# Jodo Kast Does The Adventure Path



## Jodo Kast (Aug 16, 2002)

_All things roll here: horrors of midnights,
Campaigns of a lost year,
Dungeons disturbed, and groves of lights;
Echoing on these shores still clear,
Dead ecstasies of questing knights-
Yet how the wind revives us here!_
                            - Arthur Rimbaud

This is yet another Story Hour that follows the exploits of heroes through the Adventure Path modules published by Wizards of the Coast.  If your Dungeon Master intends to run any of these adventures, be advised that this Story Hour contains massive spoilers.  For those who choose to read on, I hope you enjoy these chronicles and that you will find our trek down the Adventure Path quite unlike any other that has gone before.


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## cthuluftaghn (Aug 16, 2002)

*Woohoo!*

*patiently awaits the introduction for the star of the campaign*


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 17, 2002)

*THE SUNLESS CITADEL* 
*Part 1: Brynja Arrives In Oakhurst; A Meeting With Kerowyn Hucrele* 

Brynja arrived in the small town of Oakhurst in the late afternoon several days before Midsummer.  The morning had been beautiful, with a sunrise deserving of a portrait, but as she neared Oakhurst the day darkened.  The town itself was quiet as a library, and the gray light which fell between the few small buildings clustered around the road softened and blurred the shadows, causing the town to appear old, tired ... _faded_.

When Brynja left Oakhurst with her father more than a decade before, she was a tall, gawky, towheaded lass of twelve winters.  Her hair had darkened since, becoming the lustrous auburn of finished cherrywood, but her bangs remained blonde, falling to chin length on either side to frame her attractive face.  No longer the awkward girl who once called Oakhurst home, Brynja was now lithe and graceful, her body lean and muscled.  Gone was the simple peasant's dress of her youth, replaced by the outfit of an explorer, scale mail, a buckler, leather breeches, high boots and a light cape.  A heavy crossbow was strapped to her back, and a longsword hung at her side.  The girl who once played with dolls on her father's farm outside of Oakhurst was a swordswoman now.  And she was, perhaps, the only hope her childhood friends Talgen and Sharwyn Hucrele had left.

                                                   * * * *

Twenty minutes after arriving in town, Brynja sat in a stiff-backed chair in a well appointed office.  Across a large desk sat a stern-faced matron, her silver-streaked hair worn in a severe bun and a permanent scowl dragging the corners of her mouth downward.

"Thank you for coming, Brynja," Kerowyn Hucrele sighed heavily.  Her children's friendship with the grubby farmer's daughter had brought her much displeasure through the years.  Truth be told, that had a great deal to do with her purchase of Brynja's family farmstead more than a decade ago.  Kerowyn paid more than a fair price for the land, and Brynja's father left Oakhurst with his daughter in tow.  Over the years couriers would occasionally deliver some missive from Brynja in her new home town of Blasingdell to Talgen and Sharwyn, and Kerowyn knew that the children wrote to their old friend as well.  She suspected that Brynja's chosen profession as a swordswoman in service of the Blasingdell watch had influenced her children's foolhardy pursuit of adventure.  She had seen the blood rise in Talgen's cheeks at the mere mention of Brynja's name, and guessed at his intention to court her someday.  Because of all this Kerowyn despised the peasant girl, but now she had need of Brynja's swordarm.

"I came right away, Mistress Hucrele," Brynja replied, her voice shaky with concern for her old friends.  Her feelings for Talgen and Sharwyn were strong and sincere, and so she either did not notice the disapproving tone in Kerowyn's voice or chose to ignore it.  "How can I help?"

"A little more than a month past two so-called adventurers arrived in town, full of grandiose ambition and foolhardy notions.  Sir Braford was a headstrong, self-righteous devotee of Pelor.  His companion was an elf, some sort of wild woodsman.  Kerakas, I believe was his name.  The two of them somehow convinced Talgen and Sharwyn to accompany them into the depths of the Sunless Citadel, certain that they would find wealth and glory.  I warned them that the Citadel was a place of death, but they failed to heed my words.  They delved into the Citadel a month past, and were never seen again.

"I sent for rescuers almost immediately, of course.  I learned of two mercenaries of some notoriety, one a dwarven arcanist with the might to drive goblin hordes before him single-handedly, the other a half-orc more powerful than any ten men.  They should have been here several weeks ago, but they never arrived.  That is why I sent for you.  You are the last hope my children have.

"Go for them, Brynja.  I will assemble a party to accompany you, the best I can do in these dangerous times.  If you find and return my lost children you will be rewarded handsomely, 250 gold pieces per child, for each of you."

Brynja's eyes flashed blue and bright and hard at Kerowyn Hucrele.  She was insulted that the old merchant offered her gold to go to the rescue of her best friends in the world.  It struck Brynja as particularly gruesome that Kerowyn could so callously place a price on the return of her own children, as if this were no different than any of her myriad business transactions.  But had Kerowyn not always been that way, throwing gold at all of her troubles, buying anything and anyone that stood in her way?  Brynja averted her gaze to the floor and continued listening.

"If they cannot be returned, then at least bring to me the gold signet rings they wore.  Of course, the reward will be halved if they are not brought back alive."

Brynja drew a deep breath, struggling not to trade harsh words.  "Of course I will go after Talgen and Sharwyn, and I shall bring them back _alive_.  I'll set out at first light tomorrow."  Brynja stood, shouldered her pack, and left the office without another word.  There would be a meal and a warm bed for her at the Ol' Boar, and she would be well rested for the dangerous quest awaiting her.

Kerowyn's eyes narrowed as Brynja departed, and she rose from her desk.  She had more recruiting to do, and precious little time before sundown ... and the coming of the monsters.


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## madriel (Aug 17, 2002)

Excellent as ever, Jodo!  You've got a real flair for setting a scene as well as showing the emotions behind the characters.

Are you going to introduce the characters one at a time like Tales from the Outer Rim?


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 17, 2002)

Thanks Madriel!  Glad to have you on board.  For the most part the characters will be introduced one at a time, ala Tales from the Outer Rim, except two of the characters will be introduced together as they were in the actual game.


