# JollyDoc's Age of Worms!



## JollyDoc

Because you demanded it, loyal readers!  Here begins the next chapter in our epic campaign!  Join us once again, as we set off on the road to adventure with new friends, and perhaps some old faces!  Settle back, relax, and prepare to enjoy the AGE OF WORMS!!

PROLOGUE

The trip to Waterdeep had been long and uncomfortable.  Giovanni Vito, former heir to one of the richest merchant houses of Sembia, could not have foreseen that he would be forced to ride in the belly of a trading vessel along with   unwashed commoners.  Then he remembered the names hurled at him like red-hot daggers:  Cursed…Fiend-thrall…Warlock.  He remembered the disgrace on his family, and their rejection of his talent.   He remembered the expulsion from the family manse as an apostate, wielder of an unholy power.  He was only 16 years old at the time.  The memories branded his soul, the pain from which still numbed him.

Giovanni could not explain where his power came from, or when he even became aware of its presence.  What he could recall were the dreams, the nightmares he experienced from an early age.  The images were elemental and gruesome, dominated by monsters with leathery bat-like wings, creatures with long claws dripping with the blood of their victims, or other visions too horrifying to have been created by his sleeping mind.  Always in the distance, a lone figure stood.  Humanoid in shape, the shadowy figure lurked, hands wreathed in the same eldritch energy that Giovanni was learning to summon and control.  Could he be the shadowy figures in his dreams, or was it someone else, perhaps an ancestor that had damned him by making a pact with such dark forces?  In either case, he was unable to discern whether the figure in the distance was the fiends’ ally, their enemy, or, more dreadfully, their leader.

Over the next four years, Giovanni stayed within the larger cities, his nose buried in books of dark lore.  When questioned of his motives, the boy would simply respond that he was an investigator and researcher of the Occult.  Studying dragons, arcanists, magical beasts, undead, and outsiders were his trade, or so he would claim.  In reality, he was more concerned with learning about the darkness within himself.  Whether his powers were in league with the wishes of some cruel deity or powerful outsider, or whether he was just some sort of arcane aberration were unknown to him.  Given the proper research, Giovanni was going to answer the questions as to the origin of his powers, and he was going to learn to control those powers.  His knowledge was growing, but the warlock was beginning to comprehend that the more he learned the less he truly understood.

The accommodations were far more suitable than the cozy cell prepared for him by the Grand Pasha of Calimport.  As open-minded as the Calishites were to magic, spell-gifted beings such as Giovanni were treated with suspicion and cruelty.  Beings of Djinn ancestry were widely accepted in Calimshan; beings with ties to the fiends of the lower planes were not so embraced.  Fleeing in the night, Giovanni hastily accepted passage on a cargo ship headed north up the Sword Coast.  It was with great hope that Giovanni traveled to Waterdeep.  The City of Splendors was renowned as being a haven for the ‘differently abled’, and its vast libraries could possibly help the young warlock.

The boat rocked, shaking Giovanni from his reverie.  The young man’s spectacles, unremarkable to those not able to detect the presence of magic, slipped to the edge of his nose.  Annoyed, the warlock reset the glasses and returned to his reading.  The book resting on his lap, titled simply “A Treatise on the Faezress and Effects on Underdark Travel”, had been spattered erratically by water dripping from the deck above, a fact that irritated Giovanni further.  The book had been a waste of time, hardly worth even stealing from the Grand Pasha’s library.  It was obvious that the author, some hack by the name of ‘Volo’, had no idea what he was talking about.  He was more interested in talking about the inns and mead halls of Deep Shanatar than the nature of the Underdark’s protections against teleportation.

A loud splash was audible through the walls of the chamber.  The crew had dropped anchor.  The hatch leading to the outer deck swung open and light poured into the dark room.  A burly sailor, complete with an eye patch, grunted into the hold.  “Get out, you’s!  Welcome to Waterdeep!”  The other passengers around him began standing, stretching, collecting their meager belongings.  Giovanni’s possessions were limited primarily to his clothing which, while of high quality, was dirty and stained from the travel.  He knew that much of what he wore was of magical quality, but this was a fact that he tried to cover up or conceal.  His tunic, scarf, glasses, and cloak were all magical.  If the sailors aboard knew of their value there would be no way that they would have let him leave the boat fully clothed.

Giovanni stepped out on to the main deck of the galley.  The sunlight burned his eyes for a moment, but he quickly adjusted his sight.  The city was immense!  He had been told that they would arrive in a place called the Dock Ward, but he had figured it to be a few piers.  Waterdeep extended as far as his vision carried.  A warlock could easily get lost in a place like this.

As he stepped off the gangplank and on to terra firma, Giovanni peered into his belt pouch.  Eighteen lonely gold coins looked back up at him.  This would not do.  There was no way that a man could make it for long on such a pittance.  Sighing and biting his lower lip, the warlock began to ponder his situation and a possible solution.  As he did so, a single piece of parchment floated by on the wind and softly struck his lower leg.  Giovanni reached down to swipe it off, but something about the paper caught his eye.  Gripping it with both hands, he began to read.

“WANTED:  Competitors willing to prove their mettle against foes in gladiatorial combat.”  Interesting, thought Giovanni.  The young warlock continued walking north as he read.  Apparently, he had arrived in time for Waterdeep’s yearly gladiatorial competition, complete with substantial gold winnings and a prize called ‘The Champion’s Belt’.  The prospects were most intriguing.  There was the issue of finding a licensed team manager, but Giovanni figured that he might luck upon one of those.

As he walked north, the warlock began running scenarios through his mind regarding the Champion’s Belt tournament.  It was obvious to him that due to his relatively famous family name, it might be best if he used an alias.  Understanding the flair expected in the arena, this alias should be something simple yet striking.  Grinning inwardly, Giovanni decided that the name would hint at the extra planar and chaotic nature of the power that he wielded.  He would call himself “Havok”.
_______________________________________________________

Giovanni spent the next several days in the City of Splendors putting out feelers and letting it be generally known throughout the seedy Dock Ward that he was an aspiring competitor looking for a manager.  

One evening, while seated alone in the taproom of the Splintered Stair inn, the young warlock’s attention was drawn from his open book for a quiet, clearing of a feminine throat.  Glancing up, his breath momentarily caught in his chest at the sight of the woman standing over him.  She was dressed in the manner of most of the inhabitants of Dock Ward; rough, worn clothing over boiled leathers, but her eyes were depthless and hypnotic.  A small, gold ring pierced her full, lower lip.  It took the young warlock a moment to notice that she was not alone.  A handsome, though rather short fellow, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, stood behind her.  He was dressed in a fine, blue robe, and polished knee-high boots.  A well-made lute was slung over one shoulder.  

“I understand that you are in need of a sponsor,” the woman began without preamble.
Giovanni took a moment to clear his throat before speaking.  “Er…yes.  That’s right.  Please, won’t you sit down?”  The woman pulled out a chair, and her companion joined her.  “My name is Celeste,” she said, her piercing gaze never wavering.  “I know that you call yourself Havok,” at this, a small smile creased her pretty mouth.  “Allow me to introduce Ekaym Smallcask.”  The short man nodded.  “Ekaym,” Celeste continued, “is a merchant on an extended stay in Waterdeep.  He has procured a manager’s license for the Champion’s Games, and he is recruiting fighters.”  She turned expectantly to Ekaym.  “Just so,” he said jovially, “It promises to be quite the spectacle, or so I’m told!  Opportunites abound, both financially, and…romantically.”  He winked knowingly at Giovanni.  The warlock kept his expression carefully neutral.  “What are your terms?” he asked.  “Ah, a bottom-line man!” Ekaym laughed.  “I like that!  Well, the standard managerial fee is, ah…fifty percent of all winnings.  In return, I shall provide you with sponsorship, contacts, should you care to place any wagers on the games, healing should you need it, and, of course…a team.”  

Giovanni leaned back in his chair.  Of course he would need to be part of a team.  He hadn’t really given that aspect much consideration, but it only made sense.  He pondered the situation for a few moments, then shrugged and extended his hand to Ekaym.  “I agree.”  “Excellent!” shouted Ekaym.  “I’ll come round tomorrow evening at this same time to fetch you and introduce you to your new team mates.”

Celeste rose, and Ekaym followed her.  As the strangely beautiful woman turned to leave, she spoke one last time to Giovanni.  “If you acquit yourself well in the tournament, I may have need of your services again in the future.”


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## Solarious

Ha! I knew it! The Age of Worms has come! XD. You couldn't resist in the end, couldn't you? 

Oh well. Let's start in the middle, right? Because all good stories start in the middle. Seriously.


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## hbarsquared

Does anyone recall what Gimli said, at the end of _The Fellowship of the Ring_ movie, after Aragorn says, "Let's hunt some orc"?

It was kind of a laugh/warcry in the very strong affirmative.  A guttural, excited,
_*Yes!*_

Me.  In front of my computer.  Doing just that.

Ahem.

Thank you, JollyDoc.


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## LordVyreth

Excellent.  I'm glad the urge to write proved too strong.  So this ocurred after the death of a PC that you mentioned in the other SH?  Would it be possible to have a recap of earlier events, either as told in flashback or just an OOC summary?


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## Krud

Congrats and thanks for your new story hour... 

I'm a long time lurker, but you just forced me to post to show my support


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## ltclnlbrain

Glad to see you changed your mind about the story hour.  I look forward to reading the exploits of your group; perhaps it will motivate me to update my own Age of Worms story hour.  I do plan on it, when I find some time...


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## Ero Gaki

Yay!!!


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## gfunk

*Table of Contents for JollyDoc's Age of Worms*

*Prologue*

*Champion's Belt*

Let the Games Begin
Round One 
What Has Gone Before . . . Part One
What Has Gone Before . . . Part Two
Round Two
Ekaym's Request
Round Three
Endgame

*Gathering of Winds*

You Can't Go Home Again
Avengers Disasemmbled
Comes the Crusader

*Character Sheets*

 Giovanni, Level 8 
 Giovanni, Level 9 
 Giovanni, Level 10 
 Dwilt, Level 8 (May he Rest In Peace)
 Hawk, Level 9
 Vladius, Level 9 (May he Rest in Peace)
 Holocaust, Level 10


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## gfunk

As an added note, let me just say that JollyDoc threatened me with PC death unless I contributed to this SH 

I'll post my PC char sheet when I get a chance.


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## Neverwinter Knight

*YOU FIENDS !!!*

*Just when I thought that I was out they pull me back in...*


OK, I am going to add more, but first I'll...well, read the first installment, YEAH BABY!!!


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## Neverwinter Knight

Cool beginning. It gives you the chance to do a short recap of the previous story, too. Also: Celeste is back - I wondered what she was doing, when she's not introducing fake dwarven grandpas to adventurers.

Anyway, thanks for writing again, thus letting us participate in your campaign.





			
				gfunk said:
			
		

> As an added note, let me just say that JollyDoc threatened me with PC death unless I contributed to this SH
> 
> I'll post my PC char sheet when I get a chance.



Looking forward to your stats. JD, have his character beaten by a kobold, if he doesn't want to write an installment...


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## Ika_Greybeard

Well here we go again I think everyone will enjoy this Story Hour so far we have had alot of fun playing it. It seems to have a little bit more comic relief around the table than shackled city did which I like. I guess JD has Killed everyones PC so many times in other games that we just try to keep it funny and laugh it off. I think I have a total of 4 Back up characters made up incase of Death because around here it happens alot. 
   So welcome to the misadventures of our Sunday Night Gaming Group. I hope everyone has much fun reading this story as we have fun Playing it.  



                                                                                         PYRO


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## Graywolf-ELM

Nothing like a good story hour to help stir the desire to play D&D and write about it yourself.

Here here.

GW


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## JollyDoc

Yeah, yeah...the more I read the feedback for Shackled City, the more browbeaten I felt.  Each Sunday at the game table I found myself thinking, "Wow, that would look cool on the story hour."  So, here we go again.  

Our group has thouroughly enjoyed this AP so far, and yes, I will be recapping what has gone before...never fear.  You, the readers, will, for a time, be seeing things through the eyes of Giovanni, and just as young Havok has to still discover the mysterious backgrounds of his new 'team mates,' so do you my friends.  Let's all wish our warlock well...he doesn't know what in the Nine Hells he's gotten himself into...


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## Richard Rawen

*Huzzah!*

And there was Much Rejoicing!

no, Really!
  

ok, now to get to reading!


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## Joachim

*Giovanni Vito, aka "Havok" (Warlock 8)*
----------------------------------------------------------------------

*Medium Humanoid (Human)*
*Hit Dice:* 8d6+16 (46 hp)
*Initiative:* +4
*Speed:* Move 30' (6 squares)
*Armor Class:* 18 (+4 Dex, +4 Armour), 14 touch, 14 flat-footed
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +6/+5
*Attack:* _Eldritch Blast_ +10 ranged touch (6d6)
*Full Attack:* _Eldritch Blast_ +10 ranged touch (6d6)
*Space/Reach:* 5 feet/5 feet
*Special Attacks:* Invocations
*Special Qualities:* Human traits, _Detect Magic_ (Sp) at will, Deceive Item, DR 2/cold iron, Fiendish Resilience 1
*Saves:* Fort +8, Ref +7, Will +7
*Abilities:* Str 8, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 16
*Skills:* Concentration +18, Knowledge (planes) +11, Knowledge (religion) +11, Knoweldge (arcana) +11, Spellcraft +13 (+20 to identify scrolls with _detect magic_), Use Magic Device +14 (+21 for any check involving scrolls)
*Feats:* Noncombatant (Flaw), Absent-Minded (Trait), Sudden Still Spell, Sudden Maximize Spell, Mortalbane [Eldritch Blast], Spell Penetration, Maximize Spell-Like Ability [Eldritch Blast]
*Environment:* Urban
*Organization:* Solitary or Murder (Gfunk, Ika et al)
*Challenge Rating:* 8
*Treasure:* Goods
*Alignment:* Chaotic Good

_Before you stands an unarmed and unassuming bookish young man of no more than twenty years, complete with thick spectacles.  As he clenches his fist, you swear that his hand is bathed in a sheen of dark energy. _

Giovanni was a member of a wealthy Sembian merchant family but was disowned for dabbling in the dark arts of the warlock.  He spends his days buried in books, trying to learn the secrets of his fiendish heritage as well as to hone his dark magical skills.

*COMBAT*

_*Detect Magic (Sp):*_ Giovanni can use _detect magic_ at will.

*Deceive Item:* Giovanni can take 10 on Use Magic Device, even if stressful situations would not normally allow him to do so (such as combat).

*Eldritch Blast (Sp):* The first invocation acquired by all warlock is the _eldritch blast._  The eldritch blast is a ranged touch attack that is treated as a 1st level spell and has a range of 60 feet.  At Giovanni's current level of power, his eldritch blast deals a base of 4d6 damage (6d6 with his _Greater Chasuble of Fell Power_).   

*Invocations (Sp):* Giovanni has acquired a small number of invocations that he can use.  Invocations are identical to spell-like abilities, with the exception that they have somatic components (only).  Invocations can be used at will with no limit in uses per day.  Giovanni has access to the following invocations:

*Least:*

_Eldritch Spear:_ The range of _eldritch blast_ increases to 250 feet.
_See the Unseen:_ Grants Darkvision 60 feet and _see invisibility_ (24 hour duration).
_Dark One's Own Luck:_ Grants CHA bonus to one save (included with Fort save above, 24 hour duration).

_*Lesser:*_

_Walk Unseen:_ Use _invisibility_ at will (24 hour duration)
_Flee the Scene:_ Use _dimension door_ with close range (25 feet + 5 feet every 2 levels) at will, and leave behind a _major image_ of self in its place.

*Fiendish Resilience (1):* As a free action once per day, Giovanni can call upon the dark forces to heal his wounds.  He gains fast healing 1 for 2 minutes (at higher levels the healing increases incrementally up to fast healing 5).

*EQUIPMENT*

_Greater Chasuble of Fell Power, +1 Cloak of Protection, +1 Ring of Charisma, Gloves of Fortunate Striking, Tunic of Steady Spellcasting, Spellsight Spectacles, Wand of Cure Moderate [26 charges], Wand of Cure Light [50 charges]_.


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## JollyDoc

Much thanks to Joachim for Havok's stats, since we've been introduced to him already.  I will, however, ask my remaining players to refrain from posting their stats until after their characters have been officially introduced in the SH, which will be in the next post, which should be...soon.


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## Neverwinter Knight

Joachim, care to elaborate on your abilitiy scores? Dex 18?


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## Spider_Jerusalem

Try as I might, I can't help but get sucked into this SH. 

Having somehow missed Jollydoc's other threads entirely I'll be in something of a bewildered mode. But, the first post is a goodun' and looking forward to more.

Spider.


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## Joachim

Dex 18 is from a base of 16 and then 2 added at 4th level and 8th level, respectively.

I have only really played this character for 1 session, and he has made out very well thus far, under somewhat artificial circumstances.  Over time, I will be able to give my final opinion on the viability of the Warlock, although Gfunk protests thus far that he is not impressed with the class (not necessarily Havok, per se).  Maybe I can change his mind...

So far, this AP has been pretty fun I must say.  I hope that you liked the Prologue...my contribution to the new SH.


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## Joachim

Spider_Jerusalem said:
			
		

> Having somehow missed Jollydoc's other threads entirely I'll be in something of a bewildered mode. But, the first post is a goodun' and looking forward to more.




Check out Jollydoc's Shackled City Story Hour.  The first page has linked entries of the story, because we get a lot of chatter (very welcome chatter, I add) from players, JD, and the readers between posts.  I must warn, you are about to enter the land of the Powergamer.  Beware.


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## gfunk

JollyDoc said:
			
		

> I will, however, ask my remaining players to refrain from posting their stats until after their characters have been officially introduced in the SH, which will be in the next post, which should be...soon.




Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww . . . .

Hurry, hurry!


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## LordVyreth

So those were Havoc's stats at introduction to the party?  I wondered why he had so many magic items, but while I knew he was introduced mid-campaign, I didn't realize you were so far into it already!

The Dex thing makes sense, since pretty much everything a warlock does is a ranged touch attack.  I was a little surprised about the low Cha score until I noticed the lack of offensive invocations that usually require save DCs.

Could you get into detail on how the flaw and trait work?  I haven't really worked with those optional rules yet.


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## Hammerhead

Traits are "freebies" that give a bonus to one thing (usually a skill) and a greater penalty to something else.

You can take a Flaw to get an additional feat.

So, Joachim and Gfunk, what did you guys think of the Favored Soul? My opinion is that, compared to the Cleric, they're pretty weak. The dual stat spellcasting system tends to hose their spell DCs too much, and their special abilities don't really replace the Cleric's domains.


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## Joachim

Hammerhead said:
			
		

> So, Joachim and Gfunk, what did you guys think of the Favored Soul? My opinion is that, compared to the Cleric, they're pretty weak. The dual stat spellcasting system tends to hose their spell DCs too much, and their special abilities don't really replace the Cleric's domains.




Well, considering that the Favored Soul was the only way for Angel/Gideon to have wings at 1st level, that was the way to go.  As far as the Cleric vs. Favored Soul debate, I am going to say that its going to be dependent on character concept.  For sheer powergaming, the cleric is probably the most flexible, but the Favored Soul gives on-the-fly casting for all spells known, which can be eminently useful.  The Favored Soul, in my humble estimation, is a superior healer because, by about 10th level, he can be prepared to remove just about any condition that might afflict his allies without being relieved of other flexibility.  If you are looking for beat-down potential, I believe that the Favored Soul can be effective, but the cleric is superior.

Of course, opinions are like buttholes...every has one and they always stink.

Let me say here that I am NOT a fan of the stupid Divine Metamagic Persistent Spell garbage, even though some like to claim its dominance in gameplay.  One dispel magic and *poof* that character is neutralized, having spent so much in the way of resources (i.e. feats) to be able to have divine favor and divine power all day.


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## gfunk

Joachim said:
			
		

> One dispel magic and *poof* that character is neutralized, having spent so much in the way of resources (i.e. feats) to be able to have divine favor and divine power all day.




I've actually heard of a nice counter for this.  Buy a bunch of rings of counterspell (they are cheap) and load them with DM or GDM and wear 10 on all of your fingers.  If one goes off, then simply activate the next one (a standard action?).

Your luck runs out if the DM/GDM is a SLA.  However, this is an obscure rule that most DMs (not ours) ignore.

Also, if you go the Shadow Weave Adept route or take levels of Heirophant you can bump up your caster level to help buffer against dispels.


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## Joachim

gfunk said:
			
		

> I've actually heard of a nice counter for this.  Buy a bunch of rings of counterspell (they are cheap) and load them with DM or GDM and wear 10 on all of your fingers.  If one goes off, then simply activate the next one (a standard action?).
> 
> Your luck runs out if the DM/GDM is a SLA.  However, this is an obscure rule that most DMs (not ours) ignore.
> 
> Also, if you go the Shadow Weave Adept route or take levels of Heirophant you can bump up your caster level to help buffer against dispels.




Wait until higher levels when you get hit with that Disjunction.  Nada you can do as Ring of Counterspelling can only store up to 6th level. But, I get your point.  Still, there are quite a few outsiders (demodands come immediately to mind) that can cast Dispel Magic at will as an SLA.

I just think that there is so much claptrap about that one tactic for clerics and how 'broken' it is.  You need to dedicate 4-5 feats (Extend Spell, Persistent Spell, Divine Meta [Persistent Spell], and Extra Turning maybe twice depending on CHA), and that will get you the ability to use the feat ONCE.  Then you need to dedicate substantial monetary resources (8k gp a pop for Rings of Counterspelling at 8th-12th level can be steep, depending on the number you want) for the protection of this ability or 12k a pop for at least two Nightsticks so that you can use it a second time.  And after all that is done guess what:  You can beat things down _*almost*_ as good as a fighter (who has spent his money on nice magical weapons, has higher HD, and booku combat feats to boot) and you can heal yourself.  Wow.  Too much bloody trouble.

Sorry about the rant.  I realize that the original question had nothing to do with this, but I have read waaaaaayyy too many threads regarding clerics where the ultimate answer is "You should go the Divine Meta route" or "The Divine Meta [Persistent] cleric is teh BORKEN!!" (mispelling and bad english intended).


