comrades.

Seeing that they were still alive, I laid down three interlaced walls of fire tightly around Kyuss.

Time came rushing back, and was then fractured again – it was as though I had blinked and suddenly Kyuss was looking more healthy, and was flying in the air between Janga and Flynne. He waved an arm, and a shimmering wall slammed into place to block Janga from the rest of us. 

I called upon the power of another of the scrolls I held clutched in my fist, wishing for the most potently destructive spell I could think of. 

A roiling black beam lanced into Kyuss’ flank, but failed completely on some hitherto unseen magical protection. 

Janga started to cast another summoning spell, but was interrupted by another blast of worms, and then one settling onto his neck. At the same time, a massive blast of fire poured from the sky over Janga, but he reflexively leapt to one side away from this.

I cast a spell of my own, and brought up a second shimmering wall of force to protect Janga from the angry deity, whilst the cleric dug this latest worm out of his neck and then flew a short distance away to heal himself.

Turning, Kyuss flew through the air towards Flynne, his cloak spread wide as he simply engulfed the black scaled elf into its worm-filled confines as he had the half-orc paladin moments before.


----------



## carborundum

Oh good grief! I can't stand the tension! Will they triumph? Won't they? Will Kyuss ever run out of worms, and why does exposing folks to his armpit do such awful damage?

Another great, supremely concentrated update mate! It's back to nail-biting for me again


----------



## Cerulean_Wings

carborundum said:


> Oh good grief! I can't stand the tension! Will they triumph? Won't they? Will Kyuss ever run out of worms, and why does exposing folks to his armpit do such awful damage?
> 
> Another great, supremely concentrated update mate! It's back to nail-biting for me again




I second that!


----------



## Eccles

We were getting horribly concerned by this stage. We'd blasted off most of our interesting and high-level toys, and whilst Kyuss was definitely hurting, we were struggling. Every single worm he threw at us was taking considerable time and effort to get off ourselves, almost taking one of us every round to keep ourselves alive - it was a "2 rounds and death" sort of deal, so you can see why we were so worried about them!

I just wish I could tell you what happened at the end...


----------



## Eccles

The situation looked dire, and Janga and I glanced at one another. Although Kyuss’ massive cloak was tattered by powerful explosions and his worm-ridden flesh was peppered with arrows, he still glared imperiously and powerfully down at the two of us – all that now stood between the evil god and true dominion of our world. 

Determined to sell ourselves dearly, we gripped weapons and holy symbol tightly, and turned as one to face Kyuss and his writhing, twisting form. 

Suddenly, triumphantly, Flynne burst forth from the dark folds of the evil god’s cloak. Smothered in life-sapping worms, he tumbled out and onto the floor, looking shocked and horrified by his experience. 

Screaming as though released from the very pits of hell, Flynne turned and turned to flee the ziggurat; his scream of despair so utterly terrifying that Janga also turned to flee.

I snatched a well-thumbed scroll from my belt and chanted the words inscribed upon it. The glittering runes faded from the parchment, and both my comrades’ faltering steps slowed as they turned back to the fight. 

Janga turned on the spot to cast a spell of his own, and another roaring column of flame lanced from the sky to wreathe around Kyuss’ shoulders, though the god’s own magical protections were too strong for the gnome’s spell. 

As Flynne turned to aim his bow up at Kyuss once again, he was struck in the face by another stream of worms, whilst with another gesture Kyuss flicked a single worm at me, which instantly started to drive its way into my forehead. 

Driven backwards by the force of the worm-blast, Flynne’s aim was spoiled and his arrow spiralled off wildly. 

Triggering the powers of the Wind Duke’s Ring, I blasted across the room by changing into a bolt of lightning, which had the effect of incinerating the worm drilling into my face, and then I called up a wall of fire over Kyuss.

Blackened and stepping out of the inferno, Kyuss snarled and swept both of his arms up in a gesture of power. A pillar of black rolling flame slammed down on Janga, and just as it was ending, a second blast of dark fire slammed down on the cleric. With an idle gesture, Kyuss threw another worm out to the side without even looking, and it flew across the rooftop to strike me at the throat. 

Out of options to mystically remove the worm which was already digging at my neck, I swallowed hard.

“I wish this works,” I muttered to myself before dashing across the ziggurat’s top towards the angry god. Even as I approached I could feel the spell I had invoked taking effect – perhaps by fate Kyuss’ axe slammed down shattering the stones a foot to my left. I paused to smile up at the worm-ridden face of the evil deity, I jammed my _Staff of the Magi_ into the shattered stones and twisted it down and across violently. 

There was a terrible shattering splintering noise, followed by a tremendous blast of released magic. 