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## madriel (Aug 20, 2002)

Glad to hear it.


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## PaynAndispare (Aug 20, 2002)

Nice !!

Gotta love it when a person you don't like is the only person you can turn to.

Looking forward to seeing what is up with the kids.


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 24, 2002)

*THE SUNLESS CITADEL* 
*Part 2: Tothla In The Ol' Boar* 

Gloom, shadow and silence hung heavy in the air of the Ol' Boar Inn.  The place was full of townsfolk, but they sat huddled together in small groups as if trying to stay warm.  There was some low, uneasy conversation, but Tothla had presided over more raucous funerals.  Hundreds of them.  Literally.

If the townsfolk had been perturbed before, they became even more apprehensive as one by one they took note of Tothla's entrance.  The stranger was wrapped in a cloak the color of charcoal, but where it fell open they could see it had a deep red underlining, and the hem at the bottom was yellow.  He had lank black hair that fell to his shoulders, high cheekbones, and angular, hawkish features.  His face was smeared with some sort of gray ash, which was applied more heavily around the eyes to form dark black circles that called to mind the empty eye sockets of a skull.  He wore a chain shirt, and over that a high-collared tunic.  The tunic was gray with yellow trim, except for a large, coffin-shaped swath of red on the chest.  Inside the red was the image of a skeleton in gentle repose, its head slightly tilted as if contemplating the single yellow rose it held in its bony hands.  These were the vestments of a priest of Sheol, Lord of the Grave.

Their faces turned white as they stared at Tothla.  One woman swooned, and the frail old man seated next to her barely caught her in his arms.  The worship of Sheol was not widespread in this part of the world, and so these folk were largely unfamiliar with the garb of his priests.  To most of them, it seemed as if the Reaper himself had just entered the inn, and in these strange times such an event certainly seemed possible.  Only some of the old-timers regarded Tothla with curiosity rather than trepidation.

Tothla walked deliberately to the bar at the back of the room.  The old barkeep nodded as Tothla approached.  "Seen your kind before, priest.  Once, many years ago.  They came on the Old Road, and hailed from the Farsouth.  Asked a lot of questions about the Sunless Citadel.  They were missionaries, spreading the word about your god.  Hard to sell death to folks, though, and they moved on without any converts."  The barkeep lowered his voice.  "They did put old Wyl to his final rest though, and for that this town was thankful.  I'm Garon.  What do you call yourself, stranger?"

"I am Tothla," answered a voice as deep and resonant as a tomb, and as mournful as wind through a graveyard.  "I am in the service of Sheol, the Gardener, the Guide, the Guardian of Souls."  Tothla looked back at the room and saw that all eyes were fixed upon him.  Turning back to the barrel-chested barkeep, Tothla observed, "Your streets are empty, and it is not yet dusk.  Why do these folk cower here like frightened lambs when a wolf is about?"

"These are troubled times, friend.  The cattleherders don't graze their stock too far afield these days.  They're frightened by stories of monsters that maraud by night.  Not the goblin bandits of the Citadel, either, we have an understanding with those thieving buggers.  No, something nobody has seen, creatures that leave no trail.  Cattle, and even a few people who have been caught out alone, have been found dead the next day, their bodies pierced by dozens of needlelike claws.  Oakhurst hasn't had a scare like this since old Wyl."

Tothla's eyes met Garon's and he lifted one brow quizzically.  Garon lowered his voice even further.  "Years ago, an addled old hermit lived outside of town.  He kept mostly to himself, him and his daughter, in a little shack he had.  He was crazy, a bent old man, always muttering to himself, but never hurt a soul ... not while he was alive, anyway.  

"One winter came a storm the likes of which this town had not seen in perhaps a hundred years or more.  Old Wyl and his daughter were snowed in up in his shack, and the crazy bastard hadn't put up enough food to last the winter.  His daughter died up there, whether it was fever or starvation nobody will ever know, nor does it much matter.  When the first thaw came and some herdsmen cleared a path to Wyl's shack to check on him, they found him curled on the floor wailing like a banshee, his daughter's body clutched close to him.  She had been dead for a while, but Wyl wouldn't let her go.  When the men finally wrestled him down and took the body, they saw that there was flesh missing ... bites ... something had been eating at her.  Then they realized that old Wyl, already crazy and even more mad with grief and hunger, had started eating his own daughter.

"Old Wyl didn't live long after that.  When he died we buried him on a hill, not in the little town graveyard, and we left seven stones as a marker.  A few nights later, something started getting into the chicken houses in the farms outside of town.  Not a fox.  No, this was messy, blood and feathers everywhere, the whole coops destroyed.  Some people talked about a strange figure lurking around the town graveyard at night.  Some folks even said that it was crazy Wyl, cursed to rise up because he had tasted the flesh of his own daughter.  Still, I didn't believe it until I saw old Wyl myself.

"My pap owned this inn back in those days, and I was in my youth.  I was drinking with my friend Rowlan, and we were both deep in our cups.  We were stumbling through town, singing tavern songs and howling at the moon, when Wyl came at us, or a creature that had once been Wyl.  His skin had turned to gray, and was drawn tight to his bones.  He was moving and looking at us in a way that was more like a wolf than a man, cunning and wild.  His eyes burned like hot coals down in their sunken sockets.  The worst part was that smell.  He smelled like rotten dirt.  Wyl stunk of the grave from whence he had crawled.  I pissed myself then and there, right in the middle of the road.  Wyl moved fast.  He lunged at us, clawed us."  Garon tugged his tunic down, revealing four long, hideous scars on his chest.  "I couldn't move.  Couldn't do anything.  I could only watch while Wyl snarled like a dog and drug off Rowlan.  But even as he was dragging Rowlan off, even then, Wyl had already started eating."  