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## Hammerhead

Joachim said:
			
		

> Well, considering that the Favored Soul was the only way for Angel/Gideon to have wings at 1st level, that was the way to go.  As far as the Cleric vs. Favored Soul debate, I am going to say that its going to be dependent on character concept.  For sheer powergaming, the cleric is probably the most flexible, but the Favored Soul gives on-the-fly casting for all spells known, which can be eminently useful.  The Favored Soul, in my humble estimation, is a superior healer because, by about 10th level, he can be prepared to remove just about any condition that might afflict his allies without being relieved of other flexibility.  If you are looking for beat-down potential, I believe that the Favored Soul can be effective, but the cleric is superior.
> 
> Of course, opinions are like buttholes...every has one and they always stink.
> 
> Let me say here that I am NOT a fan of the stupid Divine Metamagic Persistent Spell garbage, even though some like to claim its dominance in gameplay.  One dispel magic and *poof* that character is neutralized, having spent so much in the way of resources (i.e. feats) to be able to have divine favor and divine power all day.




I don't even consider the Divine Metamagic junk. What seems to be popular for high level clerics these days is to take Quicken Spell, so you can quicken out a Divine Favor or a Divine Power if you need the combat edge. 

How did you get wings at 1st level? I thought the wings came in play by 17th. 

So you would argue that a Favored Soul requires a much more "focused" character concept than the typical cleric, who can be good at everything? Our current Favored Soul can't decide between being a meleeist, evoker, combat buffer, necromancer, or conjurer.


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## Joachim

That's about how I look at Favored Souls.  Pick a role and stick to it.  Like you said earlier, they have problems with getting super-high DCs because of the MAD (Multiple Attribute Deficiency).  Favored Souls really cant afford any kind of 'dump stat'.

Angel got his wings by being an aasimar, taking a flaw, and selecting the feats Celestial Heritage and Outsider Wings from Races of Faerun.  Outsider Wings require base +2 on all saves, which means that only Favored Souls or Monks could take it before 6th level (or some multi-class combo).  I only post this information because Angel is dead.  I will let JD clue you in on the other characters.


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## A'vandira Silvermane

Fallen for it again. JD for writing again, me for following the link and getting hooked again. Brain, doesn't this inspire to do some updating to your SH as well?   

Well, here's to another SH to consume my time


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## JollyDoc

LET THE GAMES BEGIN

True to his word, Ekaym arrived the next evening, this time draped in a garish purple robe.  A small coach waited outside the inn, and it carried the merchant and the warlock  through Dock Ward, and past the Market in the City Ward.  Throughout the ride, Ekaym chatted away amiably about his travels to exotic locals and trysts with an improbable number of exotic women.  Giovanni feigned passing interest, but kept most of his attention on the bustling nightlife they passed on the streets of the City of Splendors.

The coach pulled up in front of another inn, appropriately named the Crooked House, since it seemed as if the entire building was a bit off tilt, its walls at odd angles, and none of its doors or windows quite square.  Once inside, Ekaym tipped the barkeep, a jovial looking gnome, who then led the pair to a secluded back room.  A fire crackled in the hearth of the cozy chamber, and seated around a long table was one of the motliest assortment of characters Giovanni had ever laid eyes on.

Ekaym gestured towards the group with a flourish.  “Gentlemen…and lady,” he added with a wink towards a lovely elf maid, “allow me to introduce the final member of your team.  I present…Havok!”  Stony silence met the merchant from seven pairs of eyes, eight counting Giovanni.  “Yes, well…” he continued, clearing his throat.  “Havok, I give you, in no certain order of importance, Vladius,” here he indicated a young man dressed in plain brown robes, yet sporting a mane of flame, red hair, “Shay,” a dark-skinned fellow clad all in black, “Grubber,” a mountain of a man, gray of skin, and bald of pate.  Unless Giovanni missed his guess, he was a goliath.  “Grim,” Ekaym continued, indicating what the warlock at first took to be a dwarf, but on closer inspection, he saw that the armor clad thing had skin seemingly made of solid rock, “Storm,” the lovely elven woman, “and lastly, Civilars Hawk Veritas and Dwilt Riddick.”  These last two appeared to be human, but Giovanni quickly determined that the one called Hawk was something more.  His bronze hair and gold-flecked eyes identified him as celestial touched…aasimar.  Even more striking, though, was the title Ekaym had identified them by, and also the uniforms they both wore.  The men were civilars, officers in the city guard!  Why on earth would they be competing as gladiators?

“So,” the red head Ekaym had named Vladius said, crossing his hands across his belly, “you’re the new meat.  I suppose this pirate posing as a merchant is fleecing you for as much as he is the rest of us, while he profits from the sweat of our brow.  We who are about to be screwed salute you.”  He raised a flagon into the air.  
“You do have a flair for the dramatic, don’t you…Pyro?” Ekaym said sarcastically.  “No one is twisting your arm to be here.  You’re a big boy.  Now, since we have the formalities out of the way, we can get down to business.”  The merchant motioned Giovanni to a seat beside Grim, while he himself conspicuously took the spot next to Storm. 

“As you all know,” Ekaym began, “the Champion’s Games begin officially tomorrow night with the Champion’s Feast.  This will be held at the Field of Triumph, beginning promptly at six sharp.  Any team not present will be disqualified.  The Feast is mostly a formality…an excuse really for the nobles, upper level clergy and merchants to size-up the competitors and makes odds for wagering.  It’s also one of many opportunities for Prendergast Brokengulf, the host of the Games, to seize the spotlight for himself and brag about his glory days as a former gladiator himself.  In any event, I strongly advise you to use the time to scrutinize the other teams.  The Games proper will commence on the following morning with the first round of competition.  There are twenty-four teams competing.  On the first day, there will be six battles, each consisting of four teams in a free-for-all.  The six winners of these matches will then have one day of rest.  On the third day, there will be three battles of one team versus one team.  The fourth day, two of the remaining teams will battle each other, while the remaining team will fight one of the beasts of the arena.  Traditionally, this battle goes to the previous year’s champions, in this case Auric’s Warband.  Finally, on the last day, the final two teams compete, no-holds-barred, for the Champion’s Belt.”  
“You mentioned something earlier about team ranks…” Dwilt interrupted.
“Ah, yes…” Ekaym said, steepling his fingers.  “A team’s initial rank determines the odds for or against them in the wagering.  You are relative unknowns, so your initial ranking will probably be somewhere around three, the minimum being one, and the maximum being nine.  Each time you win a match, your rank will increase.  All of the other rules of the tournament will be explained to you in detail at the Feast, so, if there’s nothing else…?  Good, then I’ll leave you all to get better acquainted with your new team mate.  Until tomorrow.”  With that, the young merchant rose, and left the room, swirling his cloak around him dramatically.

“What a little weasel.” Vladius snorted as the door closed.  
“Yes, but he has a managers license,” Dwilt said, “and he got us into the games.”
“Then the criteria for getting a license must only be having a face and the intelligence of a kobold,” the red-head retorted, then turned towards Giovanni.  “Now what about you?  Are you just some flunky of Ekaym’s, or can you actually fight?”
Giovanni peered over the top of his glasses.  “I can handle myself, but I don’t want to start by sniping at my own team mates.  Ekaym was right…I’d like to know more about you all.  Where do you hale from?”
“Here and there,” Vladius said, picking at his fingernails with a bread knife.  “You know us gladiator types…always on the move.”
“You must pardon my friend,” the goliath called Grubber spoke up.  “He tends to speak and act before he thinks.”  This earned the goliath a withering glare from Vladius.  “Vladius, Shay, Grim and I came to Waterdeep by way of Daggerford, but what Vladius says is also true.  We have all been wayfarers at one time or another.”  
“Obviously, Hawk and I are native Waterdavians,” Dwilt said, tapping his civilar insignia.
“Yes, about that,” Giovanni asked.  “Why would officers of the guard be competing in a common gladiatorial competition?”
“In order to earn almost 50,000 gp in the guard, we would have to serve until I was around 300 years old,” Dwilt said with a smile.  “There is nothing in the guard rulebook that says we can’t make a little money on the side.”
“Now, back to you,” Storm said, leaning suggestively across the table towards Giovanni.  “Where are you from?  You seem like an unlikely gladiator yourself…Havok.”
“My name is Giovanni,” the warlock replied, dropping his gaze.  “I am also something of a wanderer.  Suffice it to say that Waterdeep is the perfect place to lose one’s self in, and the games present a quick, if dangerous source of income.”
“Then we have more in common than you think,” Storm smiled.  “I think you’ll fit in just fine.”
_________________________________________________________

The evening of the Champion’s Feast arrived, and Ekaym arranged for transport of his team to the Field of Triumph.  When Giovanni first stepped into the luxuriously roomy coach, he was stunned at the appearance of his comrades-in-arms.  Dwilt and Hawk, who the previous night had been decked out in masterwork armor, were dressed in rusted cast-offs and maggoty leathers.  Dull, pitted swords hung at their belts.  Vladius wore a moth-eaten robe with one sleeved pinned up as if he were missing an arm.  Grubber had what appeared to be several open sores on his face and arms.  Shay, the supposed scout of the group, was dressed in several loose-fitting pieces of plate mail!  Finally, Storm’s beautiful face was covered in soot and dirt, her hair a matted rat’s nest, while Grim, the mineralized dwarven juggernaut, was all but engulfed in a huge, multi-colored caftan.  

“Did I miss something?” Giovanni asked, his mouth gaping.  “Is the Feast supposed to be a costume party?”
“Not at all,” Dwilt laughed.  “We are merely attempting to stack the odds against us.  The less imposing we appear, the more money we’ll win when we put a few well-placed wagers on ourselves.  We even ‘convinced’ a priest of Kossuth to spread the word among the clergy that he had recently ministered to Grubber for a mysterious wasting disease.”
Grubber frowned.  “Which was not entirely an untruth,” he grumbled.  “I actually have just recovered from a cursed periapt I…found.” 
Giovanni could tell the goliath was holding something back, but he didn’t press the matter.  Instead, he nodded his approval.  “Then I should blend in just fine,” he said, adjusting his spectacles, and patting the large tome in his shoulder bag.
______________________________________________________

The Field of Triumph sat on a hillock overlooking the surrounding ward.  Oval in shape, it had four gates, each overlooked by a pair of watchtowers.  The arena itself was capable of seating over 18,000 spectators.  Wardens manned each watchtower, greeting all arriving guests, dressed in blue cloaks with large clasps shaped like a bastard sword.  

Numerous long banquet tables were arrayed in a circle around a central wooden stage in the middle of the field.  Two great bonfires burned north of the seating areas, and scores of cooks, scullions and waiters were busy there with spits, grills and platters.  Some two-hundred guests were already present shortly after sunset, with half again as many servants, cooks, musicians and other entertainers.

As Ekaym’s coach pulled up to the northwest gate, a warden greeted them.  Ekaym presented his license and a clerk began recording the names of the team.  “Now,” the clerk concluded, “what is the name of your group, and who is your group leader?”  Immediately, Dwilt stepped forward.  “I am the leader.  I am Dwilt Riddick, and this,” he gestured towards the band, “is Impotent Rage!”

A warden escorted the gladiators to their table, and servants immediately flocked to provide a seemingly endless supply of food and drink.  At exactly six, a hush fell over the gathering as a trumpet sounded from the north gate.  There, a tanned, clean-shaven man, sporting a thick crew-cut and wearing a chain shirt with a pair of shortswords strapped at his waist strode across the field, trailed by six heavily armed men dressed in purple cloaks.  Behind them walked a tall, heavily muscled man who appeared to be in his late fifties.  Ancient scars creased his weathered face, and his grizzled, grey hair matched his small, penetrating eyes.  He wore a gleaming breastplate with a buckler strapped to his left arm.  A huge, bastard sword was strapped across his back.  It was obvious that this was Prendergast Brokengulf, former champion of the Field of Triumph, now retired, having made a new career out of managing promising, up-and-coming gladiators, and having also created the Champion’s Games ten years ago.  Flanking Brokengulf were two more men.  The one on the right also wore a breastplate, and carried a large, steel shield.  A greatsword rested between his broad shoulders.  Around his waist was a red and black leather girdle topped with the representation of a haunted female face…the Champion’s Belt!  The man on the left was balding, and dark-haired.  He wore a high collared red cape fastened with a skull clasp over a green jerkin and pants.  

The crowd erupted into thunderous applause as Brokengulf and his retinue took their positions at the center table.  “Thank you my friends,” the gladiator cried, raising his hands to silence his many fans.  “You are too kind.  Allow me to present to you one more deserving of your accolades.”  He turned to the man seated to his right, “I give you the reigning defender of the Champion’s Games for the past two years…Auric!”  At this, the throng cheered even more loudly, but it was Vladius’ murmured response that caught Giovanni’s attention, “Ah, so that’s what became of them.  The rumors of their death were greatly exaggerated it would seem.”

As the tumult died down, an elderly man wearing the robes of a city magister took the stage.  “I am Talabir Welik,” he announced, “judge and arbiter of these Games.  I will now review the rules of engagement.  First, all battles are to the death, but any gladiator has the option to surrender at any time.  To do so, a competitor must drop his or her weapons, kneel and raise both hands in the air.  Any gladiator who attacks a surrendering foe will be immediately disqualified and charged with assault.  Likewise, any gladiator who surrenders and then attacks another gladiator is also immediately disqualified and faces the same charges.  Second, gladiators with the capability of flight or levitation may do so up to a maximum height of forty feet.  Attaining heights greater than this are grounds for disqualification.  Burrowing into the arena floor is forbidden.  Third, a match persists until one team is victorious, either through the death or the surrender of all opposing teams.  Fourth, winning gladiators have no right to the spoils of the fallen.  A defeated gladiator keeps his gear, or in the case of death, ownership reverts to his team or manager.  Fifth, any tactic that endangers spectators is grounds for immediate disqualification and possible legal action.  Finally, a disqualified gladiator must cease fighting at once and move to the edge of the field immediately.  Failure to comply results in the disqualification of the entire team.  Once a gladiator is disqualified, he may no longer take part in any remaining battles.”  Welik then stepped down from the stage, and Brokengulf stood once more.  “I hereby declare all gladiators Champions of the City of Splendors!  Let the Feast begin!”

Once the formalities were over, the numerous nobles, merchants, clergy and other invited guests began to mingle among the gladiator teams, sizing up each one, assessing their strengths and weaknesses, all in an effort to gain some advantage in the wagering to come.  Giovanni watched the proceedings with fascination, taking special notes of the actions of his own team mates.  Dwilt, in particular, was making the rounds of the high-rollers, making outlandish claims to any who would listen.  "Impotent Rage is the greatest adventuring troupe to emerge from Daggerford in a ten-day.  We were credited with slaying Kruxar the Invincible, a rogue kobold who was notorious for rustling cattle and various other livestock.  Also, we halted the rampage of Imarta the dreaded zombie -- who scared various children of the town.  Oh . . . Imarta was a canny one!  Her scare tactics only came in the dead of night -- with nary a witness to her passing.  However, just to be sure, we exhumed her body and hacked it to tiny little bits -- thereby ending her horrific assaults."  He would also go to great lengths to introduce the ridiculously dressed members of the team to interested patrons.  "Meet Pyro the Lame, who lost an arm in a farming accident.  But be ye warned!  He overcompensates for this deficiency with furious . . . ANGER!" and, "Feast your eyes upon Grubber the Afflicted.  His promiscuous lifestyle has lead to a variety of boils, blisters, and ulcers.  Do not underestimate him, for his very touch promises slimy doom!"  Before long, Giovanni had to move quickly away from his erstwhile leader to avoid breaking into howls of laughter and spoiling the whole effect.  Yet somehow, against all odds, Dwilt’s plan seemed to be working.  The young warlock overheard several guests declaring Impotent Rage a long shot at best, and hopelessly outclassed at worst.

As the evening wore on, Giovanni took note of several other interesting occurrences.  At one point, a young woman dressed in stunning soiree attire approached Shay and Vladius.  The trio seemed to know one another, as they immediately fell into an animated conversation.  The woman kept looking towards Auric and his companion, and Shay and Vladius followed her gaze.  After several minutes of this, Giovanni’s two team mates nodded to the woman, and then Shay produced a heavy looking purse from his cloak and handed it to her.  She made the bag disappear with startling alacrity, especially considering the fact that her outfit had very few places to conceal anything.  

Something else that caught Giovanni’s eye was the fact that Prendergast Brokengulf seemed to be paying an inordinate amount of attention to the members of Impotent Rage, and that in turn, Ekaym appeared to be very interested in Brokengulf.  The warlock filed all of these things away for consideration at a later date.

Finally, the Feast came to a close with a stunning fireworks display courtesy of Talabir Welik, after which the festival dancers fell dramatically to the ground and Brokengulf announced, “The Champion’s Games have begun!”  At that point, the arena wardens began urging the guests towards the exits, while the gladiator teams were directed to a point near the northwest quadrant of the field.  Over the course of the next hour, the teams were lowered by a cleverly concealed lift into the understructure of the arena.  Giovanni and his companions eventually found themselves in a large hall showing signs of intense recent traffic.  The ceiling was supported by a rectangular pillar, and by the shell of a circular stairwell.  A wooden, life-sized statue of a muscular, half-naked man holding a spear and a horn lay in the southwest corner, where the lift terminated in an arcade.  A heap of metal bars, hinges and locks sat along the north wall of the chamber, near a ten-foot wide, three-foot tall segment of a wooden frieze, decorated with the realistic carvings of fruits and a bull’s skull.  From this chamber, the gladiators were led down a wide, curving hall to a large, irregular room which seemed to be a major junction.  Many stairways and passages led in and out.  One of these stairways led down to a level even further underground than the understructure, and terminated in an enormous cave resembling some sort of underground village.  The cave walls were finely hewn and the floor was paved with smooth slabs of stone.  Many artificial and natural pillars supported the relatively low ceiling fifteen feet above.  Wooden doors on the cave’s walls lead to a circle of underground dwellings.  A pair of similar doors on the north wall led to a kitchen and an infirmary.  An underground stream ran in the middle of the cavern, crossed by a wooden bridge that led to a dining area with two long tables.  The relatively fresh air, murals of famous gladiators on the walls and the soft illumination provided by amber-colored light globes hanging from the ceiling made the cavern a true marvel of underground architecture.

“Gentlemen and ladies,” one of the wardens called out as the last of the teams was led into the chamber, “welcome to the coenoby, your home while you remain competitors in the Games.  Anything you wish will be provided for you, but you are forbidden from leaving this chamber unless escorted by a warden.  Failure to comply will result in immediate disqualification.  Get some rest.  You’re going to need it.”


----------



## Ero Gaki

Awesome stuff, Jollydoc. I'm looking forward to the fun and games.


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## Nightingale 7

YIPEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!Right when I thought you wouldn't chronicle the rest of that fine group's adventures,my eyes fll upon your new thread.You are all EVIL persons,playing with your SH fans' feelings like that!   

And as luck would have it the SH begins with gladiatorial combat that I enjoy SOOO much,it's almost like JD is reading my thoughts,you sneaky psion you   

I'm also anxious to see how viable the warlock is as a character class.My guess is that he sacrifices burst effects for long-time utility,but I'm not so sure how much that can work on a caster.I have to ask though,Joachim,did you at any time consider the (broken?) but terribly annoying combo of Darkness coupled with Devil Sight?I guess JD wouldn't be far from wrong if he chose to ban that cheesy combo.Just keeping track of who is where,and all those listen and Spot checks...


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## Joachim

Wait until you see the first fight:  Impotent Rage runs like a well-oiled machine of death and destruction.

Very nice representation there, Joe.  I liked it a lot.


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## Joachim

Nightingale 7 said:
			
		

> I'm also anxious to see how viable the warlock is as a character class.My guess is that he sacrifices burst effects for long-time utility,but I'm not so sure how much that can work on a caster.I have to ask though,Joachim,did you at any time consider the (broken?) but terribly annoying combo of Darkness coupled with Devil Sight?I guess JD wouldn't be far from wrong if he chose to ban that cheesy combo.




First, the warlock seems to be working well, but as I said earlier its under somewhat artificial circumstances.  My feel is that the warlock, if played well, is very viable at the lower levels, but at the higher levels you will need to optimize every feat/invocation selection to keep up.  Under no circumstances should you compare the warlock to a primary caster.  They should be considered seperately, much like a monk is.  Apart from the consistent damage I can deal, thus far, I have found _Flee the Scene_ at will to rock and roll, despite its short range.

The Darkness/Devil's Sight combo is not good because Darkness in 3.5 merely reduces the light level to 'shadowy illumination'.  In 3.5, there is no more of your mama's darkness spells.


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## gfunk

*Dwilt Raddick (Fighter 2/Paladin of Freedom 3/Marshal 3)*
----------------------------------------------------------------------

*Medium Humanoid (Human)*
*Hit Dice:* 2d10 + 3d10 + 3d8 + 16 (62 hp)
*Initiative:* +5
*Speed:* Move 30' (6 squares)
*Armor Class:* 20 (+1 Dex, +9 Armour), 11 touch, 19 flat-footed
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +7/+10
*Attack:* _+1 stunning surge spiked chain_ +11 melee (2d4+5)
*Full Attack:* _+1 stunning surge spiked chain_ +11/+6 melee (2d4+5)
*Space/Reach:* 5 feet/5 feet
*Special Attacks:* Smite evil
*Special Qualities:* Human traits, aura of good, _Detect evil_ (sp), divine grace, lay on hands, aura of resolve, divine health, minor auras, major auras
*Saves:* Fort +17, Ref +10, Will +10
*Abilities:* Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 13, Wis 10, Cha 18
*Skills:* Bluff +15, Diplomacy +18, Knowledge (religion) +8, Listen +11, Spot +11
*Feats:* Jotunbrud, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (Spike Chain), Expertise, Improved Trip, Allied Defense, Improved Disarm, Skill Focus (Diplomacy)
*Environment:* Urban
*Organization:* Solitary or Murder (Joachim, Ika et al)
*Challenge Rating:* 8
*Treasure:* Goods
*Alignment:* Chaotic Good

_A self-assured, muscular young man bearing full plate with the herald of the god of war stands before you and simply oozes leadership.  Just being in his presence makes you feel stronger, faster, and tougher._

Dwilt has lived in Waterdeep as long as he can remember, with his freakishly large size serving him well as a member of the Civilar.  Though many troops under his command focused on ability to deal incredible amounts of damage, so they could join the highly esteemed Grey Hands, Dwilt focused on his leadership skills and non-lethal combat.  