The stone of the obelisk a few feet to my left was reduced to dust before my own mystical protections were overcome. Standing in a hurricane of pure energy, I stared at my hand, as the pain became unbearable. My fingers grew indistinct as the churning blast tore away my flesh, and suddenly all was dark.


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## Dpulse303

its good isnt it....


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## Cerulean_Wings

Sweet Pelor... and that fight wasn't planned, it was all improvised as things went on?  Epic, without a doubt, the most epic fight I've read in a while from a story hour 

Thanks for the update, Mr. Eccles, I'm now anxious to see how things went in the end. Did the group get a happy ending?


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## Mathew_Freeman

Guh...buh...

YOU CAN'T LEAVE IT THERE!


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## Eccles

As the magical storm tore my body to shreds, the blast shattered the magics holding Kyuss’ body together. A million worms were blown apart in the torrent. They fell to earth and began to burrow down – through the spire and shattering the stone of the monolith beneath. 

The worms continued deep into the ground, each taking the most minute portion of Kyuss with them, leaving the god buried and powerless. As if ensuring their own safety, the worms dug outwards to create a network of caverns which would be the source of adventures for hundreds yet to come. 

.oOo.

Hours later, I was awakened to clear skies and celebrating citizens. The creatures of Kyuss had dropped where they stood, and were mouldering and rotting across the city. Hundreds of citizens had stood in silence in the temple square as Janga had cast the complex spells which led to my resurrection. Weak and unarmed, I stood to raise my arm to the crowds there was a cry out.

“Glories to the vanquishers of Kyuss!”

.oOo.

The crowd to the east fell silent as Prince Zeech and his entourage pushed his way through to reach us. 

“You saved Alhastor,” he pronounced with one eyebrow twitching. “You have also brought woe on my city.”

A dark muttering went through the crowd as he gestured at the lands around him.

“Alhastor lies in ruins, and I will defeat those who have slain a God! To the winner the spoils of rulership and godhood!”

As Zeech tore his sword from its scabbard his face twisted in anger and madness.

As he stood before us, preparing to slaughter us all, Flynne emerged from the crowd of people behind him, and a razor-sharp enchanted blade took Zeech’s head off.

Thus was the Age or Worms ended.

.oOo.

As the citizens roared in celebration at their safety and the ending of the life of their mad ruler, the buzz of teleportation magics rippled through the air, and the Circle of Eight materialised amongst us. They brought Allustan with them, and amidst great ceremony the most powerful mages in the world shook our hands.

Sighing, I reached into the depths of my _Bag of Holding_ and pulled out the _Lyre of Building_. There was a lot of work to be done…

.oOo.

EPILOGUE

The city was rebuilt within a few short weeks through the means of spells, items and summoned elementals. King through rite of conquest, Flynne spent a couple of years as Prince, and then a couple more as Tyrant before deciding that he didn’t like rulership. His chosen system was to appoint a Vice-Tyrant to rule in his stead for a year. Successful vice-tyrants were richly rewarded, whilst those who failed to live up to his expectations seemed to meet grisly ends. 

Richly rewarded by ‘his city’, and by his continuing adventures, the black-scaled elf continued his adventuring.

He joined Janga and I as we journeyed through the most difficult of planes to rescue Fez. 

The tiny psychopath had somehow survived in the dark dimensions. His equipment scoured away and bound with several native beasts, we brought him back to the prime material plane with us. Turned even more feral, Fez’s skin was covered in angular black tattoos which he could move about his body to block attacks. Compacted imp-like beings of pure darkness could be formed into blades at his will and cackled as he wielded them savagely in combat.

Together we explored the realms for a year or two more, before Janga moved on to find the path as-yet untrod. I hear from him occasionally as he passes through the multi-dimensional city of Sigil, still searching for his ‘one true path’. 

Fez completed his time with the massive singing spirit we had met on our adventures, and also moved to Sigil, spending his time as an exotic mercenary, and his money on his continued quest for ever larger women. 

Myself? I tried rulership; I built a town on the druidic island we had returned to the inland sea and grew rich on the traders who visited. However, I also grew restless, and have continued my explorations, questing ever onwards for further tales and adventures. 

That is my story, stranger. Now it is late, and an old man needs to warm his bones by the fire. Perhaps you have a few coppers to spare for a teller of tall tales?


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## Eccles

And there I was... done...

Sorry the last bit took a little longer than expected!


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## Cerulean_Wings

Jubilation, it's over! Let us rejoice and cheer for the heroes who-barely-survived 

I'm glad to see you were able to finish it up, Mr. Eccles, thank you for the long, exciting stories about your group


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## Abciximab

Great Job in both the story and the game. It's great to read a story hour from beginning to end and yours was quite enjoyable.