A tear welled up in Garon's eye, and it was a moment before he continued.  "About that time those fellows showed up in town.  The ones who dressed like you.  Some folk blamed them for old Wyl rising up from the grave.  But they explained that their god despises the undead, sees them as a mockery of both the living and the dead.  Said that aside from guiding souls to their final reward, the most important thing for them was to make sure that the dead _stay dead_.  They told us that Wyl had become a ghoul, but that they could put him to a final rest.  And that night they went on a hunt, and I don't know how they did it, but we never saw old Wyl again."


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 24, 2002)

Here is a portrait of Tothla that I commissioned from the excellent Claudio Pozas.


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## Malessa (Aug 24, 2002)

Great read Jodo!  You have me on the edge of my seat waiting for more!


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 25, 2002)

Thank Malessa!  We've got another session today (as you know since your hubby's a player in the game), so I'll soon be even further behind on my updates.


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## NiTessine (Aug 26, 2002)

Good story. Excellent writing and interesting characters... You've got yourself a reader.


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## madriel (Aug 26, 2002)

That was really creepy Jodo.  You captured the nervous atmosphere of the town perfectly.  More please.


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## cthuluftaghn (Aug 26, 2002)

Good session today!  Looking forward to the write-up.  Should make for a good story... exciting, dramatic, and often comical.


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## Rhialto (Aug 27, 2002)

I have to say I like Sheol....

Are we pretty much looking at a "good guy" version of Nerull...? (Which I have to say is a hell of a good idea.)  And is the traditional Greyhawk death god out of the picture...?


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 27, 2002)

We've mixed up the gods a bit for this campaign, Rhialto.  We're using a fairly generic game world based on the locales in the WotC Adventure Path modules, rather than Greyhawk proper.  I've used many of the Greyhawk deities presented in the Player's Handbook, but Nerull has given way to Sheol, a LN death god.  Sheol was created by the PC who plays Tothla, with some input from me.  Sheol's priests use a modified death domain, and have the granted power to detect undead at will.  Readers will learn more about Sheol here as the story unfolds.


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 27, 2002)

*THE SUNLESS CITADEL* 
*Part 3: Renaelus Imprisoned* 

Renaelus sat moodily on a bunk in his small, neat jail cell, his head in his hands and his face turned toward the wall opposite the cell door.  It was a thoroughly humbling experience to be imprisoned in a backwater town like Oakhurst.  Renaelus still could not believe he had been caught.  The job had seemed like such a sure thing.

Renaelus stood up and paced the cell a bit, looking very much like a caged cat.  He was young, with short, spiky, disheveled hair and a boyishly handsome face.  Though not a large man, powerful muscles rippled beneath his skin, honed from years of strength and agility training.  Renaelus was very serious about his chosen profession, and he was well on his way to becoming one of the best second-story men in the business.  At least, he had been before coming to Oakhurst.

The job was supposed to be simple.  While in Brindinford, Renaelus had learned of a wealthy merchant in the small town of Oakhurst.  A little research revealed that the merchant, Kerowyn Hucrele, maintained little or no security, and that the constabulary in Oakhurst was hopelessly incompetent.  After performing some simple surveillance he learned that Kerowyn Hucrele kept a small fortune in coin and jewels locked away in a chest on the second floor of her business in Oakhurst.  For the nimble rogue, scaling the wall to the second floor and removing the iron bars securing the window there proved to be child's play.  He had crept stealthily into the building and found the chest almost immediately, securely bolted to the floor.  The lock was good, but he was better, and he even spotted and disarmed the small needle trap before opening the chest.  Inside were sacks bulging so with coins and valuable baubles that a broad grin spread across Renaelus' face and he breathed deeply of his victory.  Unfortunately, what the rogue had not noticed when he opened the chest was the fine cloud of dust that filled the air.  As he began removing sacks from the chest more dust was emitted into the air and Renaelus' nose began to twitch.  He noticed the odd cloud of dust around him then, but it was too late.  He was soon violently sneezing, wheezing and choking.  He was so wracked by coughing and sneezing that his body buckled and collapsed to the floor, and he felt as if his ribs would crack from the strain of his spasms.

That was how the town constable, a tall, stern half-elven woman named Felosial, and her deputies had found him.  And so the aspiring burglar had come to be confined to a tiny jail cell in a hayseed town in the middle of nowhere.  The shadows were lengthening.  It would soon be night.  Renaelus sighed heavily and turned to the barred door of his cell.  "What's for dinner, fellows?"

The two guards outside his cell looked up from their game of lanterloo.  The men were yokels, and it frustrated Renaelus that they sat on the other side of the bars, free to come and go as they pleased, while he was in a cage.  Given enough time, he would surely find a way to outwit his captors and escape.

"After I win this hand, Jym's going to fetch some stew from the Ol' Boar," said the one named Ben, a short, fat, middle-aged man with a long, curling gray mustache.

"You're going to lose the hand, and you're going to have to fetch the stew yourself, you fat old quail.  I'm not goin' out after dark, that's fer sure."  Jym was tall and narrow, with buck teeth and a bright red shock of hair growing in every direction on his head.

"Why are you two hobnails so scared of the dark all of a sudden, anyway?"  Renaelus had noticed that the mood of his jailors had darkened over the last several weeks, and they had said little during that time.  On the occasions Felosial would check in she seemed distracted and anxious.  Something strange was afoot in Oakhurst.

"Some of the cattleherders around here have disappeared lately, their cattle too.  They even found a few folks dead, all tore up like ...."  Jym was silenced by a tap to his forehead from Ben's beefy pointer finger.

"How many times has Felosial told ya to keep quiet about that business?"  The fat man threw down his hand of cards in disgust.  "Looks like I'll be fetching the stew after all."

Just as Ben rose from his seat, the door opened and Felosial entered.  "Hey beautiful," called Renaelus.  He had made a game of making catcalls at Felosial to get a rise out of her.  Anything to make his interminable confinement go by more quickly.  This time Felosial did not offer one of her usual sarcastic retorts, but instead stood with her arms folded resolutely across her chest.  Renaelus saw that another woman had entered with Felosial.  Not just any woman.  It was Kerowyn Hucrele.