*COMBAT*

*Smite Evil (Su):* Once per day, Dwilt may attempt to smite evil with one normal melee attack. He adds his Charisma bonus (+4) to his attack roll and deals 1 extra point of damage per paladin level. If Dwilt accidentally smites a creature that is not evil, the smite has no effect, but the ability is still used up for that day. 

*Aura of Good (Ex):* The power of Dwilt's aura of good (see the detect good spell) is three. 

_*Detect Evil (Sp):*_ Dwilt can use _detect evil_ at will.

*Divine Grace:* Dwilt gains a bonus equal to his Charisma bonus (+4) on all saving throws.

*Lay on Hands (Su):* Dwilt can heal wounds (his own or those of others) by touch. Each day he can heal a total number of hit points of damage equal to his paladin level (3) × his Charisma bonus (4). Dwilt may choose to divide his healing among multiple recipients, and he doesn’t have to use it all at once. Using lay on hands is a standard action. 

*Aura of Resolve (Su):* Dwilt is immune to compulsion effects. Each ally within 10 feet of him gains a +4 morale bonus on saving throws against compulsion effects. This ability otherwise functions identically to the paladin's aura of courage class feature. 

*Divine Health (Ex):* Dwilt has immunity to all diseases, including supernatural and magical diseases. 

*Auras (Ex):* Dwilt exerts an effect on allies in his vicinity. He can learn to produce different effects, or auras, over the course of his career. Dwilt may project one minor aura and one major aura at a time.

Projecting an aura is a swift action. The aura remains in effect until Dwilt uses a free action to dismiss it or activates another aura of the same kind (major or minor). Dwilt can have an aura active continually; thus, an aura can be in effect at the start of a combat encounter even before Dwilt takes his first turn.

Activating an aura involves haranguing, ordering, directing, encouraging, cajoling, or calming allies. Dwilt sizes up the enemy, allies, and the terrain, then gives allies the direction that they can use to do their best.

Dwilt's aura affects all allies within 60 feet (including himself) who can hear him. An ally must have an Intelligence score of 3 or higher and be able to understand Dwilt's language to gain the bonus. His aura is dismissed if he is dazed, unconscious, stunned, paralyzed, or otherwise unable to be heard or understood by his allies.

All bonuses granted by Dwilt's auras are circumstance bonuses that do not stack with each other.

*Minor aura:* A minor aura lets allies add Dwilt's Charisma bouns (+4) to certain rolls
*_Art of War:_ Bonus on disarm, trip, bull rush, and sunder attempts.
*_Motivate Dexterity:_ Bonus on Dexterity checks, Dexterity-based skill checks, and initiative checks.

*Major aura:* A major aura lets allies add +1 to certain rolls
*_Resilient Troops:_ Bonus on all saves.

*EQUIPMENT*

_+1 stunning surge spiked chain, +1 full plate, vest of resistance +1, gauntlets of ogre power, cloak of charisma +2, boots of striding and springing, 1 potion of fly, 1 potion of invisibility, 1 potion of enlarge person, 2 potions of cure serious wounds_.


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

Some extra notes:

* Dwilt's Motivate Dex and Resilient Troops auras are included in the stat block
* Trip attack bonus = +15 (+3 Str + 4 Art of War +4 Jotunbrud +4 Improved Trip)
   -- This can go up even higher with polym orph or enlarge person
* Disarm attack bonus = +28 (+3 Str + 7 BAB + 4 Art of War + 4 Jotunbrud + 4 Improved Disarm + 4 two-handed weapon + 2 spiked chain)
* Allied Defense feat = can give Expertise dodge bonus to all allies within 5 feet
* Dwilt likes to fight humanoid, armed opponents ==> they generally end up on the floor and weaapon-less so that Verias, Grim, and Gruber can hack them to tiny little bits
* Everyone gets the benefit of +4 to initiative checks and +1 on all saves


----------



## Ero Gaki

Gfunk, once again you have left me speechless with awesomeness of your character. A +28 disarm check?! Good gods, man!


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## LordVyreth

What's Dwilt's "Marvel" name?


----------



## JollyDoc

Ero Gaki said:
			
		

> Gfunk, once again you have left me speechless with awesomeness of your character. A +28 disarm check?! Good gods, man!




Yes, and he's pissing me off royally!


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## JollyDoc

LordVyreth said:
			
		

> What's Dwilt's "Marvel" name?




The Patriot...ie, the black-clad Captain America look-alike who was a member of the West Coast Avengers.


----------



## LordVyreth

JollyDoc said:
			
		

> The Patriot...ie, the black-clad Captain America look-alike who was a member of the West Coast Avengers.




Wow, that's reaching a bit!   That's an interesting concept, btw.  What do you usually call each other at the table?  How does one determine what the Marvel equivalent is?  Do you work up the character and try to find a Marvel character to base it off of or pick a Marvel character and approximate it as closely as possible?  Is there an intentional plan to avoid the really big names like Wolverine and Spiderman?


----------



## gfunk

Ero Gaki said:
			
		

> Gfunk, once again you have left me speechless with awesomeness of your character. A +28 disarm check?! Good gods, man!




Thanks!  In a group of our size (8), I found the building support characters can make the party very powerful.  For instance, classes like the Bard or Marshal are kind of worthless in a standard four man team, but their value rises significantly with double that number.



			
				LordVyreth said:
			
		

> What do you usually call each other at the table? How does one determine what the Marvel equivalent is? Do you work up the character and try to find a Marvel character to base it off of or pick a Marvel character and approximate it as closely as possible? Is there an intentional plan to avoid the really big names like Wolverine and Spiderman?




When the group first started AoW, I imagine the Marvel concept was something they enjoyed using.  However, with the addition of new party members, it has kind of fallen by the wayside.


----------



## Joachim

gfunk said:
			
		

> When the group first started AoW, I imagine the Marvel concept was something they enjoyed using.  However, with the addition of new party members, it has kind of fallen by the wayside.




Ummmmm....the only one to have let the concept go by 'the wayside' is, uh, you   .  Everyone else has stuck to the plan.


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## JollyDoc

LordVyreth said:
			
		

> Wow, that's reaching a bit!   That's an interesting concept, btw.  What do you usually call each other at the table?  How does one determine what the Marvel equivalent is?  Do you work up the character and try to find a Marvel character to base it off of or pick a Marvel character and approximate it as closely as possible?  Is there an intentional plan to avoid the really big names like Wolverine and Spiderman?




We actually did have Sabertooth at one point...a feral human barbarian, complete with natural claws and fast-healing, but his player had real-life commitments (whatever that means), and is no longer with our group.  Shay is modeled after Nightcrawler, Grim is the Thing, Grubber is Colossus, Storm is...well...Storm, Hawk is Captain America, Havok is Havok and Dwilt is the Patriot (paladin of Freedom).


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## Joachim

Grubber was probably biggest stretch as Colossus, but because of the Metal Domain, he will eventually get the spell Iron Body, so I ran with it.  The idea of a Goliath Cleric with a big hammer just appealed to me when I made all of the characters.


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

Joachim said:
			
		

> The idea of a Goliath Cleric with a big hammer just appealed to me



Why wouldn't it?    Ah, but also, think of a Goliath Apostle of Peace...

I loved the Champions Game intro, JollyDoc! The players were appearantly being quite clever, although weren't the actions by Dwilt a little un-paladin? I mean, there are non-"death before dishonor" types of paladins, but this...does not seem lawful to the letter. 

Very, very, VERY much fun to read this story. Which one of them is Entropy, btw?


----------



## Hammerhead

Dwilt's actions don't seem lawful? I would hope not! Dwilt isn't lawful, he's chaotic. A Paladin of Freedom, using the variant paladin found in Unearthed Arcana. 

Why was Joachim making all of the characters? Was everyone too busy, or were they outsourcing the character optimization to the true expert?


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## JollyDoc

Hammerhead said:
			
		

> Dwilt's actions don't seem lawful? I would hope not! Dwilt isn't lawful, he's chaotic. A Paladin of Freedom, using the variant paladin found in Unearthed Arcana.
> 
> Why was Joachim making all of the characters? Was everyone too busy, or were they outsourcing the character optimization to the true expert?




You're right about Dwilt.

Everyone decided this time that instead of make the same, old character type they usually play, they would let Joachim generate all the initial characters, and then they would draw their characters randomly out of a hat.  The players of Dwilt, Hawk and Storm made their own characters, because they were introduced later.


----------



## JollyDoc

Neverwinter Knight said:
			
		

> Why wouldn't it?    Ah, but also, think of a Goliath Apostle of Peace...
> 
> I loved the Champions Game intro, JollyDoc! The players were appearantly being quite clever, although weren't the actions by Dwilt a little un-paladin? I mean, there are non-"death before dishonor" types of paladins, but this...does not seem lawful to the letter.
> 
> Very, very, VERY much fun to read this story. Which one of them is Entropy, btw?





Haven't you figured that out yet?? It's Vladius, of course!


----------



## JollyDoc

ROUND ONE

When the chime sounding the dawn hour rang, Giovanni and the rest of Impotent Rage emerged from their quarters to find that most of the gladiators were gathered near the meal tables.  A parchment had been posted on the wall there announcing the first round match-ups.

Dwilt’s team was slated to fight in the second slot.  Their opponents were three other teams called Arcane Auriga, Badlands’ Revenge, and Sapphire Squad.  Shortly, all the assembled teams separated once more and began scrutinizing their competition and muttering among themselves.  Giovanni began looking through the crowd for their own challengers.  Arcane Auriga was a team comprised of five elven women.  Four of them were outfitted in studded leathers, while the fifth, slightly older woman, wore a breastplate.  All carried well-made longbows and wore shortswords at their hips.  Badlands’ Revenge consisted of a barbaric-looking human wearing rustic hide armor with a wooden shield slung over one shoulder.  He gripped a spear in one hand, and a sling hung at his belt.  He was barking orders in a strange tongue at three savage gnolls, all clad in studded leather and leaning on wickedly hooked halberds.  Crouched at the man’s feet was a badger the size of a pony, with odd, bony knobs protruding through its fur.  Sapphire squad was led by a rakish looking fellow in a gleaming chain shirt.  He wore a turban atop his head, and his moustache and beard were well-oiled and pointed.  A scimitar rested on his hip, and a composite longbow was slung over his shoulder.  His companions were two men, similarly garbed, but wearing full chain mail and carrying heavy, steel shields.  They too carried scimitars and composite bows.  Three heavy warhorses were tethered near their dwelling.

It was the leader of Sapphire Squad that interested Giovanni the most.  There was something strange about him…Then it struck the warlock.  He wasn’t human after all.  Giovanni’s years of research into his own mysterious lineage had given him a large storehouse of knowledge about outsiders…those from beyond his own plane of existence.  This man was a janni…one of the least powerful members of elemental creatures known as djinn.  This should prove very interesting.  As he watched, the janni began swaggering towards the women of Arcane Auriga.  As he reached them, he gave them a sweeping bow and a toothy smile.  He spoke quietly to them for a moment, grinning all the time, until finally, the older of the women gave him a very deliberate, and equally obscene, hand gesture.  The five of them then turned away.  The janni looked momentarily abashed, but as his eyes fell upon Storm standing near the rest of her team mates, his smile magically appeared again.

“Good morning, fair lady,” he said, striding up and lifting Storm’s hand to his lips.  “I assume you are the leader of this fine band of warriors.  Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Korush, major general of Sapphire Squad.  I…”
“You ASS-ume much", Vladius interrupted, the crazed wizard dressed only in a loincloth this morning.  "Why don’t you spare us all of your lip flapping and just tell us what in the Hells you want?”
“Ah…” Korush said, his smile never faltering, “I take it this is your advisor?” he still addressed Storm.
“I’ll tell you what you can take…!” Vladius began.
“Please,” Storm said, reclaiming her hand from Korush, and raising it to forestall Vladius, “What can we help you with?”
“Why, I only come to offer my well-wishes in the coming competition…and to offer a possible alliance between our two teams…at least until we are the only two left.”
At this point Dwilt spoke, “I am the leader of this team, Korush, and your regards are duly noted and returned.  However, we have neither need nor want of an alliance.  Let the best team win.”
For a moment anger flashed in Korush’ eyes, but it was quickly replaced by his charming smile.  “Alas,” he said, “then when we next meet, I regret it shall be as enemies.  Perhaps when all of this violence and bloodshed has past, my lady,” he turned to Storm once more, “you and I can become better acquainted.”
“Why don’t you go acquaint yourself with the horse your rode in on?” Vladius spat at Korush’ retreating back as he rejoined his own team.
________________________________________________

Two hours later, the victors of the first battle returned from the Field of Triumph.  To no one’s real surprise, it was Auric’s Warband.  As the reigning champion’s swaggered back into the coenoby, an arena warden called out, “Arcane Auriga!  Badlands’ Revenge!  Sapphire Squad!  Impotent Rage!”  The four teams quickly mustered around the warden, and began following him back upstairs towards the lift chamber.  Giovanni noted with amusement the surprised looks on the faces of some of the other gladiators as they saw the radically different appearance of his own team this morning.  Gone were the rags and cast-offs of the night before, replaced by gleaming mail and shining, deadly-looking weapons.  

As the procession reached the lift, the elven women stepped on first, and began slowly ascending towards the arena, where the roar of the crowd could already be heard.  Giovanni saw each of the women quickly quaff potions, and then the older woman cast two spells in rapid succession.  As she completed the last one, several duplicate images appeared around her.  The warlock looked at his comrades, and they all nodded.  Immediately the buffing process began, with defensive spells flying, and protective potions imbibed.  When they were done, Giovanni and Shay had rendered themselves invisible, while Vladius had first transformed Dwilt into the likeness of a troll, and then himself into a small, bat-winged imp-like creature…a mephit.

The next team to be taken up was Badland’s Revenge.  Their leader also began casting spells, and to Giovanni’s surprise, he was using druidic magic!  Giovanni’s own team was called next, and as the lift carried them upwards, the tumult of the spectators swelled.  Arcane Auriga and Badlands’ Revenge had already positioned themselves at opposite corners of the field.  Talabir Welik, his voice magically amplified, called out as the new team arrived.  “I present Impotent Rage, slayers of kobolds, and bane of zombies everywhere!”  At this, the fans howled with laughter.  Talabir instructed the party to choose one of the remaining two corners.  Dwilt chose the one on the southwest side of the arena, with Arcane Auriga occupying the southeast, and Badlands’ Revenge on the northwest.  Last to arrive was Sapphire Squad, “noted for their prowess in mounted combat!” announced Welik.

Once all of the teams were in position, Welik retreated to the judge’s stand and called out, “On my mark…fight!”  Four of the elven archers were a blur of motion before the referee’s voice had even faded.  In a flash, one of the gnoll halberdiers went down in a hail of arrows.  “And first blood goes to Arcane Auriga!” called Talabir Welik.  The crowd went into a frenzy.  Suddenly, Badlands’ savage leader drew a scroll from his belt and quickly unfurled it.  This was exactly what Giovanni had been waiting for.  Still lurking invisibly near his team mates, he had been watching all of the opposing spell casters, expecting one of them to lead off with magic right away.  Just as the druid began reading the scroll, the warlock focused his dark energy and unleashed a thunderous blast directly into the man's chest.  The druid reeled, his scroll evaporating into cinders.  As Giovanni reappeared, his invisibility negated by his attack, the leader of Arcane Auriga nodded approvingly at him, and then fired her own volley of arrows, piercing the druid through the shoulder.

“That was pretty good, newbie,” Vladius laughed, flitting around in his altered form, “but let me show you how the big boys play!”  A small, pea-sized ball of flame appeared in the mephit’s palm.  Rearing back, he hurled it right into the middle of the elves.  With a mushroom shaped explosion, a ball of fire erupted.  In an instant it was gone, but three of the woman lay in smoking heaps on the ground.  “Yeeeehaaa!” Vladius shouted, but Giovanni could not help but feel remorse as he saw the stricken look on the elder elf’s face.  Before she and her remaining team mate could recover, Dwilt was among them, the troll-paladin whirling a great spiked chain around him like a dervish.  The fourth archer was cut down, leaving only the leader standing.

At that moment, Korush leapt into the air from the back of his horse, and then hovered there, flying.  Simultaneously, his body began to grow to twice its normal size, and he began weaving his scimitar in a blurring, deadly dance.  As he prepared to charge, Storm conjured a ball of sizzling electricity in her hand, and launched it at the janni.  When it struck him, it formed a flashing web of energy around his armor, immobilizing him.  “Ride fools!” Korush cried to his men.  “Run them down!”  The two mercenaries spurred their mounts into a full charge, heading straight towards Impotent Rage, but as they reached mid-field, the feral badger companion of the druid rushed out to meet them.  Without pausing, both riders slashed at the beast as they passed, dropping to the opposite sides of their saddles to avoid its vicious teeth.  

As the two members of Sapphire Squad wheeled their horses about, a black-fletched arrow suddenly sprouted from the back of one of them as if by magic.  No one except Giovanni, with his fiend-given ability to see-the-unseen, saw the still invisible Shay dart to the side of the arena, knocking a second shaft.  Grubber took advantage of the rider’s momentary confusion, and he rushed onto the field, swinging his massive hammer and connecting solidly with the mercenary's shield arm, nearly dislocating the man’s shoulder in the process.

Giovanni visibly shook himself to get his attention back on his primary target.  Already the druid was recovering, rage in his eyes as he glared at the warlock.  The foolish man literally broke into an all out run as he began charging across the field.  No sooner had he taken his first steps though, than the warlock met him head on with a second blast, this one louder and more massive than the first.  Without a sound, the druid fell dead.  For a moment, the two remaining gnolls just stared at their dead leader, then with a shrug, they looked at each other, snarled in agreement, and rushed into the midst of the melee at mid-field.

Meanwhile, Hawk had joined Grubber as the second mercenary spurred his horse into another charge.  The civilar quickly side-stepped and plunged his sword into the animal’s flank.  Instantly, a surge of energy flowed through the blade, and the horse went rigid.  As the rider struggled to stay mounted, Hawk withdrew his sword and slashed at the mercenary.  At that moment, both the gnolls and Grimm arrived, and a massive free-for-all ensued.  The mercenary that Grubber had engaged spun his horse in circles, striking at any enemy in range.  He managed to open a vicious wound in the shoulder of one of the gnolls, but in doing so, he exposed his back to Grimm.  The mineralized dwarf, crouching behind his tower shield, landed two mighty blows with his sword, just as another of Shay’s black arrows pierced the man through the throat.  His horse reared, and he fell lifeless to the ground.  The remaining mercenary, still struggling to urge his mount into motion, fell easily to Grubber’s maul.

Korush’ electrical prison finally faded from his armor, and in an instant, the janni rendered himself invisible.  Rage now overwhelmed any sense of honor that remained in him.  His team had been decimated, and he was determined to get pay back.  He soared silently across the stadium towards the unguarded Havok and Storm, confident that they would not detect his approach until it was far too late.  Giovanni watched him every instant, waiting until the last possible moment to unleash hell once more.  The eldritch blast blew through the janni’s chest, erupting from his back, and he crashed into the ground, returning to visibility as his life left him.  The crowd was deathly silent, awe-stricken at what they were witnessing.

The leader of Arcane Auriga raised her bow defiantly towards Dwilt, but in two swift moves, the civilar-troll had ripped through one of her illusory images, and then snatched the bow from her grasp with his chain.  “Dear lady,” the troll rumbled, “I do not wish to kill you.  I beg your surrender.”  For a moment she stood her ground, but then her gaze fell once more upon her fallen cousins and daughter, and tears filled her eyes.  Raising her hands above her head, she kneeled before the paladin.  

Hawk spun as the gnoll rushed in behind him.  The creature’s halberd passed harmlessly to the right of the civilar, parried off of his shield.  Hawk drove his blade into the halberdier’s gut twice, each time triggering a blast of electricity, cooking the monster from the inside out as it collapsed at his feet.  Without missing a beat, he spun again, this time driving his sword through the spine of the badger and flash-frying it as well.  Just then a shadow appeared above him as the last gnoll raised its halberd high above its head, preparing to bring it down on Hawk’s neck.  Suddenly, the gnoll’s feet were ripped out from under it as Dwilt’s chain wrapped around its legs.  As it rolled to its back, its halberd was torn from its hands by the other end of the civilar’s whirling links.  “Surrender, or die,” Dwilt said simply.  With a nervous, toothy grin, the gnoll raised its hands.

“The winners!  Impotent Rage!”  Talabir Welik’s voice boomed.  The assembled crowd’s response was chaos.  Never had they seen such a display of teamwork.  As Ekaym stepped up to Brokengulf’s box to accept the trophy and payment on behalf of the team, Vladius did several loops around the arena, shouting to the crowd, “Are you not entertained!?”
_____________________________________________________

Later that night, the coenoby was noticeably quieter than the previous evening.  Four other teams remained besides Auric’s Warband and Impotent Rage:  Drunken Devilry, comprised of a pixie, a satyr, and a centaur; Varmint Patrol, a band of eight gnome warriors; Pitchblade, three dour-looking dwarven fighters; and the Crazy Eight, an unlikely team of eight kobold monks.  Even the warden’s had departed at sunset, once more warning the gladiators not to leave the coenoby or face disqualification.

“I want to say again, well done,” Dwilt praised his team mates as they settled down in their quarters.  “We’ve made it through the first round, and our plan is going smoothly.  Now that the watch has been loosened on us, I say we use tonight to begin our exploration.”
Giovanni looked confused.  What was he talking about?  “Exploration?” he said aloud.  “Of what?  You heard the wardens.  We’ll be kicked out if we leave without permission.”
Dwilt looked askance at the warlock, and then at the rest of the team.  One by one they nodded to the civilar, and he in turn nodded to Grubber.  The goliath sighed, “Perhaps we should have been straight with you from the beginning, my friend,” he began, “but we needed to test your mettle first, and let me say that you have proven yourself without doubt.  You deserve to know everything.  Sit back and take your ease…it is a long tale…”


----------



## Ero Gaki

The plot thickens, I see. I'm interested in hearing details about that battle; it must have been chaos to run all of that!


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## A'vandira Silvermane

Awesome!   So reminding of the teamwork of the Bright Axes, yet so different in style. Savage beauty in that battle.


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## gfunk

Great job JD!  I really enjoyed that installment.  This fight was truly a "flawless victory" as not a single member of the party was damaged.  However, our ranking only went up by one slot -- much to our money-making delight!


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## LordVyreth

Nice work, though I noticed you spelled Grim as "Grimm" at least twice.  Old habits die hard, huh?   

Can't wait to hear the tale of past events and I hope to see the rest of the characters posted soon!