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## Mathew_Freeman

Many many congratulations on completing the story hour, and I love the little details of "what happened next!"

It's been a hell of a good read, and I've really enjoyed it. I hope you decide to chronicle the 4e game I believe you've started, and if you do I'll be sure to read it.


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## Morrus

Woohoo!

I'm proud of that campaign.  Two years, and I think we all enjoyed it immensely.


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## carrot

Encore! More! More! ...oh wait... 

Bravo, on a great story told well. Looking forward to the next one


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## Eccles

We finished KotS last night, and from the way it's gone so far I'm not too sure that I'd be minded to chronicle it - the last fight alone we had 5 deaths and 2 natural 20 death saves. It got bad enough that Morrus allowed us to encounter a second adventuring party and for them to pile into the fight!

The character turnover rate is so blinking high that there'd be no continuity for a Story Hour!

(Though I was heartily amused by Janga's player (who managed to get killed twice in one round at epic level) managing to get 2 characters slaughtered within 2 turns at 2nd level...)


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## Mathew_Freeman

Eccles said:


> We finished KotS last night, and from the way it's gone so far I'm not too sure that I'd be minded to chronicle it - the last fight alone we had 5 deaths and 2 natural 20 death saves. It got bad enough that Morrus allowed us to encounter a second adventuring party and for them to pile into the fight!
> 
> The character turnover rate is so blinking high that there'd be no continuity for a Story Hour!
> 
> (Though I was heartily amused by Janga's player (who managed to get killed twice in one round at epic level) managing to get 2 characters slaughtered within 2 turns at 2nd level...)




Would this include a certain Irontooth, by any chance?


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## Morrus

Tallarn said:


> Would this include a certain Irontooth, by any chance?





Nah, they kicked his ass when they met him.

This was the final enoer of KotS (Kalarel, etc.)  As characters died, I allowed new adventurers to appear at the top of the chain leading down to the temple (members of a second adventuring party).

Best moment of the night: the dragonborn fighter who climbed down the chain, charged Kalarel, missed, got a glimpse of the Deathlock Wight's _horrifying visage_, and was slid three squares straight into the portal.  All in one round.    Shortest character life ever!


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## Mathew_Freeman

Morrus said:


> Nah, they kicked his ass when they met him.
> 
> This was the final encounter of KotS (Kalarel, etc.)  As characters died, I allowed new adventurers to appear at the top of the chain leading down to the temple (members of a second adventuring party).
> 
> Best moment of the night: the dragonborn fighter who climbed down the chain, charged Kalarel, missed, got a glimpse of the Deathlock Wight's _horrifying visage_, and was slid three squares straight into the portal.  All in one round.    Shortest character life ever!




Ow, ow, ow, etc. That's just nasty. Ow.


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## Eccles

The amusing bit is that he was played by the same guy who played Janga, who now holds the records for: -

Most deaths in a single combat round (2 - Janga)
Shortest ever character life - Dan the Dragonborn (less than one round of combat)
Most character deaths in a single game session (3 characters in rapid succession)


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## Morrus

Eccles said:


> The amusing bit is that he was played by the same guy who played Flynne, who now holds the records for: -
> 
> Most deaths in a single combat round (2 - Flynne)
> Shortest ever character life - Dan the Dragonborn (less than one round of combat)
> Most character deaths in a single game session (3 characters in rapid succession)




Not Flynne - that's Dave.


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## Eccles

Good point. Sufficiently embarrassing that I've gone back and edited the original post...


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## Morrus

Eccles said:


> Good point. Sufficiently embarrassing that I've gone back and edited the original post...




And yet the post still says Flynne! 

I think you need a relaxing holiday, Nik.  What, with this and the coup de grace thing, you're batting well below average right now!


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## Eccles

Oh. Oops. only changed one of 'em...


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## Dpulse303

lol.
Glad thats all cleared up then.
Thankyou for finishing the story Nik tis a good read from start to finish.


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## Dpulse303

Morrus said:


> Best moment of the night: the dragonborn fighter who climbed down the chain, charged Kalarel, missed, got a glimpse of the Deathlock Wight's _horrifying visage_, and was slid three squares straight into the portal.  All in one round.    Shortest character life ever!



This had me literally ROFLMAO .
I was in bits !
New adventuruers just kept sliding down the chain , wading into combat and dying.


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## De Fish

To Wampuscat 43

Why do you awake me from the murky depths of my sleep to walk the ground again?
It is perilous for mortals to evoke past lives. But having summoned me, I am here. 
Jamie Fish


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