"So this is the little man who tried to rob me.  He does not look like much, Felosial, but as you insist you have no men to spare he will have to do."  Kerowyn Hucrele frowned as she approached the cell and looked in on Renaelus.  Sensing an opportunity, Renaelus straightened and offered a disarming smile.  In response, Kerowyn Hucrele's frown only deepened.

"I have convinced the good constable here to let you free if you will perform a small task for me, rogue."  The woman fairly spat the words.  "My two children have disappeared in the old ruins south of here.  If you will join an adventuring party in finding them, you will earn your liberty and a fair bit of coin, though not as much as you sought to take from me."

"Madame," said Renaelus, bowing deeply.  "I am at your service, and will do my best to return your children to you safely.  My freedom is all that I ask."  In his mind he was busy calculating how many miles from Oakhurst he would be by dawn.

Kerowyn Hucrele issued a humorless laugh.  "So there is honor among thieves yet, eh?  If I have learned anything in my life, it is that nothing engenders loyalty except wealth.  Love of liege or lady is a passing fancy, but I have yet to meet a man who does not have a price.  I suspect yours is a rather cheap one.  250 gold coins for each child you return alive and well.  Half of that for their signet rings if you find them beyond aid."

Renaelus' eyes widened.  500 gold coins was not a fortune, but it was a start.  Perhaps he would linger in the vicinity of Oakhurst long enough to collect this reward after all.  "I would be honored to assist you in this matter, milady."

Kerowyn Hucrele instructed Renaelus that at first light he would be escorted to the Ol' Boar Inn, where he would meet a woman named Brynja.  Brynja would lead the expedition in search of her missing children, Talgen and Sharwyn.  That night Renaelus slept peacefully for the first time since his capture, and dreamed of freedom and the open road.


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## Piratecat (Aug 27, 2002)

Wow, I love the description of Tothla! What a fun way to introduce a character.


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## Horacio (Aug 27, 2002)

What a great beginning, Jodo Kast, I love you tactic of introducing the PCs one after the other


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## madriel (Aug 27, 2002)

And that's how you get a shifty rogue to stick around.  Your group comes up with fantastic characters.  Same players from your Outer Rim campaign?


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## Malessa (Aug 27, 2002)

Another great intro!  I'm definately hooked now!


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 27, 2002)

Piratecat and Horacio, glad to have you aboard.  I've enjoyed both of your story hours so it is an honor to have you check in on my own humble efforts here.  

Madriel, the character of Tothla is played by the same person who brought us Detten Harcrov in Tales from the Outer Rim.  The player for Jirair Gann from Tales from the Outer Rim is also involved in this campaign, but his character, Krunk, has not been introduced yet.  His real life brother plays the character Rune, who also has yet to be introduced.  My wife plays the Brynja character.  Cthuluftaghn, author of _DM Cthulu's RttToEE Campaign_, plays the character of Renaelus.  That rounds out our party of five.

Glad you are enjoying the story hour, Malessa!  I'll try to keep the updates coming regularly.  We finished another session this weekend so I have plenty of material.


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## cthuluftaghn (Aug 27, 2002)

Hmmm... rather ignoble way to join the adventure.  Then again, all true heroes have humble beginnings.  Renaelus shall prove his worth soon enough!


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## Knightfall (Aug 27, 2002)

Hey Jodo, don't forget... the World of Kulan is waiting for ya!

Cheers!

p.s.  BTW, I've never played through the Adventure Path.  How much of your story hour contains spoilers?  I don't want to ruin any future gaming I do with a friend of mine.


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 27, 2002)

Knightfall, this story hour will contain massive spoilers for the adventure path modules.  It is pretty much unavoidable.  The introductions so far cannot really be called spoilers, but they will begin soon.  So I understand completely if you choose to wait on the sidelines for now.  Meanwhile, I'll try to check out Kulan tonight.


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## Rhialto (Aug 27, 2002)

Jodo Kast said:
			
		

> *We've mixed up the gods a bit for this campaign, Rhialto.  We're using a fairly generic game world based on the locales in the WotC Adventure Path modules, rather than Greyhawk proper.  I've used many of the Greyhawk deities presented in the Player's Handbook, but Nerull has given way to Sheol, a LN death god.  Sheol was created by the PC who plays Tothla, with some input from me.  Sheol's priests use a modified death domain, and have the granted power to detect undead at will.  Readers will learn more about Sheol here as the story unfolds. *




Sounds great.  I'm all for neutral Death gods...

And I'd love to know exactly what gods you are using...


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## Knightfall (Aug 27, 2002)

Jodo Kast said:
			
		

> *Knightfall, this story hour will contain massive spoilers for the adventure path modules.  It is pretty much unavoidable.  The introductions so far cannot really be called spoilers, but they will begin soon.  So I understand completely if you choose to wait on the sidelines for now. *




Dern it, I was afraid of that... 

Oh well, spilt milk and all that.



			
				Jodo Kast said:
			
		

> *Meanwhile, I'll try to check out Kulan tonight. *




I just updated, BTW.

Cheers!


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## (contact) (Aug 28, 2002)

> Brynja drew a deep breath, struggling not to trade harsh words. "Of course I will go after Talgen and Sharwyn, and I shall bring them back _alive_.




D'oh!  

These modules are really bare bones as far as setting and backstory goes (as they should be, IMO), and it sounds like you have good roleplayers in your group.

This should be fun.  I started reading this thread because I thought your name was "Judo".    Good stuff.

Are you updating as you go?  When did you begin this campaign?

Also-- are your players reading this thread?  Since so many of us have read/played in these modules we might need to be careful about spoilers . . .


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## Malessa (Aug 29, 2002)

Ok, you've got me hooked, so where is the next intro? Hmmmm?


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## Rel (Aug 30, 2002)

Jodo, your Story Hour so far is just plain awesome.  I have had little time to read the Story Hours that I would like to lately (much less update my own).  But the quality of your writing and the attention to detail you add is like a DM's clinic.

You might just have inspired me to get on the stick and post a long overdue update to my SH.  Of course, my innate laziness combined with the fatigue of having a 1-year old child may conspire to make me a liar.  Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time.