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## Ika_Greybeard

LordVyreth said:
			
		

> Nice work, though I noticed you spelled Grim as "Grimm" at least twice.  Old habits die hard, huh?
> 
> Can't wait to hear the tale of past events and I hope to see the rest of the characters posted soon!




If I can talk Joachim into sending me the program that he post His Characters I will post Vladius.


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## gfunk

Ika_Greybeard said:
			
		

> If I can talk Joachim into sending me the program that he post His Characters I will post Vladius.




All you have to do is quote his (or my) post and fill in the details.  That's what I did.


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## LordVyreth

Oh, one more quick question.  I remember the original group all had a "free" ECL+1 race or advantage.  Has that continued for the new guys?  On that note, how was Storm handled.  Was her ECL+2 reduced to balance the rest of the party, or was it just hand-waved away?


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## gfunk

LordVyreth said:
			
		

> Oh, one more quick question.  I remember the original group all had a "free" ECL+1 race or advantage.  Has that continued for the new guys?  On that note, how was Storm handled.  Was her ECL+2 reduced to balance the rest of the party, or was it just hand-waved away?




Everyone in the party is ECL 9 except for Shady, Dwilt and Havoc who are all ECL 8.  I believe that Havoc and Dwilt are the only humans, meaning that they have 8 character levels.  Shady (+1 ECL) and Storm have 7 CLs (+2 ECL) and Grubber, Grim, and Hawk have 8 CLs (all +1 ECL).

Our group has a policy that if your PC dies, then you can come in at the same level as the lowest level member of the party (ECL adjusted, of course).


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## Ika_Greybeard

gfunk said:
			
		

> All you have to do is quote his (or my) post and fill in the details.  That's what I did.



  I will get it done tonight when I get home. Thanks I feel really stupid now  For not thinking of that.


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## JollyDoc

LordVyreth said:
			
		

> Nice work, though I noticed you spelled Grim as "Grimm" at least twice.  Old habits die hard, huh?
> 
> Can't wait to hear the tale of past events and I hope to see the rest of the characters posted soon!




They do at that, especially with another spiked chain wielder in the party...damn I hate that weapon!


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## monboesen

> ..damn I hate that weapon!




Why don't you rule it out then ?

Why a piece of chain with hooks and weights should be THE weapon in D&D seems strange to begin with.


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## gfunk

monboesen said:
			
		

> Why don't you rule it out then ?




Nooooooo!  Please God noooooooooooo!   
If JD could deal with Grimm's spiked chain antics, surely he can put up with Dwilt.  Right?


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## Neverwinter Knight

Oh, wait 'till you see JollyDocs so-called kobold monks whip out their spiked chains... 

That or spiked chains for NPCs are going to become a lot more common... 

Or look at the Order of the Stick comic  again, to see how to beat the maxed out spiked-chain-wielder


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## Solarious

I love chains and all, being a chain nut myself, but the spiked chain seems a tad -too- good. Much as my inner munchkin loves it, I'm conteplating the viability of banning it in games that I may or may not run in the future. I'm sorry, but the the Dhakaan will simply have to make do with flails, both dire and regular flavours. 

Or perhaps I shall ban it except those who take a specific racial feat...


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## Hammerhead

The spiked chain is a GREAT weapon; one of my characters in a game currently on hiatus uses one. However, I fear that with traits, Marshal auras, weapon enhancements, Enlarges, and the feared Exotic Weapon Master it may become too good. If I was using traits, for instance, I probably wouldn't let the bonuses from the Jotunbrund trait and Large size stack, since both stem from being really big. 

That being said, the Spiked Chain is particularly effective against humanoid NPCs. Against dragons, giants, big evil demons, Dire Rhinoceri, etc. its tripping/reach/disarming powers become significantly weaker. Against those monsters, it primarily serves as a less-damaging greatsword you had to buy a feat to get.


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## Neverwinter Knight

Hey guys, your first post of the new campaign was one week ago and you already have over 1k views...that goes to show you how we love your story hours !!!

Please keep it up !!!


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## gfunk

Hammerhead said:
			
		

> If I was using traits, for instance, I probably wouldn't let the bonuses from the Jotunbrund trait and Large size stack, since both stem from being really big.




I agree and I don't make them stack either when I use an _enlarge person_ potion or get _polymorphed_ into a Troll.



> That being said, the Spiked Chain is particularly effective against humanoid NPCs. Against dragons, giants, big evil demons, Dire Rhinoceri, etc. its tripping/reach/disarming powers become significantly weaker. Against those monsters, it primarily serves as a less-damaging greatsword you had to buy a feat to get.




I also agree here.  In these cases, which I guess we will see more as we increase in levels, I plan on using my auras to support the party as well as feats like Allied Defense to help them out.


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## JollyDoc

Neverwinter Knight said:
			
		

> Hey guys, your first post of the new campaign was one week ago and you already have over 1k views...that goes to show you how we love your story hours !!!
> 
> Please keep it up !!!




Thanks!  There's more to come!


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## Joachim

gfunk said:
			
		

> I agree and I don't make them stack either when I use an _enlarge person_ potion or get _polymorphed_ into a Troll.




I think that either WOTC custserv or the Sage have come out and said that Large Build and Jotunbrud do not stack with Enlarging effects, and also do not stack with feats that let you act bigger (such as Monkey Grip).  I don't necessarily agree with it with rules as written, but I guess it kinda makes sense in terms of game balance.


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## Joachim

gfunk said:
			
		

> Nooooooo!  Please God noooooooooooo!
> If JD could deal with Grimm's spiked chain antics, surely he can put up with Dwilt.  Right?




Aaahhhhh.....Grimm....just thinking about him again is making me want to drool.  If we ever go high level, guess who is coming out of retirement? (Unless the party is evil, in which case Amal will return to _disintegrate_ some stuff)


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## Hammerhead

So much for loyalty to your namesake.


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## LordVyreth

Joachim said:
			
		

> Aaahhhhh.....Grimm....just thinking about him again is making me want to drool.  If we ever go high level, guess who is coming out of retirement? (Unless the party is evil, in which case Amal will return to _disintegrate_ some stuff)




On that note, what exactly has Joachim been up to lately?  We've seen Entropy galavanting around the planes and interfering with other Story Hours, but her good counterpart's been pretty quiet as of late.


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## Joachim

Well, he found a nice adventurer retirement community somewhere on the Sword Coast.  Spends his day bitching about how humid it is, and how these new-fangled adventurers are going to end up destroying the world.  The usual stuff for the old phogeys.


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## Solarious

Joachim said:
			
		

> I think that either WOTC custserv or the Sage have come out and said that Large Build and Jotunbrud do not stack with Enlarging effects, and also do not stack with feats that let you act bigger (such as Monkey Grip).  I don't necessarily agree with it with rules as written, but I guess it kinda makes sense in terms of game balance.



 But we know WotC has no such loyalty to an outdated concept such as 'game balance'. We figured that out once they said Wildshape stacked types, you could use templates (and stack them too!  ) on any of your polymorph effects (such as _Alter Self_), and they heedlessly publish badly designed PrCs that are snapped with a flick of the wrist. 

Not all of that is completely true, but let a WotC basher have his time in the spotlight, no?


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## LordVyreth

Joachim said:
			
		

> Well, he found a nice adventurer retirement community somewhere on the Sword Coast.  Spends his day bitching about how humid it is, and how these new-fangled adventurers are going to end up destroying the world.  The usual stuff for the old phogeys.




Really?  I'm a little disappointed.  It's one thing to retire after saving the world et. all, but leaving his old friend to run around after she betrayed him, is using some of his other friends as undead minions, and is actively trying to destroy the world seems a little reckless.


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## Neverwinter Knight

Joachim said:
			
		

> Well, he found a nice adventurer retirement community somewhere on the Sword Coast.  Spends his day bitching about how humid it is, and how these new-fangled adventurers are going to end up destroying the world.  The usual stuff for the old phogeys.



 I thought he was up on Mount Celestia, playing dragon chess with Pez...


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## JollyDoc

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE…PART ONE

Grubber’s tale began several months before in Daggerford, a town along the banks of the river Delimibyr some 120 miles southeast of Waterdeep.  Up until two years ago, Daggerford was ruled by a hereditary duke, Pwyll “Greatshout” Daggerford.  The town was located along the Tradeway where it crossed the great river, and so was a prosperous stop-over for travelers and merchant caravans.  Then, in the year 1372 DR, the Duke of Daggerford, his sister, Lady Bronwyn, and his bastard brother, Lord Llewellyn Longhand, were all three poisoned…assassinated.  The duchy was left without an heir.  Soon thereafter, the Town Council met and elected Lanod Ondabar of Irieabor, the little-known brother of the well-respected Delfen “Yellowknife” Ondabar, as Governor-Mayor.  Rumor had it that Lanod was a compromise candidate and lesser evil in lieu of a corrupt mine manager named Balabar Smenk.  As Governor-General, Lanod quickly appointed an old crony, Cubbin, as sheriff and began selling political favors to the highest bidder.  In less than two years, the once proud town of Daggerford became synonymous with vice and exploitation.  Long-established businesses were sold, their owners forced out by “new investors” allied with Lanod and Cubbin. 

 The iron and silver mines of the nearby Forlorn Hills became the town’s new boom industry, with various mine managers vying for power. But the mines were not all that lay in the hills surrounding the town.  Numerous tombs and burial cairns, remnants of a half-dozen long-dead cultures, pock-marked the area.  In ages past, Daggerford boasted an export much more valuable than metal in the form of treasure liberated from these sites.  However, those days were long past.  The last cairn in the region coughed up its treasures decades ago, and few locals paid much mind anymore to stories of yet-undiscovered tombs and unplundered burial cairns.  On occasion, a handful of treasure seekers would visit the town, but few returned to Waterdeep with anything more valuable than a wall rubbing or an ancient tool fragment.

Present day Daggerford was home to hundreds of laborers who spent weeks at a time underground, breathing recycled air pumped in via systems worth ten times their combined annual salary.  The miners were the chattel of Daggerford, its seething, tainted blood, but they were also its foundation.  Their weekly pay cycled back into the community via a gaggle of gambling dens, bordellos, ale halls and temples.  Because of the demanding and dangerous work in the mines, most of the folk who came to Daggerford were there because they had nowhere else to turn, seeking an honest trade of hard labor for subsistence-level pay simply because the system allowed them no other option.  Many were foreigners displaced from native lands by war or famine.  Work in a Daggerford mine was the last honest step before utter destitution or crimes of desperation.  For some, it was the first step in the opposite direction:  a careful work assignment to ease the burden on debtor-filled prisons, one last chance to make it in civil society.  
________________________________________________

It was this set of circumstances, in this particular community that led to the formation of the League.  The first official member was a young man, barely more than a boy actually, named Gideon.  Gideon was of unknown parentage, found abandoned on the steps of the  temple of Tyr, which happened to be located in the local garrison of the Waterdavian Guard.  The high priest of the temple, Valkus Dun, immediately recognized that there was something unique about the boy.  This became obvious to all when Gideon sprouted a pair of large, white, feathery wings at puberty.  Valkus took this as a sign that the lad had been touched, favored by Tyr himself, and he endeavored to teach Gideon the stern philosophy of the Even-handed One.  Gideon took these teachings to heart, but he did not feel the calling of the clergy.  Instead, he looked upon the suffering that surrounded him every day in Daggerford, and took it upon himself to do something about the corruption that was the source of the town’s rot.

Vladius was born the son of a Thayan merchant loyal more to the Temple of Kossuth than to the Order of the Red Wizards.  Kossuth blessed the boy with a touch of fire, making him a genasi.  While it was not apparent to any around Vladius of his nature, his elemental bloodline was recognized by one of the local Red Wizard zulkirs, who demanded that the ‘boy’ be given for formal training as a Red Wizard. Sadly, the merchant gave his son to the cruel tutelage of the wizards. Vladius learned of his mixed blood, and came to accept it, but when the opportunity arose he fled the academy as well as the depredations and evil of Red Wizardry.  He could not return home, for that would surely mean the death of his family, so he chose to continue south, across the Sea of Fallen Stars, landing eventually in Daggerford. There, he found employment as a local prestidigitator at the Emporium, pleasing the masses (and separating them from their hard earned coin) with his minor spells and cantrips.
It was not long before Vladius came to know Gideon, whom he recognized to also have blood mixed with creatures from outside the Prime Material Plane.  The two young men, having somewhat similar outlooks on law and stability, became fast friends and commonly spent their off-hours together dreaming of adventure and excitement. This friendship served as the starting point and foundation block for “The League”.  In time, Vladius’ skill with magic brought him to the attention of Delfen Ondabar, and the mage offered him an apprenticeship, which the young wizard eagerly accepted, hoping to grow in skill and power so that he would never again have to fear enslavement.

Grubber was born in a small goliath tent city in the mountains of Chessenta.  The goliaths, being very close to the earth and rock as well as of a balanced view on good/evil/law/chaos, were some of the more staunch followers of Grumbar the Earthfather.  So it was with Grubber, and he became an apprentice to the high shaman of the tribe.  Trouble beset Grubber when he and the tribal chieftain’s daughter fell in love, as it was strictly forbidden for Grumbar’s goliath clergy to marry.  Their eyes were supposed to be kept solidly on the flock, not on personal interests.  The affair between Grubber and his love was quickly exposed, and the young goliath was exiled for his dereliction to the needs of the tribe.  Dejected and without other prospects, Grubber soon found himself in Daggerford as a miner, working for Balabar Smenk.  His large size and great strength, as well as his skill with a hammer, made him well suited for his new position.  At no time did the goliath explain his former role, keeping his magic and his prayers to himself, until one evening at the Emporium.
A fiery-looking young man with flaming red hair approached Grubber at his table. Vladius had been watching the giant for weeks, and knew that he could be the kind of muscle that he and Gideon needed in their gang.  Learning that the goliath had some degree of divine spell casting only sweetened the deal.  By the end of the conversation, Grubber had made himself a new friend and had committed himself to membership in a new adventuring group, should the opportunity ever arise.  He welcomed the opportunity to better himself outside of the stale air of the mine, as well as bring some street justice to the local gangs.

Grim hailed from Citadel Adbar, one of the largest and most influential dwarven strongholds on Toril.  Like many dwarves, he was trained in the art of martial warfare, and was skilled with any blade that you put in his hands.  He was training in the Temple of Gorm Gulthyn, dwarven god of protection and defense, to be a church templar when he was approached by one of the priests with an opportunity.  He was offered the chance to undergo the Rite of Stone whereby his essence would be mixed with that of a minor earth elemental.  The end result would be that the dwarf would be forever changed, his flesh transformed to that of living stone.  He would be more powerful and well protected than any average dwarf, but in repayment for the gift he would have to serve one of the dwarf nobles on the surface for one year.  The noble, a merchant by trade named Derval Ironeater, was a master smith located in the town of Daggerford.  His brother, Derwin, managed a mine in the town as well.  The vein on which the mine had been placed ran true with pure metal, and could be fashioned by dwarf artisans.  The trade between the miners was critical to the craftsman of Adbar, and as such the noble’s protection was of utmost importance. Thus the reason that Gorm’s clergy had been contacted.
Grim’s time with the noble was pleasant, with little to report.  Just the rocky dwarf’s presence was commonly enough to end problems  before they were started, and Derval came to see Grim not only as a bodyguard but as sort of a spiritual advisor.  The year of servitude came and went, and Grim elected to remain on an interim basis.  This was partly due to the Derval’s fair treatment and their friendship, but was mostly due to outside contacts that Grim had made.  Through Derval, Grim had become familiar with the local Governor-Mayor as well as Derwin.
 Grim also befriended several locals, including a winged freak follower of Tyr, who told him that he and his wizard buddy were putting together a new adventuring party. The prospects sounded very, very interesting as well as potentially lucrative. 

Shay had been on the run.  Those damnable Shadow Lords were after him.  It was not without deep consideration that he had been selected for the Rite of Shadow Walking, but then he subsequently decided that he was too ‘moral’ to follow through with the guild master’s orders.  Those orders had been to assassinate a local merchant’s five year old son in order to apply pressure to the man.  That  was enough to convince Shay to get the hell out of Turmish.  But where would he go?  Where would be so remote that he would never be found?  The only place so large that a person could disappear…Waterdeep.
Waterdeep was far away, but was outside the long reach of the Shadow Lords.  He wasn’t worth that much trouble to the nefarious group of thieves and assassins…was he?  Stowing away on a series of merchant caravans, Shay found himself in Daggerford, a town bustling with sheep to fleece.  The rogue decided that it would be the perfect place to get lost in…the Shadow Lords would never find him in that wretched mud hole.
For a time, Shay made a living on petty theft, and lived at the Daggerford Inn, a converted warehouse that was home to nearly a hundred pitiful indigents.  During his stay there, Shay met Gideon, who on occasion would minister to the poor and pathetic.  Gideon, sensing skill and good in Shay, offered him a chance at redemption…and adventure!

_____________________________________________________

  At first, the League was more of a concept, an ideal if you will, than an actual entity. The stated purpose of Gideon and his friends was to ultimately rid Daggerford of corruption by starting at a grassroots level. They imagined themselves to be vigilantes of a sort…foiling mugging attempts, helping little old ladies cross the street…that kind of thing. In truth, they spent most of their time at the Happy Cow, a seedy tavern that held dog fighting competitions each night.  Here they discussed their grand plans and how they might accomplish them, but came no closer to acting on those plans.

Everything changed the night three strangers from Waterdeep appeared in town.  They were so-called adventurers, come to explore the ancient ruins in the hills and claim the hidden riches there. The citizens of Daggerford were used to this sort of thing, but this trio, two men named Auric and Khellek (the very same that now comprised Auric’s Warband in the Champion’s Games) and a woman named Tirra, were not dissuaded by the locals assurances that all of the cairns and tombs had been tapped out. They were determined that one such, known locally as the Stirgenest, still had secrets to reveal.

Word and rumor traveled fast in Daggerford, and the members of the League soon got wind of this new venture.  This gave Gideon an idea.  Having spent his entire life in Daggerford, he knew of another tomb, know to the local youth as the Whispering Cairn.  A teenager had stumbled across it near an abandoned iron mine some ten years ago, and since then, adolescents had been daring each other on occasion to step inside to prove their bravery.  Occasionally, when the wind was just right, haunting, almost magical tones were said to emerge from the depths of the forlorn tomb.  Gideon related all of this to his companions, telling them that if there was reason to believe that even one cairn might yet hold hidden secrets, then the Whispering Cairn might be the one.

Eager for a chance at real adventure, the companions set out for the location, which lay a half-day's walk from Daggerford.  The Whispering Cairn did indeed have mysteries yet to reveal, and it wasn’t long before the young members of the League found themselves facing true, life-threatening danger.  Within the ancient halls, they discovered several deadly traps, and also living inhabitants, such as a wolf pack, and swarms of carnivorous beetles.  The artwork, statuary and carvings of the tomb seemed to indicate that it belonged to a member of some long-forgotten race of tall, hairless humanoids called the Wind Dukes of Calim.  

Eventually, the group made their way past the maze of traps to a room spanned by a single wooden beam, which served as a bridge across a sea of iron balls.  As they crossed the beam, more iron balls were fired at them from hidden holes in the walls.  Ultimately, the young adventurers were able to avoid the deadly barrage and defeat a grick which lurked in the spheres below them, only to encounter the ghost of a boy named Alastor Land.  The ghost briefly possessed Grim, and then related to the others that he had stumbled across the cairn thirty years before, having run away from home, only to die in this very room.  Since that time, he had been cursed to haunt the chamber until someone would agree to take his bones back to his family’s farm and bury them with his family.  In exchange for this, he offered to open an impassable door, which he said led to a glorious chamber full of riches.

The group agreed, and unearthed the boy’s bones.  They took them to the farmstead Alastor had described, to find it abandoned and decrepit.  Furthermore, the graves of the boy’s family had been recently dug up, and no trace of the bodies remained.  Further search of the farm brought the team face-to-face with a wounded owlbear that had taken up residence in the farmhouse.  After killing the beast, they discovered evidence of a recent fight, including an intact human arm.  This arm bore a tattoo which Grubber recognized as one used by a gang of toughs that worked for Balabar Smenk.  This gang was led by an albino half-orc named Kullen, and it was common knowledge that he and his boys frequented the Happy Cow.

That night, the League confronted Kullen and his gang at the tavern.  At first, the brute denied knowing anything, but a subtle threat to turn him in for grave robbing to the Cult of the Ascended Lovers, a local sect that venerated Kelemvor and Mystra and warded the town’s burial sites, convinced him to come clean.  He told them that Smenk had ordered them to assist an associate of his by the name of Filge who had recently moved into an abandoned observatory at the edge of town.  Filge’s only request had been for the gang to procure for him corpses, which Kullen and his lads had taken from the old Land farm precisely to avoid any entanglements with the CoAL.  

The obvious next step for the League was to investigate the observatory.  Once inside, they found the skeletons of the Lands almost immediately…they were animated and armed with crossbows!  Filge, it seemed, was a necromancer.  All throughout the building the party encountered animate corpses and evidence of past murders.  Finally, they cornered Filge himself, and after a pitched battle, they managed to beat him into submission.  He revealed that he and Smenk were old acquaintances, and that Smenk had contacted him to come to Daggerford from Waterdeep to help him out of a jam.  It seemed that Smenk had been involved in a business deal with Derwin Ironeater, the dwarven manager of the Ironeater Mine.  At some point, Derwin had taken Smenk into a hidden part of the mines, which, according to Smenk, was crawling with awful beasts in hooded robes.  They were part of a cult which called themselves the Ebon Triad, and they said they were preparing for something called the Age of Worms.  They mentioned the dead walking in the Forlorn Hills and the Lizard Marsh.  Smenk knew that he’d gotten in over his head, so he had written to Filge, hoping that his knowledge of necromancy would be of use.  Filge had actually heard of the Age of Worms.  It was known as the Waiting Age, an era of catastrophe.  Scholars of apocalyptic visions claimed that its advent would signal an interminable period of suffering in which the cosmic scales would shift disastrously towards evil and light would fade from the land.  Filge also knew something of the Ebon Triad, but only what Smenk had told him.  Apparently they worshiped the so-called Dead Three, Bane Bhaal and Myrkul, although technically, only two were really dead.  Smenk had also stolen from the mine a jar containing a strange, green worm.  Filge said it came from a powerful undead creature known as a Spawn of Kyuss.  Kyuss was a being rumored to have existed a thousand years ago in a place called Skullgorge.  Known as ‘the Harbinger of the Age of Worms,’ he was said to have created dozens of new undead breeds and amassed a legion of creatures bound to his will.  It was also said that an undead dragon had stood at his side, acting as the general of his forces.  