In any event, keep up the good work and know that I'll be reading.


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 31, 2002)

Rel, thanks, that's high praise coming from you!  (contact), thanks for checking in.  My players will read this from time to time, so hopefully there won't be too many spoilers dropped for them.  They are currently near the end of the Sunless Citadel, so anything beyond that would be a spoiler at this point.

Look for a new post late this evening, folks.


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## Malessa (Aug 31, 2002)

*Kewl...*

Looking forward to the update!  B and I will check back later.

E-mail us re: tomorrow's game.  Had to switch to Monday due to sitter availability.


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## (contact) (Sep 1, 2002)

Jodo Kast said:
			
		

> Rel, thanks, that's high praise coming from you!




But you know, he's right.  In a lot of ways, reading this forum is like taking a little DM  seminar.



> (contact), thanks for checking in.  My players will read this from time to time, so hopefully there won't be too many spoilers dropped for them.




I will keep my big mouth (keyboard) shut.


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## Jodo Kast (Sep 1, 2002)

*THE SUNLESS CITADEL* 
*Part 4: Tothla's Dream* 

Upon hearing mention of the Sunless Citadel in the Ol' Boar Inn, Tothla's curiosity was piqued.  He recalled an illuminated manuscript in the House of the Dead, the temple to Sheol in far away Dubsdread.  The tattered pages of that text spoke of a powerful northern vampire staked to the earth ages past in a remote stronghold.  According to the tome, the once-proud fortress fell into the earth, and its echoing, broken halls were rechristened the Sunless Citadel.

"Odd that you should ask about the Citadel," Garon began.  "About a month ago some strangers arrived in town, a paladin and an elf, also asking questions about those old ruins.  They got Talgen and Sharwyn Hucrele all stirred up with stories of the place, and they all set out to explore it, but were never seen again.  Last time anyone else asked me about that place was over a decade past.  I remember that fellow well.  Strange, grim fellow named Belak.  He had a very large pet frog perched upon his shoulder.  Haven't seen him since, neither."  Garon did not have much more information about the Sunless Citadel, but told Tothla that Oakhurst's resident healer, Dem Nackle, might know more.  Tothla thanked him and was off.

The healer dwelt in a low, neat, thatch-roofed structure adjacent to the Ol' Boar.  Tothla entered to find a wizened female gnome in the midst of an intense conversation with a middle-aged human woman.  "I've told you before, Kerowyn," said the gnome.  "I care for your children, but I simply cannot abandon my flock here, especially in these dangerous times.  Besides, I'm an old healer, not an adventurer.  If there is something in the Citadel that Talgen, Sharwyn and their friends could not handle, I certainly would be overmatched."

Both women stopped abruptly and looked to Tothla.  The color drained from the human woman's face, as if she had seen a ghost.  The gnome rubbed her pointy chin with her hand as if trying to remember something, then her face lit up.  "Oh yes, you must be a Sheolite!  We don't see many of your ilk this far north.  Welcome!  I am Dem Nackle, but you may call me Corkie."

"Thank you, madame Nackle," said Tothla in his haunting voice.  "My name is Tothla, and I am indeed a Sheolite.  I hail from Dubsdread in the Farsouth, and I am something of a missionary.  I am here to spread word of our faith, and teach priests of other denominations certain burial rites and other methods for preventing the rise of the dead."

The gnome listened intently, but the human woman seemed annoyed by the interuption.  Tothla turned his attention to her, and she shrank away from his penetrating gaze.  

"I am sorry to intrude upon your conversation, but I believe I heard mention of a citadel.  Do you speak of the Sunless Citadel?  I would know more about that place."

The gnome began speaking rapidly, seeming excited to share her knowledge.  "The Old Road runs right past the Sunless Citadel, but has fallen into disuse because of goblin banditry.  Old legends hint that the Sunless Citadel once served as the retreat of an ancient dragon cult, but no one knows for certain what its purpose might have been.

"I do know that it is infested by a goblin tribe.  Once every midsummer, the tribe ransoms a single piece of magical fruit to the highest bidder in Oakhurst.  They've been doing this for some twelve years now.  The fruit, an apple of perfect hue, heals those who suffer from any disease or other ailment.  It is more potent even than my own healing abilities.

"We have tried planting the seeds at the center of the fruit, hoping to engender an enchanted tree of our own.  When the seeds germinate in their proper season, they produce a twiggy mass of twisted sapling stems.  Not too long after the saplings reach two feet in height, they are stolen.  Every single one of them.  We believe it is the work of the goblins, jealous of their...."

"You know," interrupted the human woman, seemingly recovered from her initial fear of Tothla, "if you wish to learn more of the Sunless Citadel firsthand, I am organizing an expedition to travel there in search of my children.  It sets out tomorrow, and I am sure that a man of your abilities would be extremely useful.  In addition to gaining the answers you seek about the Citadel, I am offering a generous reward."

Tothla considered the offer momentarily.  It troubled him that the town, so near the spot where an ancient vampire of significant power was dispatched, was now besieged by some unknown evil.  It was probably just a coincidence, but if this had anything to do with the undead it was Tothla's duty to investigate further.  Tothla agreed to join the rescue party, and was told to meet a woman named Brynja in the Ol' Boar at first light.  The human woman, Kerowyn Hucrele, departed, leaving Tothla to discuss the current threat to the town of Oakhurst with Corkie Nackle.  Corkie agreed to take Tothla to the graves where the victims of the mysterious killer were interred.  There he performed a sacred burial blessing to ensure that the dead would not rise.  He did not have any evidence that the murders had been the work of the undead, but one could never be too cautious in these matters.

* * * *

Tothla found himself walking through Oakhurst.  The town was silent as a tomb, and the sliver of waning moon was barely visible through low, wispy clouds.  Though slightly disoriented and confused, he knew exactly where he was headed.  To the graveyard, to perform burial blessings.  It occurred to him that he had already tended to this earlier that day, but oddly that seemed not to matter.  

He was soon walking the path that wound through the small graveyard.  Most of the tombstones were relatively plain and uniform rectangles of chiseled slate.  There were several that were more elaborate, but it was for the most part a very common small town burial ground.  It was too dark to read the names of those interred.  Here and there Tothla noticed that some graves had not even been marked with proper tombstones, but rather with odd little piles of stones.  Each marker was made up of seven small stones. 

The little path wound on for an impossibly long distance.  The graves seemed to stretch on forever.  Tothla did not remember the cemetary being this large, but he proceeded as if not surprised.  There were grave markers as far as the eye could see along the path, until eventually in the distance the graveyard was enshrouded with a thick, roiling fog.  The path became wild and ill kept as Tothla went farther, and he realized he was in a dark wood, the town of Oakhurst now far behind.  His boots were caked with the mud of the poor path.  Tothla saw that there were very few proper gravestones now, and more and more of the crude seven stone markers.  Then he noticed with some unease that many of the stone markers were scattered haphazardly, as if strewn about by children playing at some gruesome game.  Worse, some of the muddy graves showed signs of upheaval, as if someone had been digging at them ... or _something_ had clawed its way out of them.

Tothla sensed the creatures behind him before he saw them.  He turned about sharply.  There on the path were ghouls, vile gray creatures with skin drawn tightly across their bones, sharp teeth, and red, burning eyes.  They advanced, and he took a step backwards, looking over his shoulder.  Now he saw that there were ghouls on the path in either direction, and he swallowed hard and gritted his teeth.  He clutched his holy symbol, a small replica of the coffin-shaped insignia on his tunic, in one hand.  In the other, his grip tightened around his weapon, a solid, heavy mace with a head in the shape of a skull.  Raising Sheol's symbol high, Tothla roared the words of turning and expected to watch the ghouls flee before him.  They only grinned, displaying their wicked teeth, and closed in on him.

Terrified, Tothla stood there swinging his mace in a broad defensive sweep, silently warning the ghouls to keep at bay.  They were nearly atop him, their clawed hands outstretched and their red eyes burning feverishly.  Tothla uttered a small, choked cry and fled from the path into the forest, the ghouls in pursuit.

The strange forest was populated by short, twiggy masses of twisted sapling stems.  The fog swirled about them, and in it the bizarre little trees seemed to writhe and reach out for him as he passed.  Pale, spindly briars coated with tiny barbs pressed close.  Then he came upon _the_ tree, a singular tree of evil, and the ghouls were promptly forgotten.

Its blackened, twisted limbs reached upward like a skeletal hand clawing its way from the earth.  The fog moved eerily among the tree's branches, creating the illusion that the tree was in motion, though no wind was blowing.  He heard one sound coming from the tree, the low but persistent beating of a heart.  Tothla was moving toward the tree even though he was no longer walking forward.  Or perhaps the tree came to him.  It reached out with its grotesque limbs and embraced him, and he found himself thrust into darkness ...

Tothla was in a dim defile.  A stony fang thrust up from the canyon floor.  Wider at the base, it slowly narrowed toward its apex, where it terminated in jagged stone splinters.  Though its tip must have been some 300 feet above the canyon floor, the cliffs on either side were five times as high, cloaking the spire in shadows.  Its sides were carved with stone gargoyles, demonic faces, porticos, ledges, and other baleful textures.  Above all was the sound of a heartbeat, growing increasingly loud.

Tothla was now inside the sinister tower, in a large chamber, standing on a narrow catwalk that gave way to dark oblivion.  A disembodied heart, the size of a small hut, hung near the ceiling, 45 feet above the narrow catwalk girding the massive chamber.  The heart burned with a cold, black flame, which provided the chamber's only illumination.  Suddenly from behind the giant heart appeared a man in an impossibly long cloak which whipped about as if animated with a life of its own.  The man wore strange dark goggles, and had long, flowing hair and a goatee.  His skin was alabaster, and as he smiled Tothla saw that his teeth were actually cruel fangs.  He approached Tothla, floating through the air with ease, the hearbeat maddeningly loud.

* * * *

Tothla awoke in a sweat.  The dream had been horrifyingly real, and he was left with the impression that it was a vision of sorts.  Looking out his window he saw that it was still night, with several hours left before first light.  He closed his eyes and pulled the sheet up to his chin, but it was a long time before he was able to drift back to sleep.


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## Horacio (Sep 1, 2002)

I love dream sequences... Great update (at last an update  )


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## cthuluftaghn (Sep 1, 2002)

The in-game description of the dream was appropriately spooky.  Tothla's player takes his  role seriously, and really brings Tothla to life.  His reaction to that dream sequence has a marked effect on a lot of his decisions throughout the rest of the session.  Great roleplayer!


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## Jodo Kast (Sep 4, 2002)

*THE SUNLESS CITADEL* 
*Part 5: Rune And Krunk; Twig Blights* 

Rune hated orcs.  Hated them with a passion.  When the dwarf was but a small child, a powerful orc tribe learned the secret of his clan's hidden stronghold.  The orcish chieftains raised a great army and marched on Khundrukar.  In a hard-fought siege lasting months, the orcs tunneled around the dwarven defenses and stormed the place, putting all within to the sword.  Rune's clan was slaughtered.  He only escaped their fate because, just before the orcs broke through the last dwarven defenses, his mother sent him up a natural rock chimney so narrow that only a child or halfling could hope to negotiate it.  From the hilltop above, Rune wept quietly as he listened to the death cries of his clan.  It was the last time the dwarf had cried, and it was a century past.  Yes, Rune truly hated orcs.

A fierce looking orc stooped over Rune's prone form as the dwarf slept fitfully by a small campfire that night.  The dwarf groaned in his sleep and the orc reached out a clawed hand toward his face.  One long finger was placed across the dwarf's lips, and a gentle voice that belied the savage face said softly, "Don't worry, Rune.  It be all right.  Krunk be watching good."       