Reluctantly, the adventurers released Filge, after exacting from him a promise to leave Daggerford and never return.  They gathered the remains of Alastor’s family and returned them to their graves, burying Alastor’s bones along side them.  From there, they went back to the Whispering Cairn, and this time the doorway to the hidden part of the tomb was now open, just as Alastor had promised.  Beyond, they did indeed find a magnificent chamber, consisting of a central pit ringed by stone walkways, and containing a huge pillar of air in its midst.  No sooner had they entered the room, than two creatures which looked like ancient suits of ceramic armor, each wielding a pair of longswords, flew from the pillar and attacked them.  The battle was harrowing, but in the end the guardians were defeated, crumbling into dust as the magic that sustained them dispersed.  

Beyond the chamber, the League discovered the final resting place of a Wind Duke named Zosiel.  Interred with his remains were a silver diadem, a pair of long, slightly curved black horns with red tips, and a strange adamantine loop of metal attached to a long handle.  Bas-reliefs on the wall of the tomb showed a Wind Duke facing a cloaked creature with horns identical to the ones in the sarcophagus.  The creature was wielding the adamantine loop to control a sphere of absolute blackness, which was shown touching the Wind Duke, and destroying him.  

The no-longer naïve adventurers took their spoils, and their new-found knowledge and returned to Daggerford.  Vladius suggested they approach his master, Delfen Ondabar, with the information they had discovered and seek his advice.  This they did, and the old mage was delighted to see the ancient artifacts.  He told the group that the Wind Dukes had been a race of djinni generals of the Calim Empire in what was now Calimshan.  Their ancient foes were the armies of Memnonnar, led by the great efreet general Memnon in service to Kossuth, the elemental Lord of Fire.  The Era of Skyfire ended thousands of years ago in the destruction of both genie-led empires and the creation of the Calim Desert.  The Scepter of Calim was a symbol of the djinn’s sovereignty in the lands south of what was now the River Agis, until it was shattered by the elven High Mages of Keltormir.  It was now known as the Shattered Scepter of Calim.  It was rumored that the djinni buried their dead in the cold, unclaimed lands of northern Faerun, putting them far beyond the grasp of Memnon’s tomb-raiding legions.  Delfen also knew that the strange metal loop was called a Talisman of the Sphere, used to control Spheres of Annihilation, which were holes in the continuity of the multiverse, destroying anything they touched.  After the Era of Skyfire, it was rumored that the Wind Dukes scattered the Spheres to the corners of the planes.

Far more disturbing to Delfen was the information the adventurers had wrung out of Filge.  Delfen himself had recently unearthed increasing evidence of strange, undead creatures infested with tiny green worms stalking the Forlorn Hills.  If what half Filge said was true, Daggerford could be in great danger.  At his urging, the League decided to investigate the matter further, starting with the Ironeater Mine.


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## R-Hero

Civilar Hawk Veritas, (Capt. America)
Male Aasimar Paladin (CW) 6-Anointed Knight 2 

hp 77; Init +0; Spd 20; 

AC:23 (Flatfooted:23 Touch:10); Divine Shield 28

Atk +11/6 base melee, +8/3 base ranged; 

+12/7 (1d10+4, +1 Sword, bastard); 
+12/7 (1d6+4, +1 Shield, heavy spiked); 

SQ: Daylight, Darkvision 60 ft., 
Resistance: Acid, Electricity & Cold 5, 
Unbroken Flesh Damage Reduction: 3/- (Annointed Knight) 

SV Fort +16, Ref +8, Will +12; 
STR 16, DEX 10, CON 14, INT 12, WIS 12, CHA 22.

Skills: Bluff +9, Craft (Alchemy) +4, Diplomacy +9, Disguise +9, Gather Information +9, Intimidate +9, Knowledge (Arcana) +4, Listen +3, Speak Language +5, Spellcraft +4, Spot +3. 

Feats: Ancestral Relic, Divine Shield, 
Exotic Weapon Proficiency: Sword, bastard, Improved Shield Bash

Possessions: 
*Veritas Family Relic*  
+1 Bastard Sword of Stunning, Holy and Lightning Surge (8,335 gp);  
2d6 extra damage (quickened action) Holy & Lightning, 
Stun Resist DC 20 Reflex (Failure= 1d4+1 rounds stunned)
Charisma Based, +6 times a day.
Sunder Resistance (Hardness 22 Hp 25 Anointed Knight)

+1 Shield, heavy spiked (2,010 gp). +1 Full plate (2,650 gp).
Circlet of Persuasion (4,500 gp); Amulet of Natural Armor +1 (2,000 gp);
Cloak of Charisma +3 (Spc. Order) (9,000 gp).
+2 Unholy Burst Dagger (32,000) : Coin: gp (3536)

All Weapons wielded by Hawk are Good aligned for damage reduction.
Turn Undead 9 times a day

And then there is always Alieese……


----------



## gfunk

BTW, for those of you who are wondering why a LG paladin is walking around with an unholy burst dagger . . . he intends to destroy it to power his ancestral relic (rules are in the BoED).


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

Wow, it seems the group has ended the confrontations without killing their opponents. Impressive !!!

I doubt the next installment will be as peaceful, though. 

Great update and interesting character! Joachim, will we get to see Gideon as well (although we know he didn't make it) ??? Pleeeeeaaaase...


----------



## JollyDoc

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE…PART 2

Before the League had a chance to begin their investigation of Ironeater’s mine, a message was received by Gideon from none-other-than Balabar Smenk.  The missive requested a meeting with the League, and implied subtle threats against both Valkus Dun, and Melinde, a paladin of Tyr whom Gideon had been raised with, and who was like a sister to him.  Reluctantly, the meeting with Smenk was arranged.  The mine manager was quite forthcoming with the young adventurers, relating to them that he was terrified of the cultists, and that he had been pressured and blackmailed into aiding them.  He told of finding the severed head of one of his trusted assistants in his bed recently, a clear message of what would befall him if he betrayed the cult.  Smenk argued that, though his businesses practices might be somewhat suspect, he was, after all, just that…a business man, while the cultists were mad men who posed a far greater threat to Daggerford.

The members of the League agreed to Smenk’s proposal, even though they had planned all along to investigate the mine any way.  Grim knew that Derwin Ironeater’s mine was well guarded by hired henchmen, and that the group would not be able to just waltz in.  Shay and Vladius took it upon themselves to begin visiting some of the dives frequented by the Ironeater miners.  It wasn’t long before they found a couple of disgruntled souls.  After a few drinks, and promises that Derwin Ironeater would get his, the miners agreed to create a diversion so that the members of the League could sneak into the mine.

This distraction came in the form of setting fire to several store houses in the main compound in the middle of the night.  While the guards responded to the disaster, the adventurers made their way into the main mine shaft.  It wasn’t long before they found a boarded-up, apparently unused passageway, which led to an elevator descending even deeper into the earth.

At the bottom of the shaft, they found themselves in a vast, domed hall.  One end was filled with a dark pool, while the other end bore three locked doors.  The northern door bore banners with the symbol of Myrkul, and the eastern door bore the symbol of Bane.  The western door was unmarked.  Immediately, the band was set upon by a pair of tieflings, abyssal-blooded creatures who wore tabards bearing the symbol of Bane.  Easily defeating the guards, the League decided to investigate the door bearing that dark god’s symbol first.  Beyond, they found a complex populated by undead skeletons, crazed fanatics (some of them recognizable as locals from Daggerford), and more tieflings.  Ultimately, they faced, and killed a powerful priest of Bane named Theldrick and several of his minions.  Among Theldrick’s belongings, they discovered two pieces of parchment.  The first was addressed to Theldrick by an unknown writer.  It spoke of Kyuss, and told of him being a herald for some sort of Overgod.  It made mention that “the three sundered faiths shall be made whole,” and stated that the worm-ridden undead in the Forlorn Hills needed to be captured to provide answers for shepherding in the Age of Worms so that the Overgod might live.  There was also an odd description of something called the Ebon Aspect, which “stirs within the pool, but still is not ready to emerge.”  Lastly, it made clear the fact that Smenk had become a liability and had to be eliminated, and that agents should be sent to the Lizard Marsh to find some secret that could be found among the lizardfolk there.  The second missive was even more cryptic, obviously written by Theldrick, but referring to someone called the Faceless One, and another called Grallak Kur.  This second individual was identified as being some sort of seer from the Underdark, who was having visions of worms, and some greater power behind them.  

Finding no further information among the Banites, the League returned to the dark cathedral, and this time entered the unmarked door.  Beyond, they found themselves in a series of natural caves infested with grimlocks, strange humanoids from the Underdark who lacked eyes.  A running battle with these savages eventually brought the adventurers to their chieftain.  During the fierce battle, the League members were stunned to see first a naked human man, and then a nude drow woman emerge, battered and beaten, from the caves of the grimlocks.  The two newcomers aided the struggling adventurers, the human using a gleaming sword, and the drow using magic.  After the chieftain and his warriors were dispatched, the former prisoners told their tales.  The human was Hawk Veritas, a civilar of the Waterdavian Guard, dispatched to the garrison at Daggerford.  He had been waylaid by what he assumed were bandits on the road, and though he fought well, he had been overwhelmed.  When he had awoken, he found himself in the clutches of the grimlocks.  The drow woman said her name was simply Storm (“Drow?” Giovanni interrupted at this point, staring at the elven woman across from him.  “Yes,” Storm replied, removing a comb from her hair and instantly transforming into a black-skinned, white-haired drow elf.)  She claimed to be a renegade from Menzoberranzan, who had been fleeing her kinsmen with two companions when they were ambushed by grimlocks.  Her companions had been killed outright, but she had been kept alive as entertainment for the chief.  It was she that had delivered the killing blow to the brute.  Hawk and Storm decided to journey on with their saviors further into the grimlock caves, and they soon came upon one last band of them.  These all bore tattoos of the dead god Bhaal carved into their chests.  Their leader was a priest, Grallak Kur as it turned out, who had a pair of beholder eyes sewn into his eye sockets.  Kur and his barbarians were killed in a largely one-sided fight, and the party removed another scroll from the priest’s corpse.  The words it contained were rambling and disjointed, but basically stated that a great power was growing in the pool in the Dark Cathedral, and that this power would serve the Ebon Triad as a champion.  It went on to say that with the return of Kyuss, the Age of Worms was finally at hand.

Guessing at what lay behind door number three, the League returned to the Dark Cathedral, more wary than ever now of the black pool at its center, and proceeded through the portal marked with the symbol of Myrkul, Lord of the Dead.  A literal labyrinth greeted them as they entered the lair of the Deathbringers.  The twists, dead-ends and switch-backs were a perfect set-up for an ambush, and it wasn’t long before several groups of bird-headed kenku assassins and sorcerers began hit-and-run strikes against the League and their new allies.  Eventually, the adventurers killed their assailants to the last man, and found their way through the maze to the inner sanctum of Myrkulites.  Here they faced several arcane acolytes of the Death Lord, and were further hindered by bizarre energies which put some of them in a hypnotic trance, and also by animate pillars with grasping hands that would grapple and hold them as they tried to pass.  Finally, they met the Faceless One himself, a man dressed in green robes and a leather mask set with iron studs, leaving only his eyes visible.  His hands were covered with mystical tattoos.  He proved to be a fearsome opponent, with a superior knowledge of the Weave, but in the end it was a matter of numbers versus power, and the League was victorious once again.  

Having defeated all three arms of the Ebon Triad, they beleaguered group returned one last time to the Dark Cathedral, only to find the elevator had been smashed beyond repair, and the black pool stirring.  From it emerged a creature that appeared to be a bizarre amalgamation of aspects of all three dark gods represented by the Triad.  It attacked immediately, fighting with a savage fury that nearly overwhelmed the already taxed League members.  However, teamwork and expert tactics kept them alive, and the Ebon Aspect was destroyed.  

With Gideon’s flight capability, the group was able to reach the top of the elevator shaft, only to find the mine abandoned.  They had spent two days in the depths of the mineshaft, and in that time it seemed that Ironeater had departed.  The gates were locked and a sign there proclaimed the mine closed until further notice.  When they arrived back in town (having left Storm at an abandoned mine office they had converted to a headquarters near the Whispering Cairn), they heard rumors that there had been a tragic accident at the mine, a fire which killed most of the employees.  Derwin Ironeater had left town shortly after, offering no word, even to his brother, of his destination.  While most of the members of the League went to report what they had found to Delfen Ondabar, Grim felt he had to go to his friend Derval and tell him the truth about his brother.  Derval, however, would hear none of it.  In anger, he dismissed Grim from his service.  Grim mourned the loss of his friend, but realized now that fate had set him upon a different path.  

Delfen was again very interested in the news his young pupil brought him, and even more dismayed to hear of both Smenk’s and Derwin Ironeater’s involvement.  He felt that Daggerford might no longer be a safe haven for the League, since obviously the influence of the Ebon Triad might spread even further.  He recommended that the band leave town for awhile, and he suggested a destination.  An acquaintance of his, a magister of Waterdeep named Marzena, who was currently assigned to Cromm’s Hold, a small barony on the edge of the Lizardmarsh, had recently reported her own findings of strange green worms in her vicinity.  Delfen wanted the group to go to Marzena and tell her their own discoveries, hoping that she might be able to shed more light on the situation.  Before they departed however, the League paid a last visit to Balabar Smenk.  Gideon informed him that his troubles had been dealt with, and that as far as he was concerned, they were done with each other.  He warned Smenk of dire consequences should the man ever threaten his loved ones again.
__________________________________________________________

The League set out for Cromm’s Hold the next day.  Civilar Veritas had reported in to the Daggerford garrison, and notified the commander, Sherlen Spearslayer, of all that had befallen him and what he had discovered beneath the Ironeater mine.  He told Spearslayer that he intended to continue the investigation by journeying to Cromm’s Hold.  Spearslayer agreed that this would be the wise choice, and granted him leave.  Storm, on the other hand, simply had no other allies or alternatives, and so she agreed to throw in her lot with the League.

The journey along the verge of the Lizardmarsh took several days, and was marred by a middle of the night attack by none other than Kullen and his gang.  Smenk had apparently sent them to ‘tie up any loose ends.’  The League showed them no mercy, and once they had been dealt with, the reluctant heroes vowed to pay Smenk back in full when they returned to Daggerford.

Upon arrival at Cromm’s Hold, they found it under siege by a small army of several dozen lizardfolk, all of them wearing baldrics of red-brown pelts, and sporting a red, eye-like tattoo circling their left eyes.  Several of them were trying to scale the upper battlements, while another contingent hammered at the main door.  A handful of the keep’s defenders were trying to repel both sets of invaders, but their efforts seemed to be futile, as more lizardfolk surrounded the hold, waiting to move up if any of their fellows should fall.  The adventurers wasted no time in their intervention, with Vladius hurling fireballs with great effect, while Shay stepped between shadows to arrive on the battlements to aid the soldiers.  The others provided support where needed, and it wasn’t long before the lizardfolk were in full retreat.  

When the League entered the keep, they found only Baroness Piann Cromm and thirteen soldiers still lived.  The baroness told her saviors that the lizardfolk first attacked two days ago without warning.  They were able to breach the main door with their first assault, but were beaten back.  However, when they left they took three soldiers with them into the Marsh, as well as the hold’s magister, Marzena.  Piann had no idea why the lizardfolk attacked, or their reasons for taking prisoners.  By their tattoos and baldrics, she identified them as members of the Redeye tribe, once one of the more peaceful tribes in the area.  However, according to reports, their leader, a shaman named Redeye, was slain a decade or so ago by a party of adventurers, only to return as a lich.  Since then, Redeye had supposedly transformed his followers into a brutal band of raiders.  

Gideon told the baroness of their purpose for coming to Cromm’s Hold, and offered the services of the League in retrieving Marzena and the missing soldiers if possible.  Once they had offered what aid they could to the wounded, the company set off on the trail of the lizardfolk into the Lizardmarsh.  Shay was able to track the raiders with relative ease, and after a day’s hard march through the swamp, they arrived at an incredibly ancient grove of mangaroo trees.  Within was the lair of the Redeye tribe.  No sooner had the band entered the cave-like lair beneath the trees, than they were set upon by hordes of lizardfolk, aided by harpies and one particularly brutal lizardfolk male, with black scales and acidic breath.  

At one point, the party entered a chamber in which stood a lone, stooped lizardman wearing necklaces and bracelets of animal’s teeth.  A large snake coiled near his feet.  Instead of attacking, however, he spoke of a truce in broken common.  He called himself Hishka, and said that he was the tribe’s shaman.  He begged the members of the League to hear him out, and told them that he disagreed with the aggressive direction in which Redeye was leading the tribe.  He said that Redeye was once a divine champion of Semuanya, and was generally tolerant of other races and willing to negotiate with humans.  Then, ten years ago, he was gravely wounded while leading a hunting party through the Marsh.  When he returned to the tribe, he was changed.  He appeared more draconic, and was certainly more violent.  He claimed that Talos, the god of destruction, had spared him, and he carried a shield bearing the standard of the Destroyer.  Under his leadership, the tribe began an aggressive series of raids against human settlements.  Two years ago, a strange blight of ravenous green worms ate through entire clutches of lizardfolk hatchlings in tribes throughout the Lizardmarsh.  With an entire generation wiped out, many tribes fell to desperation and depravity.  Others were forced to take shelter and wait for new warriors to come of age.  During this time, the Redeye tribe received a visitor…a black dragon female named Ilthane.  She told Redeye that the magisters of Waterdeep were responsible for the plague of worms, and urged him to lead his tribe to war.  In return, she offered to guard the tribe’s latest egg clutch, and even left one her own eggs as a sign of good faith.  Hishka was suspicious of Ilthane and her motives, and felt that Redeye’s war would lead only to the tribe’s ruin.  The offer he now made to the League was for them to slay Redeye, allowing him to take control of the tribe and convince them to cease their reign of terror.

Gideon and his band cautiously agreed, and Hishka told them where to find Redeye and the prisoners he’d taken.  When they reached Redeye’s throne room, they found the king surrounded by two dozen of his finest warriors.  Battle was joined again, with Redeye claiming first blood by mortally wounding Shay with a hurled trident, followed by a gout of corrosive acid from his mouth.  The tide soon turned, however, and ultimately Redeye was defeated.  Hishka was true to his word, and ordered his people to stop all hostilities against the League.  Still, he required one more service of the heroes.  Since his tribe was already crippled by the loss of their hatchlings, and now further so by the death toll accumulated by the League, the shaman intended to take his remaining warriors and travel to other tribes to recruit new fighters and females of breeding age.  This would mean leaving the current clutch of eggs unguarded, however.  Once more, Gideon acquiesced, and Hishka showed him to the egg chamber.  Its water-covered floor was filled with hundreds of tiny, pale leathery eggs.  In the midst of them stood a halfling-sized black egg.  Also in the room were a squad of eight kobolds, black of skin, with a long fin running like a crest from their heads down their backs.  Hishka first informed the adventurers that these creatures were left by Ilthane as guardians, but that he did not trust them.  Then he told the kobolds that the League had been hired by him to assist in guarding the eggs, after which he took his leave. 

Hawk’s first action was to subtly scan the room for the presence of evil.  He found it immediately in the kobolds, but was surprised to find the black egg not only radiating evil, but radiating hundreds of individual auras.  Hawk relayed this message to Gideon, who flew out over the water to investigate the egg.  Immediately, the kobolds attacked, and almost as quickly were dispatched.  Gideon then dragged the egg from the water and onto dry land, but careful inspection gave no further information.  The group decided to wait for Hishka’s return before taking any more actions.   In the meantime, they were able to speak with Marzena and tell her of their reasons for seeking her out.  She was interested in hearing the full story, and was grateful for her rescue.  

When Hishka returned, Gideon told him of what had occurred with the kobolds, and what they had discovered about the egg.  The shaman gave his permission to open the egg, and when Grim did so, hundreds of writhing green worms spilled out onto the sandy floor, only to shrivel up and die moments later.  If the egg had hatched within the pool, the horrible parasites would surely have attacked the hatchlings.  Hishka thanked the League profusely, and promised his tribe would engage in no further hostilities against the humans.

The League and their charges made their way back to Cromm’s Hold, only to find the soldiers and the baroness in a panic.  Guilt ridden, they told the group how, over a year ago, their former magister had gone on an exploration mission into the swamp, but had returned changed.  He seemed to have contracted some sort of wasting disease, which soon claimed his life.  However, he rose again minutes later, with writhing, green worms pouring from his mouth, eyes and nose.  Horrified, but unable to bring themselves to slay their former comrade, the soldiers had locked the creature in a cellar storeroom.  Even Marzena was not aware of this.  When the lizardfolk attacked, they had apparently weakened the lock on the door to the room, and soon after the League had departed, the thing had broken free.  It had since dragged two other soldiers downstairs with it, and somehow transformed them as well.  The party wasted no time in descending to the sublevel of the hold, and there they came face-to-face with their first spawns of Kyuss.  The creatures were truly horrific, causing even Grim’s stout heart to quail.  When they attacked, they did so by plucking bloated worms from their own flesh and flinging them at the adventurers.  One fireball later, the undead were destroyed (along with most of the basement of the hold).  The worms had begun burrowing into the flesh of their victims as soon as they made contact, but Grubber was quickly able to kill the vermin with a magical removal of disease.  

Now that Cromm’s Hold was truly secure, the company prepared to take their leave.  Marzena agreed to accompany them, but to Waterdeep rather than back to Daggerford.  She said that she had no more information about the worms and their hosts than Delfen had already provided.  However, she knew of a man in Waterdeep that was a friend to both she and Delfen.  He was a sage and scholar of some note by the name of Dagsumn.  If anyone could properly investigate all of these occurrences and make sense of them, he could.
____________________________________________________

The journey to Waterdeep was blissfully uneventful.  Upon arrival there, Marzena and Hawk separated from the rest of the group to report in at the barracks of the guard.  Marzena gave directions to Dagsumn's home, and so the others made their way across the vast metropolis.  There were many celebrations and parades going on throughout the City of Splendors, as it seemed that some event called the Champion’s Games was due to occur in the next couple of weeks.