In truth, Krunk was only half orc.  His other half was human, though he towered over most men, and his muscled frame made him a good bit heavier as well.  His grayish pigmentation, sloping forehead, jutting jaw, prominent teeth and coarse body hair made his lineage plain for all to see.  He was scarred, his arm bearing a mark of servitude from his time as a slave among the orcs.  Krunk had lived a hard life, and in all his days his only friend had been the volatile dwarf now resting at his feet.  How he had come to travel with a dwarf who hated orcs so was a strange tale, and one best left for another time.    


* * * *

The dream was always the same.  Rune was a child again, holed up in Khundrukar during the final minutes of the orc siege.  His grandfather was already dead, killed during the bloodiest battle of the siege.  Now there were few defenses left, and it was only a matter of time until the orcs smashed through and finished the job.  

Rune's mother smiled and choked back tears as she placed her child in the chimney and urged him to climb.  He refused to go at first, bravely standing his ground with his grandfather's axe clenched in both hands, the weapon almost half as heavy as the boy.  But he was a dwarf, and he would honor his mother's demand even if he disagreed.  He looked down at his mother one last time and began to climb, his grandfather's axe strapped to his back.  The chimney was rough and narrow, easy to climb for the young dwarf, though he was somewhat scraped and bloodied when he emerged on the hillside.  Then came the sounds of battle, and the horrible cries of his people, as the orcs mounted their final assault.

Then came the part Rune could not understand.  He dreamed he was back in the chimney, crawling through it, but he was larger now, an adult, and he was scraped and covered in blood from the rough, craggy surfaces of the narrow tunnel.  But as he emerged from the end of the tunnel he was not on that hillside, watching the sun set into a blood red sky, but rather in an enormous dark cave.  And there was the dragon, a giant red.  It saw him, and its cruel mouth formed something akin to a wicked smile.  Its head reared back, its neck lunged forward, the mouth opened and then came the flame, seething, blazing, burning ....

* * * *

... shaking, shaking, shaking.  "Rune," came the voice in a whisper so loud it was almost comical.  "Wake up Rune!  Somethin' out there.  Krunk scared."

"Agh!" spat the dwarf.  "Orc breath!"  What a wonderful way to wake up, he thought grumpily.  Then he remembered where he was.  The two were on their way to Oakhurst to accept a mercenary job.  Sure, Rune had slightly embellished their history.  Maybe he had not conquered goblin tribes single handedly, yet.  Maybe Krunk was not quite as strong as any ten men.  But he was certain they were qualified for the job, and besides, they could use the reward money.  Problem was, they were late arriving.  There had been too much ale in the last town, and that small unfortunate incident with the constable, and then Krunk had gotten them lost in the wilds.  They had picked up the road and were almost to Oakhurst now.  They pitched a small camp that night, figuring if they got an early start they would make Oakhurst well before noon.

"Well, what is it, half-breed?" Rune hissed.

Krunk pointed to some nearby foliage.  There was a sound like wind blowing through dry leaves, and Rune almost dismissed the noise as nothing.  Almost, until he noticed that there was no wind blowing at all that night.  Rune slowly rose to his feet.  Krunk gripped the haft of his greataxe.  The two began circling to either side of the fire, just outside of the light, and toward the noise. 

Suddenly two strange creatures erupted from the foliage.  They were treelike creatures slightly shorter than Rune, their leafless branches interlocking to create sinister humanoid shapes.  They attacked with barblike claws.  Krunk deftly evaded a swipe of claws.  Rune was not so lucky, and the claws of the creature nearest him opened a gash on his forehead.  Blood and some weird sappy substance trickled down from the wound, and he felt a sharp burning sensation.  

Hearing Rune bark in pain, Krunk roared and heaved his greataxe high above his head, bringing it down and cleanly splitting the bizarre little monster before him in half.  All that remained of the creature was a loose bundle of snapped and broken twigs.

Krunk rushed to assist the dwarf, but Rune was not helpless.  The stout, red-bearded dwarf stepped back from his foe, his sleeveless yellow drover's coat swirling about him and his blue eyes blazing with a light of their own.  He thrust his hands forward, thumbs touching and fingers spread wide.  A thin sheet of searing flame shot forth from his outspread fingertips in a semicircular burst.  The flames ignited the monster and it uttered an inhuman shriek that sounded like rusty nails being ripped from an old, dry board.  Rune grabbed his grandfather's axe.  The monster staggered toward the dwarf and swiped at him, but the stubby sorceror easily stepped aside.  It took but one deft stroke of the dwarven waraxe to fell the creature, and its shattered remains burned out on the ground.

"Well, half-breed," said Rune, panting from the evening's unanticipated exertion.  "Either they don't make treants like they used to, or we've discovered some new abomination."


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## Rel (Sep 4, 2002)

Well, Jodo, another fine installment.

The way you are tying the story hooks to the different modules together in advance is simply artful.  As I mentioned before, the whole thing reads like a "how to" manual for GM's looking to tailor a series of adventures to a particular group of characters.

I recently borrowed The Sunless Citidel from a friend of mine and I'm going to be running my wife's character through it as a solo adventures (with an NPC or two thrown in).  I am itching to see your group tackle it now that I've read it cover to cover.

Keep the updates coming.


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## wolff96 (Sep 4, 2002)

*Re: THE SUNLESS CITADEL: Rune And Krunk; Twig Blights*



			
				Jodo Kast said:
			
		

> *"Well, half-breed," said Rune, panting from the evening's unanticipated exertion.  "Either they don't make treants like they used to, or we've discovered some new abomination." *




That's classic! It sounds like you've got a great group. I'll be interested to see how things go -- the introductory messages alone are worth reading!

Keep up the great work.


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## cthuluftaghn (Sep 4, 2002)

Ah yes.... Rune and Krunk.  Played by real-life brothers.  Their back and forth interaction supplies ample entertainment for the whole party.  I only know them through out D&D sessions... still haven't figured out if they're just playing in-character, or if they're always that way


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## madriel (Sep 5, 2002)

Two great updates, Jodo.  Sounds like the brothers will be a great addition to the group.