Dagsumn and his wife Karyss greeted the adventurers cordially, and Dagsumn in particular was intrigued when he learned that Delfen had referred them to him.  He listened with interest as they told their tale and showed him the artifacts they had recovered so far, including the pickled green worm from Filge’s, Zosiel’s diadem, the pair of demon horns and the talisman of the sphere.  He told them that it would take him some time to fully research the information and asked them to leave the objects with him for the next ten-day.  In the meantime, he recommended an inn to them known as the Crooked Stair, located in a section of the City Ward known as the Midnight Muddle, and run by a gnome friend of his named Tarquin Shortstone XXVI.  

There was still the matter of Shay.  The group had brought their friend’s body with them under the effects of a Gentle Repose spell, hoping to lay him to rest with honor and respect in Waterdeep.  However, when Hawk found them again, he told them that the garrison commander was eager to meet them, and was very grateful for their assistance, not only in saving Cromm’s Hold, but also in rescuing Marzena.  The company had also brought along a dispatch from Hishka suing for peace between his people and Waterdeep, and this too earned the League members high praise from the commander.  He rewarded them by calling upon his contacts within the church of Tyr to restore Shay to life.  Grumpy, but none the worse for ware, the rogue/scout gratefully greeted his companions.

The young adventurers allowed themselves to relax and enjoy the sights and sounds of the city over the next several days.  Shay took to frequenting some of the more ‘colorful’ areas of town in the late evening.  On one such evening, as the group gathered in the common room of the Crooked Stair, Shay took his leave as usual, only to return a few minutes later, walk up to Tarquin, and stab him in the chest.  The room immediately became a mob scene.  Shay tried to slip out the door in the chaos, but his friends pursued him and were forced to subdue him into unconsciousness.  Grubber, in the mean time, ministered to Tarquin, keeping him from death.  When the city watch arrived, they demanded that the party turn Shay over to their custody, despite the group’s vehement protest that their friend was not acting at all normally, and they suspected he was ensorcelled.  Nevertheless, he was arrested and hauled away.

Later that night, Shay walked back into the common room.  Needless to say, this created another uproar, but Gideon assured Tarquin that he was safe, and Shay himself seemed to have no idea what was going on, and certainly had no recollection of having stabbed anyone.  The following day, the entire group trooped down to the city jail and presented Shay to the watch as irrefutable proof that if they indeed had him in custody, how could he now be standing before them?  The watch commander informed them that, as it so happened, their had been a prisoner transfer request during the night to transport Shay to the dungeons beneath Castle Waterdeep, and during the transfer, Shay had escaped.  He thanked the civic-minded heroes for recapturing him, and Shay was promptly arrested once again.

Furious, the adventurers protested, only to be told that a magister would hear the case the following day.  Hawk insisted on being allowed to stay at the jail overnight with Shay to ensure he didn’t ‘escape’ again.  That night, a detail from Castle Waterdeep arrived, once more requesting a prisoner transfer.  Hawk wanted to accompany them, but was ordered not to.  He returned to the inn and informed his companions what had transpired.  The next morning, the group went to the castle dungeons, only to be told that no such transfer had been ordered nor had taken place.  When Hawk examined the log, he found no evidence of Shay having been brought to the complex.  

At this point, Hawk left to find Marzena and tell her what about the strange events.  Meanwhile, Gideon and Grubber hit upon an idea to cast a spell allowing them to locate specifically Shay’s distinctive rapier.  The spell pointed them towards Dock Ward, and once there, specifically to an abandoned warehouse called Sodden Hold.  They had left word for Hawk where to find them, and it was at this point that he rejoined them, bringing with him another civilar that he introduced as Dwilt Riddick.  Marzena had been very concerned about what had happened to Shay, and she suspected the watch might be compromised.  She knew Dwilt personally, and knew that he had an impeccable reputation, and so had sent him to investigate.

Inside the warehouse, the company was attacked almost immediately by what appeared to be living crates, but which actually turned out to be shape-shifting creatures called mimics.  After defeating these creatures, Grubber determined that the trail led still deeper into the hold.  They soon came upon a cell block, in which they found an unconscious Shay as well as a young noble named Tryssia Lanngolyn, a magister named Gattel Watam, who seemed to have lost his mind, and two members of the watch named Martal and Regim.  Shay was revived, and had little memory of his captivity.  Tryssia was released and escorted to the street by Dwilt.  Watam seemed beyond help, and so was left temporarily locked in his cell for safekeeping.  As for Martal and Regim, while the group was assisting the other prisoners, the two watchmen produced swords from beneath the straw in their cell, opened the door effortlessly, and attacked!  The party managed to kill them, but not before they almost slew Shay a second time.  To the amazement of all, upon their deaths, the two watchmen transformed into gray-skinned, white eyed creatures.  Vladius had heard of these types of beings before, but had never personally encountered doppelgangers until now.  This explained much.  If doppelgangers were in the city, they could have infiltrated all levels of government.  

Dwilt and Hawk now insisted that they press on into the hold to see if there were more of the creatures hidden there.  They came upon a, water-filled shaft that seemed to go deep underground.  With Grubber conferring the ability to breath water upon all of the group, they set off into the under level.  They found themselves in a vast underwater chamber, occupied by a gigantic octopus.  They defeated the monster, and then swam to the top of the chamber, where they found a mechanism to drain it of water.  Exiting the room, they were assailed by more doppelgangers, this time in their natural form.  After dispatching this group, they began exploring the warren of underground chambers.  

At one point, they found a room with documents detailing numerous noble families and government institutions that had been corrupted.  Later, they entered a chamber and beheld and astounding sight!  Seated and bound were likenesses of each one of them, excluding Dwilt!  Immediately suspecting a trap, the League members attacked their doubles, and their twins responded by bursting their bonds and retaliating…all except Hawk’s double.  Oddly enough, Hawk attacked his own double mercilessly, even after the others had been slain and revealed as doppelgangers.  The other party members tried to stop him, suspicious of his actions, only to have him turn on them.  Forced to kill him, they were stunned to find that Hawk was a doppelganger!  The real Hawk was the one tied to the chair!  He said that he had been captured almost a week ago, and had been held here ever since, all along thinking those around him were truly his friends and had been captured as well.  How deep did this corruption go?

Proceeding on, the companions made their way through a maze of mirrors, attacked hit-and-run by doppelgangers all along. Finally, they came to a sort of throne room, which contained a stranger apparatus comprised of a table with straps, tubes and pipes coming out of it.  The throne was occupied by Delfen Ondabar!  He greeted the heroes as friends, but by this time they were unwilling to listen to more lies.  They attacked, and the wizard retaliated.  His magical skill certainly matched that of Ondabar, but it was only a matter of time before he was defeated.  Not surprisingly, upon his death, he too reverted to doppelganger form, but did not appear the same as the others.  Vladius knew him to be a greater doppelganger, one who was capable of actually absorbing the identities of those he mimicked, although his guise as Delfen seemed to be just that, a cosmetic façade, for when he had begun hurling spells, his appearance had changed to that of an older human.

A search of the doppelgangers chambers turned a host of forged and original documents detailing Waterdeep treaties, merchant dealings, and religious papers.  In addition, there was a missive bearing the message:  “I have a task for you, thrall.  Meet me at the sewer junction beneath Brian’s forge and I will give you the details.  There are some troublesome small minds that must be removed.”  It was signed with some sort of symbol made to look like a spiraling tentacle (identical to one tattooed on the greater doppelganger’s forehead).  So, it seemed someone else had ordered the doppelgangers to assassinate the members of the League, but whom and why?  It seemed that the answers might be found at the forge of Brian the Swordmaster, a well-known craftsman in the city. 

On the return trip to the surface, however, the League found that the water chamber was occupied again.  A previously hidden door was now open on the opposite side of the room, and standing in the passage beyond it were a pair of drow males armed with crossbows, and a horrible looking creature dressed in robes, with a bulbous head and four tentacles where its mouth should be.  An illithid!  Immediately, a blast of mental power surged from the mind-flayer, stunning several members of the group.  The illithid then withdrew, but the drow took up the assault.  After a short, but hectic battle, the drow were killed but no sign of the illithid remained, nevertheless it seemed the mastermind behind the mystery had been revealed.

The group immediately sought out Marzena, and turned over to her all of the information they had discovered, telling her of their intent to now follow the trail into the sewers beneath the city streets.  They made their way to Brian’s forge, and there, Hawk and Dwilt had several watchmen cordon off the block while the League descended into the sewers.  Over a period of two to three hours, the company searched the sewer tunnels, and eventually found an older, disused section which led into a series of natural caves.  Here they encountered more drow thralls, including a priestess of the Spider Queen (much to Storm’s horror).  Deeper and deeper they journeyed, fighting many horrific aberrations along the way, including a naga and a pair of octopoid creatures which were capable of scaling walls and whose gaze dulled the reflexes of any who met it.  Beyond one massive pair of double doors they encountered a marble statue of a brain, which had the power to dominate the minds of those in its vicinity.  This they destroyed, and found a laboratory beyond it, with a short corridor leading to a balcony overlooking a cavernous cathedral.  Here they found the mind-flayer once more, hovering over a large pool filled with swimming, tadpole like creatures.  The illithid had another pair of the octopoid creatures with him, and the battle was joined in earnest.  

Grubber detailed the struggle in full for Giovanni, telling of how the illithid was by far the most puissant opponent they had thus far encountered.  He was a sorcerer, and used his spells and mental abilities to devastating effect.  It was here that Gideon fell.  He made a suicidal charge at the mind-flayer, attempting to draw its attention away from Dwilt and Grimm.  The illithid electrocuted the aasimar with a point-blank lightning bolt fired into his chest.  His death was not in vain, as his companions did indeed capitalize on the opportunity, and eventually brought the vile sorcerer, and his octopins down. 

 A search of the illithid’s chambers turned up a ledger.  It detailed the creature’s recent business transactions in rare and dangerous items with patrons throughout Waterdeep.  The most recent transaction listed a payment for the sale of an ancient relic listed as the Apostolic Scrolls.  It took place between the illithid and one Prendergast Brokengulf!  In addition, there was a notation that Brokengulf had also paid the mind-flayer to assassinate the members of the League!
____________________________________________________

Within a few days of their return from the illithid’s abode, the party was contacted by Dagsumn.  He invited them to dinner, saying that he had the information they had requested.  Of the relics from the Wind Dukes, he could only say that they were not directly related to the Age of Worms, but all of the other clues pointed to the involvement of a minor deity of the creation and mastery of undead called Kyuss.  The worm-infested undead were the most notorious (and, he noted, least powerful) of Kyuss’ spawn, and their increasing presence in the region indicated that the cult was becoming more powerful.  The cult had traditionally been small, but the evidence provided suggested that the Ebon Triad was now involving itself with the cult.  Tales of the Age of Worms were ancient, Dagsumn said, and it was often known by other names such as the End Times, the Dark Age and the Eternal Ruin.  It was an ancient set of prophecies that spoke of a transformation of the world, of a time when life would give way to something else.  These prophecies were recorded in certain rare texts such as the Book of Vile Darkness, the Libris Mortis, the Necronomicon and the Apostolic Scrolls.  At this point, Dwilt interrupted, telling Dagsumn of what they had discovered in the sewers, and especially the illithid’s reference to the Apostolic Scrolls and Brokengulf.  Dagsumn’s face darkened at this news.  He told them that the scrolls were reputed to have been penned by Kyuss himself and detailed the creation of a horrible undead creature known as the ulgurstasta, which was in turn capable of consuming the living and regurgitating them as undead.

Dagsumn suggested that the League investigate Brokengulf further, but cautioned that he was a very powerful man in the city, with powerful allies, and they could not simply confront him without hard evidence (the word of a mind-flayer notwithstanding).  It was at this point that the idea to infiltrate the Champion’s Games was born.  Dagsumn arranged a meeting between the adventurers and Celeste, who in turn introduced them to Ekaym Smallcask…


----------



## gfunk

That's . . . THREE MODULES in one post!!  The mother of all updates -- great job!


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## lucasbaltasar

Thanks for a great story hour!  Well written, lots of action, full of powergaming tips and interesting character builds; its got everything a story hour needs!  I'm a (somewhat) long time lurker who has transferred over from your Shackled City thread and I have to say that I am enjoying reading about your exploits more then ever, and you have compelled me to post and say so.

I can't help but feel a little disappointed that you didn't start writing about AOW from the beginning as I would have liked to have seen a more detailed description of the early adventures.  Oh well.   

Did the group fall for Theldrick's trap in TFOE?  Are Shay and Gideon the only two characters that have died?  I seem to remember reading someone from your group posting about the extreme deadliness of this adventure path, but two deaths in four installments isn't too bad for a large party.  Also, given the superhero nature of the group, did you at all play up the Doctor Doom aspects of the Faceless One?


----------



## JollyDoc

lucasbaltasar said:
			
		

> Thanks for a great story hour!  Well written, lots of action, full of powergaming tips and interesting character builds; its got everything a story hour needs!  I'm a (somewhat) long time lurker who has transferred over from your Shackled City thread and I have to say that I am enjoying reading about your exploits more then ever, and you have compelled me to post and say so.
> 
> I can't help but feel a little disappointed that you didn't start writing about AOW from the beginning as I would have liked to have seen a more detailed description of the early adventures.  Oh well.
> 
> Did the group fall for Theldrick's trap in TFOE?  Are Shay and Gideon the only two characters that have died?  I seem to remember reading someone from your group posting about the extreme deadliness of this adventure path, but two deaths in four installments isn't too bad for a large party.  Also, given the superhero nature of the group, did you at all play up the Doctor Doom aspects of the Faceless One?




Welcome Lucas!  It's always a pleasure to hear from a new poster.  I understand your disappointment, but I truly had not intended to write this new SH when we embarked upon this AP.  It was the readers who encouraged and inspired me, as always.  Unfortunately, I wasn't taking notes thru those first adventures and could not have done them justice, plus, if I'd started from the beginning now, I would never catch up!

If by Theldrick's trap, you mean getting trapped inside the temple while the priests snipe them from the balcony, the answer is no.  The group approached from the east, coming right thru Theldrick's chambers and forcing him and his crew to make a fighting retreat to the temple, where they made their final stand, with the PC's on the balcony with them!

As far as the deadliness of this AP, I would agree that it is, but bear in mind this is a group of 8 PC's!  For even two to have died so far is fairly impressive (make that three after tonight's session   ).

You know, I never even thought about the Doc Doom aspect (slaps self in forehead).  What a great idea!


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## Neverwinter Knight

I love what you have done with the recap, JollyDoc. Not only did it take a lot less time, but it also fits the story, as it has been told from Jovanni's perspective, so far. Also, the pressure of running behind is off your shoulders & I'm prefer getting current pieces of the story that go together with the spoilers you and your players provide...so who bit the dust, anyway?     




			
				JollyDoc said:
			
		

> You know, I never even thought about the Doc Doom aspect (slaps self in forehead).  What a great idea!



Yeah, plus the Faceless One could have made a great reoccuring villain! Too, bad...


----------



## Solarious

*sits back and steeples hands*

Eeeexcelent. Everything is in place. [/Mr. Burns]

*munches on popcorn and reads*


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## JollyDoc

Neverwinter Knight said:
			
		

> ...so who bit the dust, anyway?





Ah...now that would be spoiling the fun.  Don't worry...you shouldn't have to wait long.  As it stands, I have three posts to make, and I will be exactly current where with the group is in real play time.  I hope to have at least two posts up this week...


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## Krud

Good stuff as always JollyDoc.   



			
				JollyDoc said:
			
		

> Ah...now that would be spoiling the fun.  Don't worry...you shouldn't have to wait long.  As it stands, I have three posts to make, and I will be exactly current where with the group is in real play time.  I hope to have at least two posts up this week...





Two more posts this week?  Well, I'm going to enjoy this while it lasts


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## Joachim

Giovanni levelled this week!  Changes, as always, are underlined.  Not too much to change here, but I did pick up Empower SLA, which means I can now Mortalbane, Empower, and Maximize my Eldritch Spear at least 3/day for an average of 70 damage at a range of 250 feet! YAY!

*Giovanni Vito, aka "Havok" (Warlock 9)*
----------------------------------------------------------------------

*Medium Humanoid (Human)*
*Hit Dice:* 9d6+18 (52 hp)
*Initiative:* +4
*Speed:* Move 30' (6 squares)
*Armor Class:* 18 (+4 Dex, +4 Armour), 14 touch, 14 flat-footed
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +6/+5
*Attack:* _Eldritch Blast_ +10 ranged touch (7d6)
*Full Attack:* _Eldritch Blast_ +10 ranged touch (7d6)
*Space/Reach:* 5 feet/5 feet
*Special Attacks:* Invocations
*Special Qualities:* Human traits, _Detect Magic_ (Sp) at will, Deceive Item, DR 2/cold iron, Fiendish Resilience 1
*Saves:* Fort +9, Ref +8, Will +7
*Abilities:* Str 8, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 16
*Skills:* Concentration +19, Knowledge (planes) +11, Knowledge (religion) +11, Knoweldge (arcana) +11, Spellcraft +16 (+23 to identify scrolls with _detect magic_), Use Magic Device +15 (+22 for any check involving scrolls)
*Feats:* Noncombatant (Flaw), Absent-Minded (Trait), Sudden Still Spell, Sudden Maximize Spell, Mortalbane [Eldritch Blast], Spell Penetration, Maximize Spell-Like Ability [Eldritch Blast], Empower Spell-Like Ability [Eldritch Blast] 
*Environment:* Urban
*Organization:* Solitary or Murder (Gfunk, Ika et al)
*Challenge Rating:* 9
*Treasure:* Goods
*Alignment:* Chaotic Good

_Before you stands an unarmed and unassuming bookish young man of no more than twenty years, complete with thick spectacles.  As he clenches his fist, you swear that his hand is bathed in a sheen of dark energy. _

Giovanni was a member of a wealthy Sembian merchant family but was disowned for dabbling in the dark arts of the warlock.  He spends his days buried in books, trying to learn the secrets of his fiendish heritage as well as to hone his dark magical skills.

*COMBAT*

_*Detect Magic (Sp):*_ Giovanni can use _detect magic_ at will.

*Deceive Item:* Giovanni can take 10 on Use Magic Device, even if stressful situations would not normally allow him to do so (such as combat).

*Eldritch Blast (Sp):* The first invocation acquired by all warlock is the _eldritch blast._  The eldritch blast is a ranged touch attack that is treated as a 1st level spell and has a range of 60 feet.  At Giovanni's current level of power, his eldritch blast deals a base of 5d6 damage (7d6 with his _Greater Chasuble of Fell Power_).   

*Invocations (Sp):* Giovanni has acquired a small number of invocations that he can use.  Invocations are identical to spell-like abilities, with the exception that they have somatic components (only).  Invocations can be used at will with no limit in uses per day.  Giovanni has access to the following invocations:

*Least:*

_Eldritch Spear:_ The range of _eldritch blast_ increases to 250 feet.
_See the Unseen:_ Grants Darkvision 60 feet and _see invisibility_ (24 hour duration).
_Dark One's Own Luck:_ Grants CHA bonus to one save (included with Fort save above, 24 hour duration).

_*Lesser:*_

_Walk Unseen:_ Use _invisibility_ at will (24 hour duration)
_Flee the Scene:_ Use _dimension door_ with close range (25 feet + 5 feet every 2 levels) at will, and leave behind a _major image_ of self in its place.

*Fiendish Resilience (1):* As a free action once per day, Giovanni can call upon the dark forces to heal his wounds.  He gains fast healing 1 for 2 minutes (at higher levels the healing increases incrementally up to fast healing 5).

*EQUIPMENT*

_Greater Chasuble of Fell Power, +1 Cloak of Protection, +1 Ring of Charisma, Gloves of Fortunate Striking, Tunic of Steady Spellcasting, Spellsight Spectacles, Wand of Cure Moderate [26 charges], Wand of Cure Light [50 charges], Wand of Restoration [36 charges], Scroll of Death Ward, Scroll of Heal, Scroll of Ethereal Jaunt_.


----------



## Ika_Greybeard

*Vladius, aka "Pyro" (Evoker Wizard 8 Fire genasi 1)*
----------------------------------------------------------------------

*Medium Humanoid (Fire Genasi)+1 ECL*
*Hit Dice:* 8d4+16 (38 hp)
*Initiative:* +2
*Speed:* Move 30' (6 squares)
*Armor Class:* 16 (+3Dex, +3 Armour,Deflection +1), 13 touch, 14 flat-footed
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +4/+3
*Attack:* _Light Crossbow_ +6 (1d8)
*Full Attack:* _Light Crossbow_  +6 (1d8)
*Space/Reach:* 5 feet/5 feet
*Special Attacks:* Spells
*Special Qualities:* Outsider Traits,+1 bonus against Fire (increases every 5 lvls),No Access to Abjuration or Necromancy, Summon Familiar(Weasel) Control Flame 1/day(wooHoo)
Darkvision 60",Evocation Specialist.
*Saves:* Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +10
*Abilities:* Str 8, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 23, Wis 14, Cha 7
*Skills:* Concentration +18, Knowledge (planes) +17, Knowledge (religion) +11, Knoweldge (arcana) +17, Spellcraft +19,Knowledge (Nature)+17,Knowledge (dungeon)+17   
*Feats:* Noncombatant (Flaw), Absent-Minded (Trait), Sudden Widen, Sudden Maximize Spell,Tatoo Focus (Evocation),Spellcasting Prodigy,Scribe Scroll,Combat Casting,
*Environment:* Urban
*Organization:* Solitary or Murder (Gfunk, Joachim et al)
*Challenge Rating:* 9
*Treasure:* Goods
*Alignment:* Chaotic Neutral

_ Coming up the road toward you is a Tall Human looking Figure with fire red Hair. Most people would not take a second look at but you notice a malicous grin Spread across his face and a glint from his eyes as he begins chanting some arcane language you do not understand. _

Vladius was from Thay and was taken from his family at a young age to be raised by The red Wizards. After his escape he has vowed to travel and learn all he can and to never be a prisoner again to the likes of the Red Wizards.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Spelbook*All 0 level,1st LEVEL:Magic Missile,BurningHands,Mage Armor,Sleep,Enlarge Person,Expeditious Retreat,Charm Person,Grease,Identify,Color Spray,Detect Thoughts.
2ndLEVEL:Flaming Sphere,Alter Self, Invisibility, Scorching Ray,Web,Mirror Image,Blur,Rope Trick,Blindsight. 3rdLEVEL:Fireball,Haste,Fly,Lightning Bolt.4THLEVEL:Blistring Radiance,Icestorm,Polymorph,Evards Black Tentacles,Dimension Door,Otilkes Resilient sphere,Greater Invisibility, Charm Monster.