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## Jodo Kast (Sep 10, 2002)

*THE SUNLESS CITADEL* 
*Part 6: The Old Road*

The next morning Renaelus arrived at the Ol' Boar Inn wearing manacles.  He was escorted by the fat deputy Ben, as well as a short wiry deputy named Lu.  Each of them gripped one of his arms as they guided him through the entryway to the inn.  Ren saw that Kerowyn Hucrele was there, dark circles under her eyes and her lips pursed tightly together.  She was standing near another woman, this one a real looker, young and unflinching.  That would be Brynja, he reckoned.

Brynja's eyebrows raised into thin crescents at the sight of the shackled prisoner being thrust into the room.  Renaelus shrugged the oafish guards free and stepped several paces into the room before bowing, hands still manacled behind him.  "Renaelus at your service, ladies."

Brynja watched skeptically as Ben unlocked the constraints that bound the roguish young man.  Ren massaged his wrists for a while and rolled his shoulders, feeling the blood flow return to his hands.  "I ...," began Brynja hesitantly.  She sighed.  The fat guardsman handed the thief a rapier in a worn leather scabbard, and though he surely was no warrior his blade might help deliver her friends.  

"I am Brynja."  Brynja extended her hand and Renaelus took it.  She applied some force and he gripped back, more firmly than she had anticipated.  Perhaps he would prove useful after all.  "We are expecting one more, a priest I believe...."

The words died on Brynja's lips as she saw the mysterious man emerge from the stairwell leading to the inn's guest quarters.  This could not be ... certainly not ... but looking at Kerowyn Hucrele she saw that it was.  The merchant was actually sending her off with a thief and what appeared to be some type of necromancer or death cultist.  Just perfect.  She whispered a quiet prayer for Talgen and Sharwyn.

"Not scary guy, right?" asked Renaelus softly, his eyes wide.  Brynja just nodded as the man slowly approached.  Renaelus shook his head, shrugged and summoned up a smile.  He swaggered forth, and gave the stranger an audacious wave.  "Scary guy!  Welcome aboard," he called.

The newcomer cocked his head at a funny angle, assessing Renaelus with eyes that gleamed brightly from the depths of dark ashen circles.  In a haunting voice that raised the hair on the back of Ren's neck, the man said, "I am Tothla, humble servant of Sheol.  You may not know my master yet, but you shall someday."  With that introduction he stepped forward and offered his hand, which Renaelus pumped quickly, released, and backed away from.  

Brynja stepped into  the space where Renaelus had stood and shook Tothla's hand resolutely.  "I'm Brynja.  This is Renaelus."  Brynja reached into her pack and withdrew two stoppered flasks, tossing one to each of her new companions.  "Healing elixir, courtesy of our employer, Madame Hucrele.  She has also agreed to purchase whatever mundane supplies we shall require from the general store.  We must make haste, however.  There is precious little time to spare."

The three obtained several useful items from the general  store, and soon set off on the overgrown Old Road.  The road wound through rocky downs, near stands of old-growth oak, and past several abandoned farm shacks.  On one low hill Tothla thought he saw a pile of scattered marker stones near the fallen remnants of a hovel, but when he looked again the sunlight shone brightly in his eyes and he could not tell if it had been his imagination.

After half a day of walking, most of it spent in silence, the three arrived at a ravine that ran for several miles in either direction.  The Old Road passed to the east of the narrow ravine.  At the road's closest approach to the cleft, several broken pillars jutted from the earth and the ravine widened, opening into something more akin to a deep, narrow canyon.  Two of the pillars stood straight, but most of them leaned against the sloped earth.  Others were broken, and many bore crude writings in an alphabet the companions could not discern.  

"Don't need to know what they say," muttered Renaelus, "to understand what they mean.  'Keep out.'"


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## Horacio (Sep 10, 2002)

Jodo, I must say that your Adventure Path is the one of the most most detailed I've read. And I've read a lot...


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## Rel (Sep 10, 2002)

Keep 'em comin', Jodo!

I'm probably starting the Sunless Citidel two sessions from now in the solo campaign I'm running for my wife.  I'm drawing bigtime inspiration from your Story Hour.


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## Jodo Kast (Sep 10, 2002)

Wolff96, Madriel, Rel, Horacio ... thanks for the kind words.  I'm going to try desperately to catch up over the next week or so.  We have a session on Sunday, and I don't want to get too far behind.  

My notes are poor for the first portion of the Sunless Citadel proper, so I'll do my best to reconstruct the action.  Renaelus (cthuluftaghn) did a great job taking notes at our most recent session, so details shall become clearer as the heroes progress into the depths of a place where evil grows.

Rel, let me know how your solo run goes!  Good luck.  The nice thing about these Adventure Path modules is that they are what you make of them.  There is plenty of good stuff there, and with a little imagination and effort they can be a lot of fun.


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## wolff96 (Sep 11, 2002)

Sounds like they're almost ready to start... not to mention, almost ready to meet my favorite adventure path NPC.

When I ran Sunless Citadel, I switched Meepo over to monk -- I don't remember why, it made sense at the time -- and the party loved the little guy. In fact, he made a cameo appearance much later in the campaign, riding Calcryx. It will be very interesting to see how your PCs react to him.

(As one of my PCs commented later: "It's annoying that an NPC, played by the DM when he has time, has more personality than <one of the other players>.")


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## Rel (Sep 17, 2002)

In a shocking instance of the pot calling the kettle black, I'm popping in to beg for another installment of your Story Hour, Jodo.

I now hang my head in shame.


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## Rel (Sep 27, 2002)

I'm still keeping the faith, Jodo.


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## ShawnLStroud (Sep 27, 2002)

*And the Next Thing....?*

Love the intro to the Sunless Citadel, Jodo!  Looking forward to see how your stalwart heros deal with the multitude of threats therein!

Anxiously awaiting your next input!


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## Horacio (Sep 28, 2002)

Rel said:
			
		

> *I'm still keeping the faith, Jodo. *




I'm losing it


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## Malessa (Oct 18, 2002)

Hmmmmmmm

*bump*


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## MacMathan (Jun 9, 2004)

Just my luck to find a great looking story hour a year or two late :\


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