_Spells Per dayI] What He normalling has prepared If looking for a Fight    DC
0 Level   :4+1 Detect Magicx2,Ray of Frost,Ghost Sound.                            
1st Level:6+1:Magic Missilex4,Burning Hands,Identify,Grease,                    17 (18Evo)
2ndLevel:5+1:Alter Selfx2,Mirror Image,Scorching Rayx4                           18 (19Evo)
3rdLevel :5+1:Haste,Lightning Bolt, FireBallx4.                                        19(20Evo)
4thLevel: 3+1:Otilukes Resilient Sphere,PolyMorph,Dimension Door,Ice Storm20(21Evo)


*EQUIPMENT*

Amulet of Concious Effort, +2 Cloak of Resistance, +1 Ring of Protection, Pearl of Power 1stLevel, Tunic of Steady Spellcasting, Bracers of Armor+3,Headband of intelect +2,Lesser rod of Extend,ring of counterspell(Dispel Magic), Wand of Burning Hands [23charges], Wand of Magic Missile 3rd [10 charges],Wand of Enlarge Person (35 Charges),Wand of Magic Missile (7 charges),Wand of Charm Monster (3 charges).

Well If this is not correct or if I forgot something I am sorry Kinda Tired and got in a hurry._


----------



## Joachim

As kind of a supplement to Jollydoc's fine work, I am going to add my own personal updates to the story hour...excerpts from Giovanni's 'journal'.  The intent will be to add little bits here and there that might not well fit into the Story Hour, and give some insight to some of the 'table-talk' and group interaction.  Selfishly, it also gives me the opportunity to develop my own character without hogging time away from the other 8 humans sitting around the table...

Giovanni’s Journal Entry – Night 2 of the Champion’s Belt Games, Date Unknown

_This has to have been one of the strangest, however most eventful, days that I can recall.  Our team’s victory on the sands of the arena was quite flawless.  Prior to the combat, I was under the impression that my eldritch powers would be of paramount importance during this first round, and that I would use my teammates as protective fodder.  However, on the battlefield it immediately became quite apparent that these so-called ‘bumpkins’ are much, much, more than they seem.  The synergy and teamwork that the group utilizes is beyond impressive and far in advance of their professed 'exploits' against blind kobolds and fake zombies.

From studying the group I have ascertained their general tactics.  They attempt to funnel all combats through the dwarf, whose superior defensive capabilities allow him to act as a stoplog or floodwall of sorts, breaking the tide of their enemies’ advance.  Behind him the goliath and aasimar will generally emerge, dealing withering damage to their now-halted adversaries.  Dwilt’s role seems to be more in support, tripping and disarming as well as defending the front rank.  That one won’t shut up, constantly barking commands at the other team members; it is obvious that his orders have a palpable effect, and I have to admit that I find his words to be uplifting.

Behind this wall of armor, shields, and deadly weaponry the support group is protected.  Fire balls and lightning bolts are indiscriminate killers, but it appears that Pyro and Storm know how to use them discriminately.  The dark rogue continually rains death from range with his arrows, but he seems to be unsatisfied unless he closes to melee where he can strike a telling blow with his rapier.  I would hope that he would have the discretion to not go toe-to-toe with an enemy too far out of his class; thus far the stories I have heard speak to the contrary.

As far as their personalities are concerned, it is apparent that the group looks to Dwilt for guidance and leadership.  Based on their stories it was clear that the aasimar Gideon once held this role, but with his death Dwilt has somewhat less than begrudgingly assumed command.  Even Civilar Veritas seems to bow to the other officer’s decisions.  Something else that I have quickly noted is that there is a discernibly intense rivalry between Pyro and the goliath cleric, Grubber.  It seems that this rivalry is rooted in the goliath’s moral beliefs and Pyro’s rejection of any such code of behavior.  Also, Pyro believes that the goliath’s actions do not follow his professed beliefs; thus far, I have seen no evidence to support or contradict this claim but the genasi pokes, prods, and jibes constantly.  It is funny to hear Pyro rail on about the goliath’s vow to his patron, Grumbar, that will not allow him to take flight except under the most dire of circumstances.  That belief seems very odd, and could be potentially debilitating in the future.

Which leads me to their claims of the impending Age of Worms.  The story they have told me is far too long to detail in one night of writing.  Suffice to say, I am intrigued by the mysteries that they are chasing.  This Age of Worms that they speak of may be nothing more than the ramblings of some insane heretical priests…or insane heretical 'bumpkin' adventurers for that matter.  However, if they speak truth, there may be something much deeper and sinister going on.  For whatever reason I have gained their trust, and they have let me in to their little secret.  It could be that they see nothing more than the utility that can be afforded them by my magical capabilities.  How they will react if they are to learn the dark nature of these abilities remains to be seen.

As a group, we also made upwards of 1,000 gold coins in winning that fight, and I haven’t seen that kind of money since I left the manor house.  If nothing else, I could use the company…and the protection that this large group can offer._


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

Thanks, Joachim, for providing us with this "inside information". 

Ika_Greybeard, what's the deal between Vladius and Grubber? Is it just alignment differences?
Also, will you do anything about the Ice Storm (not very Pyro-like). Isn't there a feat called energy substitution for changing it to a Fire Storm (sorry, but it's been years since I looked in the books)?


----------



## Ika_Greybeard

Neverwinter Knight said:
			
		

> Thanks, Joachim, for providing us with this "inside information".
> 
> Ika_Greybeard, what's the deal between Vladius and Grubber? Is it just alignment differences?
> Also, will you do anything about the Ice Storm (not very Pyro-like). Isn't there a feat called energy substitution for changing it to a Fire Storm (sorry, but it's been years since I looked in the books)?





 Alignment difference player difference sometimes it is just good roleplaying plus he is Neutral Good but sometimes he plays like he is Lawful Good and I am by no means Lawful good. Plus Pyro does not believe in letting any one go(alive) be it guards or whatnot if they are in the enemy stronghold then they are the enemy no argument they are not just doing a job   and deserve no quarter.  Plus on the Ice Storm there is somethings that have resistance to fire Matter of fact there is alot of things that do.  I am going for archmage Prestige to get the Sculpting and substitution from that prestige.


----------



## LordVyreth

The Elemental Savant could work for you or Storm as well, though I have to admit they made the 3.5 version too restrictive.  If you can work out a compromise between 3.0 and 3.5 versions, though, it could be a decent choice.


----------



## gfunk

Storm is going for the Storm Mage (not sure if that is exactly what it is called) in the Stormwrack splatbook.  Elemental Savant was considered but lack of full spellcasting progression really hurts if you are an ECL race.

As Ika said, we had a long and thorough discussion as to what to do with the guards -- both before and after we fought with them.  I think you will like the role-playing dialogue once it is posted.


----------



## JollyDoc

ROUND 2

Giovanni sat in silence, staring at his hands and contemplating all that he had just heard.  He felt hollow inside.  He had arrived in Waterdeep thinking that he was worldly, that he had seen fantastic things and places.  Now he realized just how naïve he had been…and selfish.  He had been motivated by monetary gain…greed, to enter this tournament.  But these people…the things that they had been through, and were still going through.  He had heard the word ‘hero’ thrown about lightly all his life, but he had never understood the true meaning of the word until now.

“So what do you think?” Vladius asked.  “Are you with us, or are we gonna have to kill you?”
Giovanni looked up and smiled faintly.  To think, just a few hours ago he had thought the man an arrogant, pompous ass.  Now he knew for a fact that he was an arrogant, pompous ass…but his heart was in the right place.
“I’m with you, if you’ll have me,” he said simply.
“It’s settled then,” Dwilt said, offering his hand, which Giovanni gripped eagerly, “You’re one of us.  Welcome to the League.”
”I’ll brand you with our tattoo later,” Vladius smirked.
“What’s our next move, leader man?” Shay said to Dwilt from a shadow-shrouded corner.
“I overheard some of the other teams talking last night,” Dwilt replied.  “There’s a rumor about Brokengulf beating back a pack of ghouls years ago that used to lair in some old underground ruins south of this room called the Titan’s House.  They say he plugged the entrance to their warren with a stone seal in a pool there, but no one has ever tried to open it to verify this.  I suggest we start there.”
_________________________________________________

Later that night, after the other teams had retired, the eight companions slipped from their quarters, and out of the coenoby.  A long, natural tunnel led to a huge cave which resembled the coenoby, but was in a state of century-old abandonment.  It looked as if a surface structure once stood there, a cluster of stone houses that were buried under a million tons of rubble long ago.  Within the labyrinth of ceiling-high sections of ruined walls, the only remarkable feature was the idol that gave the cave its name, a ten-foot high, alabaster statue of a powerful giant armed with a mattock.  The cave floor sloped down to the south where a ten-foot deep pool of water was located.  A large stone plug was visible near the bottom at the eastern end.  

Dwilt ordered his team to spread out around the vast chamber and look for anything which might appear out of the ordinary, as if it might not belong there.  Grim took it upon himself to wade into the pool, his stony flesh carrying him straight to the bottom like an anchor.  His dwarven sense of stone-cunning told him that there was nothing natural about the plug, and that it hadn’t been there for very long…certainly no more than ten years.  He also noted that it wasn’t going to be an easy task to remove it.  

An hour or so passed as the group searched the Titan’s House from top to bottom, and came up with nothing.  “This is a dead-end, unless we want to work on dislodging that plug,” Dwilt said in resignation.
“That won’t be happening without a crane and hoist, or without a lot of noise and pounding,” Grimm observed.
“Maybe this is too obvious,” Giovanni said, almost to himself.  “It would be a convenient coincidence for us to ‘overhear’ a tale of Brokengulf plugging up some secret tunnel.  Maybe, since he obviously knows who you are, and probably why you’re here in the first place, it was a ploy to throw you off track.”
Dwilt thought for a moment, “Well, it’s certain we’re not going any further down here tonight,” he said.  “What harm can it do to check out some place less conspicious?  I say we make a trip upstairs.”

They retraced their steps back to the coenoby, and then down another tunnel on the opposite side, which emerged into a wide, ring-like corridor that was a mirror image to the main corridor in the level above.  Like that corridor, there were spiral staircases spaced at intervals along the hall, but they were blocked by locked iron gates.  
“What do you think?” Dwilt asked Shay as he examined one of the locks.
“Child’s play,” the rogue responded in a distracted voice.  Reaching into a pocket of his cloak, he produced a set of elaborate-looking lock picks, and set to work.  Within a matter of seconds, the hasp clicked open, and Shay stepped back with a bow and a flourish.  Grim stepped forward, and pulled back the gate.  It opened with an alarmingly loud shriek of rusted metal.  
“Damn it!” Dwilt cursed, looking quickly around for any signs that the wardens had been alerted.  
“There’s no help for it,” Shay said.  “This is probably the first time it’s been opened in decades.”

Quickly, the company slipped up the stairs, only to find the top similarly blocked.  Shay made even faster work of the second lock, and the group held their collective breath as Grim tried to open the gate as quietly as possible.  It was no use, and this time as the squeal of metal on metal faded, they heard voices in the distance.  “Did you hear that?”  “Come on!”  Shortly, they heard booted feet approaching.
“Gather round me, quickly!” Storm hissed as she stepped into the hallway.  The others obeyed without hesitation, trusting their team mate, thought they had no idea what she had planned.  The drow mage began muttering under her breath, moving her fingers in complex gestures.  With a final word, each member of the team saw all the others wink out of sight.  “There,” Storm whispered.  “We are hidden from view, but you must all stay near to me.  Each of you reach out and grab one another.  We must move together.”
“Not good enough,” Giovanni’s voice said.  “They might still bump into us, or hear us move.  Stay here.”  

Not waiting for approval, Giovanni called upon his innate magic to first render himself invisible by his own power, and then to briefly step between dimensions to travel several yards down the corridor, opposite the hall from where the wardens were approaching.  As the four guards appeared in the main passage, the warlock stamped his boots loudly on the stone, and then began running away from the rest of his group.  “That way!” the wardens shouted, and started after the sound of running feet.  Giovanni waited until he had led them far enough from his friends, and then silently stepped between dimensions again, rejoining the group.  
“That takes care of that,” he laughed quietly.  
“Not bad…” he heard Vladius say.  “You might just prove better than useless after all.”

Stealthily, the group moved down the hall from which the wardens had originally come, passing first through a mess hall, and then a guard room.  Beyond this, they entered a second, smaller circular passageway which had three other corridors branching off of it from each compass point.  The western passage led to some sort of workshop.  From the one to the north came the growl of a large feline and several porcine grunts.  Six identical cells opened off the hall, each closed by a metal gate.  To the south, two smaller passages branched off the main hall, but there were also three padlocked doors of iron-reinforced wood, each with a small barred window set into it.  It was here that the group chose to investigate first.

Peering into the first two doors, Shay saw what appeared to be empty cells.  Behind the third, however, he saw a figure curled in a corner on the far side.  He whispered to his companions what he had found.  
“I’ll go,” Giovanni volunteered, and once more he dimension doored, this time appearing inside the cell, next to the prisoner.  He could see that the bearded figure was human, but couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive.  Cautiously, he nudged the man with the toe of his boot.  Instantly, the man jerked up right, staring around wild-eyed and terrified.  It was at this point that the warlock realized he was still invisible, and for all the prisoner knew, he had just been touched by a ghost.  Giovanni quickly reappeared outside the door.  
“He’s alive,” he reported, “but I’m afraid I’ve probably scared him senseless.”
“Take me in,” Dwilt said.
“You’ll be visible,” Storm reminded him.
“I know,” the civilar replied, “but we need information, and he certainly won’t trust me if he can’t see me.”

Giovanni grasped Dwilt’s arm and transported the two of them back into the cell.  The prisoner’s eyes widened even further as he saw the armored form of the civilar simply appear before him.
“Peace,” Dwilt said, holding up his empty hands to show he was unarmed.  “My name is Dwilt Riddick.  I mean you no harm.”  The man stared blankly at him, uncomprehending.  
“Do you understand me?” Dwilt said, squatting down to bring himself to eye level with the prisoner.  The man stared at him another moment, then slapped his hand against his ears.  Dwilt understood.  He was deaf.  The civilar took one finger and began writing in the heavy dust on the floor.  ‘Dwilt,’ he wrote first, and then pointed at himself.  ‘Help you,’ he wrote next.  The prisoner looked at the writing, and then at Dwilt, a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes.  He pointed to his mouth, and shook his head.  Mute as well, Dwilt sighed silently.  Then the man began drawing in the dust himself.  As Dwilt watched, he made several squiggly lines, side by side, and then leaped to his feet, and ran to the cell door, sticking his hand between the bars and pointing towards the cell across the hall.  Dwilt stared at the lines for a moment.  Then, horror filled comprehension dawned on him.  Worms.  The man had drawn worms on the cell floor.  He stood up quickly and strode to the door.  “Open it,” he said.  He heard, but could not see Shay open the lock and swing open the door.  “Havok,” Dwilt said.  “Let him see you, and then take him back to the coenoby.  We’ll meet you there.”  Giovanni willed himself back into the visible spectrum, and the prisoner recoiled reflexively.  Quickly, Dwilt knelt to the floor again.  ‘Safe,’ he wrote, and pointed to the warlock.  The man nodded cautiously.  Giovanni stepped to him, took his hand, and vanished.

The others retraced their steps quickly and as quietly as possible back downstairs and to the coenoby.  They found Giovanni and the frightened prisoner safely in their quarters.
“Grubber,” Dwilt said, turning to the goliath, “can you do anything for him?”
“Possibly,” the priest rumbled.  Holding up his hands to show he meant no harm, he approached the man and laid his hands gently on both of his ears.  Chanting in a voice that sounded like the grinding of stones, he prayed to Grumbar.  When he was done, he removed his hands.  “Can you hear me?” he asked the prisoner.  “Can you tell me about the worms?” he asked.  At that, the man covered his face, and flung himself to the floor, curling into a ball.  Grubber knelt next to him for a moment, studying him closely, and then stood.  
“I’m afraid being deaf and mute is the least of his problems,” he sighed.  “He’s also insane.”
_________________________________________ 

 Grubber realized that the prisoner’s mental affliction was beyond his ability to mend, but he knew of a spell that might work.  The next morning, as the servants came in to the coenoby to serve breakfast, he sent word to Ekaym thru a runner, requesting that the merchant purchase a scroll bearing the spell from one of the local churches.

Once again, the other teams were gathered around the postings for the day’s matches.  The first competition was to be between Auric’s Warband and Drunken Devilry.  Impotent Rage would compete in the second match against the dwarves of Pitch Blade, and the final match would be Crazy Eight versus the Varmint Patrol.  As soon as the members of Pitchblade read the bracket, the three brothers glared murderously at their opponents, and as the morning wore on, they made a show of whetting their blades, and decorating their faces with war paint.

When the first match ended, Auric and Khellek were once more victorious, returning to the coenoby with a swagger and a smirk for the four remaining teams.  “Pitch Blade!  Impotent Rage!” called the warden, and the two teams moved to follow him.  At this point, the dwarves, Drusfan, Pharbol and Garlok by name, began shouting loudly at the members of Impotent Rage in dwarvish, and making obscene gestures.  
“What are they saying?” Vladius asked Grim.
“Oh…just something about your mother…and a donkey…and the garrison,” the mineral warrior replied.  “Don’t take it personally.”

As Pitch Blade stepped onto the elevator, each dwarf began uncorking flasks and upending them, tossing the empty bottles back down at their rivals.  When the lift returned, Vladius immediately cast an incantation around Shay, and the shadow walker faded from view.  Havok also rendered himself invisible.    Dwilt quaffed a potion of his own, and instantaneously grew to twice his normal size.  Vladius was again in the form of a mephit, as was his wont when he expected trouble.    

As the team reached the level of the arena, the crowd was already in a frenzy.  Talabir Welik stepped to the podium in the front of Brokengulf’s box.  “My lords and ladies, welcome to the second match in the quarter-final round of the Champion’s Games!  First I present to you, straight from the Storm Horn Mountains, the savage swordplay of Pitch Blade!”  The arena rumbled with the stamping of feet and roar of approval.  Talabir waited for the crowd to settle, and then resumed, “Their opponents, our local yokels-made-good from Daggerford, the caged fury that is Impotent Rage!”  This time the crowd surged to their feet, the thunderous accolades deafening.  Apparently, the underdog team had made quite the impression the previous day.  “On my mark...,” Talabir raised his hand, and then brought it down in a chopping motion, “Fight!”

In a flash, the three dwarves pushed themselves off from the wall behind them, and, to the amazement of the gathered spectators, took flight, drawing their bastardswords as they closed, their blades igniting in flames.  
“Uh-oh,” Vladius muttered, as he hovered over Dwilt’s shoulder, “they might be smarter than they look…which isn’t saying much.  Hang on for a second, and I’ll put you on even ground.”  As the wizard began weaving his magic, Dwilt felt his feet leave the ground, the power of flight responding to his will.  Just as Pharbol passed above his head, the giant civilar leaped leapt into the air, wrapping his chain around the dwarf’s weapon, and jerking it out of his hands to land in the dust at Grubber’s feet.  The dwarf’s eyes widened in disbelief, and then widened further in pain as a black-fletched arrow from Shay’s unseen bow lodged in his belly just beneath his breastplate.  

Garlok flew over Grubber’s head, but as he passed, the priest flung out his hand, rumbling a prayer as he did so.  Garlok suddenly felt himself drifting towards the ground, the magical flight that his potion had given him abruptly dispelled.  Just as Grubber finished his incantation, he saw Pharbol diving towards him.  The goliath just had time to bring his maul up and club the raging dwarf as he landed.  

While Dwilt was occupied with Pharbol, Drusfan used the opportunity to bypass the giant warrior, and charge straight towards the now unprotected Vladius.  However, so focused on his tiny prey was he that he failed to see Hawk rushing to intercept him at the end-point of his charge.  As the dwarf prepared to strike, the civilar smashed the flat of his sword against his skull.  Simultaneously, a burst of electricity from the blade jolted the barbarian, leaving him momentarily stunned and twitching.  Moving as quickly as his rocky form would allow, Grim closed to his incapacitated kinsman and slashed at him with his axe, leaving a gaping wound in the flesh of his thigh.

Although now grounded, Garlok was no less determined to reach his foes.  Screaming in incoherent fury, he lunged towards Hawk, and the civilar tried to pivot and bring his shield to bear, but the sheer fury and power of the dwarf’s charge all but bowled him over.  Garlok hacked at him, his flaming blade slicing into Hawk’s sword arm.  Though the steel burned like fire, the flames of the blade did no harm themselves to the celestial-tainted skin of the aasimar.  

Pharbol snarled, ignoring the pain of the arrow protruding from his gut, and dove for the ground, sweeping up his blade as he did so,  However, as he attempted to regain altitude, Dwilt’s chain entangled his feet, dropping him to the arena floor in a heap.  With an almost casual flick of his wrist, Dwilt then snapped the opposite end of his chain at the dwarf’s sword once more, again tearing it from Pharbol’s grasp.  Howling in rage, the barbarian rolled and scrabbled for the weapon, but before he could reach it, Grubber stamped one massive foot down upon it, and then cuffed the dwarf with the butt-end of his mallet, just as Dwilt’s chain lashed across the dwarf’s forehead, spilling blood into his eyes and temporarily blinding him.  

Drusfan still stood rigid and immobile.  The magic of Hawk’s blade had left him all but helpless, a fact which Vladius was more than happy to take advantage of.  Taking careful aim with one finger at the dwarf, from barely five feet away, the mephit mage blasted a volley of streaking magical missiles into the barbarian’s face.  As if by magic themselves, two of Shay’s arrows materialized between Drusfan's shoulder blades.  A gurgling grunt of pain was all the dwarf could manage.

As Garlok raised his sword to strike at Hawk again, the paladin brought the edge of his shield up directly beneath the dwarf’s chin.  Garlok’s head rocked back, throwing him off balance, and Hawk followed through, smashing the pommel of his own blade into the dwarf’s skull.  Another blast of energy surged from the sword, and Garlok’s eyes glazed over, just like his brother’s.  Suddenly, a corona of eldritch light flared around the stunned dwarf, and he sagged to his knees as Havok materialized behind him, his hands glowing with power.

“All together now!” Vladius shouted to Grim as the mineral warrior raised his axe to finish Drusfan once-and-for-all.  As the blade fell, another barrage of missiles from Pyro nearly exploded the dwarf’s head, and he collapsed without a sound.  

Pharbol bit at Grubber’s feet, still struggling to rearm his weapon.  Just then, a beam of green energy struck the dwarf, and he felt his strength leave him.  He struggled to stand, looking in confusion at the elf woman who had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.  Before he had a chance to register more than this, the breath was driven from him as Grubber drove the head of his hammer into his midsection.  As he doubled over, the damnable chain of the civilar behind him entangled his feet again, and he toppled to the ground.  Fortunately, he landed right beside his sword this time, and the oaf of a goliath was no longer standing on it.  Grabbing it triumphantly, he rolled to his stomach, intending to slice Grubber across both Achilles tendons, but three rapid slaps from the free end of Dwilt’s chain demanded his more immediate attention.  As he rolled again to ward off the giant warrior behind him, Grubber’s hammer dropped one final time on the base of his skull, snapping his neck like tinder.

Only Garlok remained, but in his stunned state he was far from a viable threat.  Hawk intended to subdue him into unconsciousness, thereby ending the match without further bloodshed, but his teammates seemed unwilling to show even that small bit of mercy.  In a flurry of axe blows, eldritch blasts, magic missiles, and hurled electrical orbs, the dwarf’s days as a gladiator were ended.
___________________________________________________

The applause and screams of the spectators seemed to threaten the very foundation of the Field of Triumph as they roared the name of their victors:  “Impotent…Rage!  Impotent…Rage!”  Only one face among them showed no sign of elation or joy…Prendergast Brokengulf.


----------



## Krud

JollyDoc said:
			
		

> The applause and screams of the spectators seemed to threaten the very foundation of the Field of Triumph as they roared the name of their victors:  “Impotent…Rage!  Impotent…Rage!”  Only one face among them showed no sign of elation or joy…Prendergast Brokengulf.




I know your game can be pretty hack and slash dominate, so I'm not really suprised by the great teamwork and battles that the party seems to get involved in. Great stuff again


----------



## JollyDoc

Krud said:
			
		

> I know your game can be pretty hack and slash dominate, so I'm not really suprised by the great teamwork and battles that the party seems to get involved in. Great stuff again




Yeah, they do work well together, but bear in mind, gladiatorial situations are somewhat artificial.  There's time to plan ahead, you have a defined field of battle, and usually it's wide open...perfect for area affect type actions that don't cause friendly-fire casualties.

Two posts from now, you will see that the situation can be quite different when circumstances aren't so...favorable.


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

Wow, I love how they managed their little excursion...and what a guesome fate they saved the poor bastard from. I hope they'll get some info out of him. 

Looks like Prendergast's days are numbered! 


Note to self: Read up on the modules. 
Another note to self: Wait with that - it's a lot of fun reading the League's adventures first!


----------



## JollyDoc

EKAYM’S REQUEST

As the thunder of the crowd died to a dull roar, Dwilt stepped into the center of arena.  
“My fellow Waterdhavians!” he cried, and the crowd answered with enthusiasm.  “As team leader of Impotent Rage, I think I speak for all of us when we thank you for your respect and enthusiasm.”  The civilar waited patiently as the tumult swelled once more.  “But I would be remiss,” he continued, “if I were not to acknowledge a true hero among us here today…our host, Lord Prendergast Brokengulf!”  At this, the throng became deafening, stamping their feet and shouting the veteran gladiator’s name over and over.  With visible reluctance, Brokengulf rose to his feet with a forced smile on his face, and waved perfunctorily to the crowd.  
“Why, only just yesterday,” Dwilt resumed his monologue, “I learned that over a decade ago Lord Brokengulf almost single-handedly beat back a horde of ghouls, and sealed them in their lair for all eternity!  Surely we owe an unpayable debt of gratitude to such a man…one who would never think of letting the undead walk our fair streets and threaten our women and children!”  The audience cheered and cheered at Dwilt’s words.  The civilar bowed deeply before Brokengulf’s box, noting with satisfaction the look of pure, murderous hatred the gladiator leveled at him.
_______________________________________________

Later in the coenoby, the team took their meal in silence in the common area, noting that the kobolds of Crazy Eight rounded out the semi-final teams.  The team mates couldn’t help but suppress a snicker at the unlikely gladiators, as they were sure to be their competition in the next day’s bracket.  Traditionally in the finals, the previous year’s champions would fight a beast of some sort, while the other two teams faced each other.  This meant that Auric and Khellek would fight what essentially would be an exhibition match in the morning, almost assuring their place in the finals.

Just then, a beaming Ekaym walked into the coenoby, carrying a silver trophy depicting a dwarven gladiator, and a large sack of clinking coins.  
“Well done again, lads!” he cried, holding up the trophy.  He then frowned slightly at the replica of the dwarf.  “Ironic, no?  Well, it suits you boys…and lady…nonetheless.  Stirring speech, by the way Dwilt.”  The talkative merchant seated himself at their table, chattering away about the match and its high points while he parceled out the winnings.  “Say,” he said after a brief brake from his ramblings, looking around conspiratorially, “do you think we could go someplace a bit more…private?”  Vladius looked immediately skeptical, but Dwilt shrugged and rose to lead the group to one of the empty quarters.  Not their own, Giovanni thought to himself, seeing as how they had an escaped prisoner as a guest at the moment.

As soon as everyone had seated themselves around the walls of the small enclosure, Ekaym pushed the door closed, then deliberately locked it.  Turning towards his team, his face was transformed.  Oh, it still had all the same features, but the foppish frivolity was gone, replaced with a seriousness, and underlying sadness that caught the entire band momentarily off guard.  
“My friends,” he began with a deep sigh, “I am not whom you believe me to be.  I have not been entirely…forthcoming with you.”
“Big surprise there,” Vladius muttered before Grubber elbowed him silent.
My true name is Lord Urtos Phylund II.”  Dwilt and Hawk both knew of House Phylund, long known for training and procuring fierce monsters.  “My father,” Urtos continued, “was Lord Urtos I.  He was the director of the Field of Triumph until his death ten years ago, during a tragic accident while he was transporting an owlbear to the arena.  Two months prior to his death, I met with an unfortunate accident myself.  While out hunting at our family lodge in the Ardeep forest, my companions and I ran afoul of a large pack of wolves.  I was sorely injured, and it took me over two months to recover.  When I finally returned to Waterdeep, it was to the news of my father’s death, and to discover that my step-mother, Lady Aridarye, presuming me dead, had been named steward of my House until her young son, my half-brother, could come of age.  My dear step-mother was not exactly overwhelmed with relief to see me alive, as I once more took control of my House’s affairs.  Seven years ago, Lady Aridarye married a close friend of my fathers, and also of mine…Lord Prendergast Brokengulf.  Of this I will say no more, except that is no secret that three years ago, my former step-mother began having an affair with a local gladiator named Auric.  Now, none of this really concerns me, as I have always suspected Aridarye of being an opportunist and a user, moving from one relationship to the next as it suits her purposes.  However, I have recently discovered that the body of my father has gone missing from our family vault.  I have always been suspicious of the circumstances surrounding my father’s death.  He was an expert beast handler, and for him to die at the claws of one of his animals is a bitter irony.  I have long suspected Aridarye’s hand in his death, but have never been able to prove anything.  I have my own reasons for suspecting that there may be some clue as to the true cause of my father’s death here beneath the Field of Triumph.  My…complicated relationship with Aridarye and Prendergast prevents my direct investigation here, as you can imagine.  So it was that I came up with the idea to gather together my own team of gladiators, in the hope of infiltrating the arena sub-levels to search for anything related to my father’s murder, or the whereabouts of his remains.  I realize an undertaking such as this is not without risk, and so I offer you all of the winnings you have thus far accumulated, and may yet accumulate, in exchange for your services.”  Here Urtos paused, his eyes cautious.
Silence pervaded the room for several long moments, and then Dwilt stood, shooting a warning look at Vladius as the mage started to open his mouth.  
“We have our own reasons for conducting an investigation into the arena and Lord Brokengulf,” he said to Urtos, “as you have no doubt suspected.  Why else would two civilars of the Guard be competing incognito in a gladiatorial competition?  We accept your offer, and will see what our search turns up.  Hear me on this, though.  If any of the trails lead to your friend Brokengulf, we will not hesitate to bring him down, personal ally or not.  Do not try to interfere.”
“Agreed,” Urtos said after a moment, and briskly shook hands with the civilar.  “Ah yes,” he snapped his fingers, reaching into his cloak and drawing out a leather tube.  “The scroll you asked for Grubber, though none of you seem gravely injured.  Is this just for insurance?”
“Not exactly,” Grubber replied, accepting the scroll case.  “Come with us, and we will share a secret of our own with you.”

They made their way across the coenoby to the team’s personal quarters, and stepped quickly inside.  The prisoner still cowered in the corner, just as they had left him.  Dwilt had given him stern instructions to remain inside, warning the man that if he was seen by any one, his life would surely be forfeit.
“Who is this?” Urtos asked, eyeing the filthy man skeptically.
“That is what we hope to soon find out,” Grubber said, crouching beside the prisoner and unfurling the scroll.  He began reading in a sing-song chant, and slowly, a lambent glow surrounded his hands.  As his words faded, the writing on the scroll likewise vanished, leaving the parchment blank.  Grubber reached out gently towards the prisoner, laying his glowing hands on either side of the man’s head.  Instantly, the look of terror and confusion left the prisoner, and his eyes lost their glazed appearance.  
“What…what did you do?” he asked, awestricken.  
“Merely healed your fractured mind,” Grubber said kindly.  “Now, can you tell us who you are, and what you know about the worms?”
Involuntarily, the man shuddered, but he did not cower this time.  “My name is Anele.  I have been a beggar on these streets since I was a child…never harming nobody.  Then, no more than a tenday past, two watchmen snatched me up for no reason…no reason!  I thought I was being arrested for panhandling, but they’ve never bothered me before.  They locked me up down here without explaining nothing.  There was another fella in the cell across from me.  He tried to talk to me, but I showed him I was deaf.  Still, he seemed nice enough.  Then one night, I heard the strangest sound in the hallway outside my cell.  It sounded like hoof beats…like a horse or something.  When I got up to look, I saw him…a devil he was!  He was flabby, and cruel looking.  Looked sort of like a man in the face, but he had hooves instead of feet.  Hooves I tell you!  And wings…big, black, leathery ones…like a bat.  Horns was growing out of his head.  He opened the door to that other fella’s cell, and went inside.  That’s when he did it.  He pulled this horrible looking green worm out of a bottle and put it on the fella’s face.  I could tell the man was screaming the whole time, even though I couldn’t hear him.  The worm…ate its way into his face.  Pretty soon he keeled over.  Dead as a door nail, but then…he got up again!  Only he wasn’t moving right…kind of jerky and twitchy.  And the worms…oh gods the worms!  They were everywhere!  Crawling out of his eyes, and his mouth.”  Anele broke down into sobs as the horrible memory returned to him.
“What happened then,” Grubber asked gently.  “Where did they go?”
“Back down the hall,” Anele said, getting hold of himself.  They turned down a little short hall and disappeared.  I haven’t seen them come back out since.”

Urtos’ face had gone pale during Anele’s tale, and now he gaped at Dwilt.  “What is he talking about?” the Lord asked.  “Is he mad?”
“Not anymore,” Dwilt said calmly, “I told you…we have our own reasons for investigating here.  There is much more going on than you can possibly imagine.  Stay away from here, Urtos.  We will be in touch with you when we are able.  For now, if you could take Anele from here and see to his safety.  Storm will shroud him for you so that you can leave unnoticed.”
Storm stepped up to Anele and cast a brisk spell.  Anele faded from sight, and Storm instructed him to hold Urtos’ cloak and not to let go until the spell wore off.  
“May the gods be with you,” Urtos said as he left the chamber, casting one last worried glance at the team he had assembled…and quite possibly, doomed.
____________________________________________________

Evening came to the quiet coenoby, and the wardens once more departed, but not before warning the three remaining teams again not to wander from the area, especially since there was an escaped prisoner on the loose who was considered armed and dangerous.

As the midnight hour came and went, the League members crept from their quarters, and retraced their steps from the previous night.  Though the saying goes that ‘lightning never strikes twice,’ that adage apparently did not hold true for the intrepid explorers.  Try as they might to muffle it, the squealing of the long-disused upper stairway gate gave away their position a second time.  This time, the shouting of the wardens was more urgent.  They were already on heightened alert, with a prisoner having escaped right under their noses less than twenty-four hours earlier.  

“We can’t avoid them this time,” Dwilt whispered hurriedly, “take up defensive positions!  Hawk, try and stall them!”  Havok and Shay quickly faded from view, while Grubber, Grim, Storm and Vladius flattened themselves against a wall.  As the warden’s drew nearer, Hawk stepped into the hallway before them, silently stretching out his senses for the presence of evil and finding none.  
“What the hell are you doing up here?” one of the wardens shouted.  “You know you’re not allowed to be out of the coenoby!  You could be disqualified!”
Hawk had no weapon in his hands.  He raised both of them to punctuate the fact.  “I beg your pardon, gentleman, but Lord Prendergast himself gave me his leave to explore a bit…sort of a reward for a job well done.”  
The wardens regarded each other for a moment, and then turned back to glare at the civilar.  “We happen to know for a fact that what you say is patently untrue,” the leader replied.  “Now, we offer you just this one chance to return to the coenoby, or we will expel you from the tournament.”

“Time for talk is over!” shouted the diminutive mephit that flitted out from behind the paladin.  “Show time!”  With a word and a gesture, the wizard created a thick, oily layer of grease on the floor directly beneath the feet of three of the four wardens.  All three immediately stumbled and crashed to the ground.  
“I apologize in advance,” Hawk said as he rushed the remaining warden with his shield upraised, “but you are working for evil, knowingly or not, and we cannot allow you to interfere with us.”  He slammed into the warden, rocking the man back several steps, right into the grease pit, and in short order, he had joined his comrades on the floor.  Simultaneously, Havok appeared behind the four downed guards with Dwilt in tow, having dimension walked to flank them.  The wardens tried to rise and defend themselves, but they were hopelessly over-matched and out classed.  In less than a minute, they all lay unconscious.

“So what do we do with them?” Grubber asked as they stood over the subdued wardens.
“Obviously, we kill them,” Vladius said, with no hint of sarcasm in his voice, only deadly earnest.  “They work for a man who wants us dead, and who is trying to summon an undead monstrosity that may be capable of destroying this whole city!  Plus, they’ve seen us and can identify us.  Case closed.”
“I won’t be a party to that,” Grubber said, folding his arms across his chest.  “These men are simply hirelings for the arena.  They have no part in Prendergast’s schemes that we know of.  It would be murder.”
“Are you insane?” Vladius asked incredulously, “How many other people have you ‘murdered’ since we got involved in this whole affair?  What about that whole tribe of lizardfolk?  Didn’t I just personally witness you today smash in the skull of a dwarf or two in that arena?  What part did they play in all this?  Did they deserve to die?”
Grubber looked uncomfortable, his gaze falling to his feet.  “That was different,” he said quietly, “There were extenuating circumstances.”
“Oh really??” Vladius pressed, “By all means, please explain them to me.  I’d love to hear your moral justification of murder for money.”
“Enough!” Dwilt said, stepping between the feuding pair.  “We are not going to kill these men.  That’s final!” he glared at Vladius as the mephit opened his mouth again, then promptly snapped it shut.  “We’ll tie them, gag them, and lock them in the cell block for now.  We can decide their ultimate fate later.”
_____________________________________________________________

A short time later, Shay secured the lock on the same cell that had held Anele with its four new occupants.  The group then moved up the main hall to the smaller branch that Anele had indicated in his tale.  It was a short passage, only ten feet long, with a stout wooden door at its end.  Beyond the door lay a small cellar containing several barrels and hundreds of glass bottles on shelving.  The air was thick with the smell of vinegar.  There was no obvious way out.  Shay stepped cautiously into the room, peering closely at the walls and the shelves.  He moved to the back wall and began running his hands over its surface.  Finally, he carefully removed a specific bottle from the rack to his left, and the section of wall slid back, revealing a dark stairwell leading down.  “I would say we have our clue,” he said.

Grimm took the lead descending the stair, which curved to the right after reaching a small landing.  No sooner had the dwarf stepped on the landing, than an explosion of black energy engulfed him.  He staggered forward, and nearly fell down the second set of stairs, but for Hawk reaching out to grab him.  “A slaying ward,” Grubber said from further up the stairs.  “He was lucky,” he indicated Grim, “it was meant to kill.”  Shaking himself out of his daze, Grim continued down the stair, arriving at another door at their base.

Pushing it open, the mineral warrior saw a square room which contained three plain, wooden coffins.  Two lay along the south wall, while the third had been placed in the north part of the room.  Several empty sacks were piled near the third coffin.  Standing near the center of the room were three corpses with green, slithering words protruding from their eyes, ears, noses and mouths.  Kyuss Spawn!  Grim started to lift his axe, preparing to strike, but then a wave of paralyzing fear and nausea knotted his gut.  He could not explain it.  All that he knew was that he had to get away…now!  Turning back into the stairwell, he began shoving his comrades aside, barreling his way up the stairs.  Grubber saw the panic in his eyes, and knew that it was the magic of the spawn that affected him.  As the mineral warrior approached, the goliath braced himself, and shoved his hands against Grim’s shoulders, stopping him in his tracks.  

Shay, who was right behind Grim, also felt the fear seize him.  He knew instinctively that only death awaited him in that room.  Death, and undeath.  He quickly followed in Grim’s path, and when the dwarf was stopped by Grubber, the wily rogue darted between the legs of both of them, coming up behind the goliath into the wine cellar.  As he bolted towards the door, he was suddenly shocked to find himself face down on the floor as Storm stuck out her foot to trip him as he darted by.

Hawk couldn’t worry about his fleeing comrades at the moment.  The spawn were still there, unthreatened.  Rushing into the room, he charged the nearest of the horrors, and rammed his sword into its chest, unleashing a burst of holy energy as he did so.  If the creature felt pain, it didn’t show it.  It simply plucked a fat, wriggling worm from its mouth and reached out towards Hawk’s face.  Instantly, the room erupted into fire.  As the heat and light faded, Hawk saw that all that remained of the spawn were three greasy spots on the floor.  “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder to the hovering mephit in the doorway.

Grubber chanted his prayer quickly, letting his energy flow through his hands and into Grim.  For a moment, the fear gripped the dwarf even tighter, but then his mind cleared of its panicky fog, and he felt his face flush in shame.  “That’s twice those bastards have gotten to me,” he said.  “Never again…this I vow.”

Back in the wine cellar, Storm had shut the door to prevent Shay’s escape.  The rogue rolled to his feet, and backed into a shadowy corner.  His shadow walker ritual had gifted him with the ability to use shadows as dimensional doorways, and he prepared to do just that to escape these lunatics who couldn’t see their own deaths approaching.  However, just as he began to focus his energies, Grubber rushed him, cuffing him across the forehead with his mallet.  As Shay’s vision exploded into stars, Dwilt and Hawk were on him, punching him repeatedly until he lapsed into unconsciousness.  Once he was out, Grubber pulled a potion flask from his pouch, an elixir that would remove the magical fear effect, which he had purchased after their last encounter with Kyuss Spawn.  Opening Shay’s mouth, he forced it down the rogue’s throat.
________________________________________________

“What were those…thing?” Giovanni asked as Grubber tended Shay’s external bruises (his bruised ego would have to heal on its own).  
“Those were Kyuss Spawn,” Hawk said, as he looked into the coffins, making sure they held no other nasty surprises.  “The same things we met in the lower level of Cromm’s Hold.”
Giovanni shuddered.  “I know how you described them, but…”
“Yeah, kind of makes you want to bring your lunch up,” Vladius offered.  “Don’t worry about it kid.  They die just fine.”

Just then, Hawk came to a halt in his search around the chamber.  He stood in an archway leading east.  After about fifteen feet, it branched north, but twenty feet beyond that it ended at a door.  It was there that Hawk was looking.  “We’ve got trouble,” he said.
“What?” Dwilt replied, stepping beside him.  “Do you detect something?”
Hawk nodded.  “Behind that door…nine of them.  Three are more powerful than the others.”  Dwilt knew exactly what he was talking about.  The paladin was sensing evil.  Not only could he detect its presence, but he could also discern how many creatures were present, and how strongly evil they were.  The most powerful radiations tended to come from undead, priests, and outsiders, beings from other planes.  
“Form up team,” Dwilt commanded.  Without hesitation, the group organized themselves with Grim in front, followed by Dwilt, then Hawk, Grubber, Shay, Storm, Vladius and Giovanni.  They moved carefully down the hall, towards the door.

Grim glanced over his shoulder at Dwilt.  When the civilar nodded, the burly dwarf raised one hobnailed boot and kicked in the door.  The air that rushed out of the large chamber beyond was particularly noisome.  The northern wall of the room was almost completely covered by the remains of a wooden bookshelf whose contents had long ago crumbled to dust.  The southern portion of the chamber was occupied by dusty pieces of ancient, ruined machinery that may once have comprised sets of semi-automated combat dummies.  A set of double-doors stood closed in the room’s north wall.  Standing about the large room, all facing the door which Grim had just smashed, were six more spawn.  Among them, however, were three other creatures that looked like gaunt, nearly skeletal corpses, their rib cages filled with horrid, writhing viscera.  Their tongues, which protruded obscenely from their mouths, were long, cartilaginous and clawed!

“Mohrgs!” Grubber shouted as he glimpsed the horrific-looking undead.
“I don’t care what they are,” Vladius replied, “as long as they’re not fire proof.  Incoming!”  Reflexively, Grim crouched low behind his tower shield as a massive explosion ripped through the chamber.  Even so-protected, the flames from the powerful fireball still scorched even his thick hide.  Peering over the top of his shield, he saw that their opponents were far worse off than he.  Five of the spawn had been consumed by the blast, and the one remaining looked like a burned out torch.  The mohrgs, though clearly damaged, still looked more than capable of putting up a fight.  All three of the creatures rushed Grim, but since he had essentially created a bottle-neck in the doorway, they couldn’t all reach him at once.  Nevertheless, one of them managed to rake its filthy, snake-like tongue across his face.  For a split-second, felt every muscle in his body seize up, but just as quickly the sensation passed.
“Beware their tongues!” Grubber called from further down the hallway, “They can paralyze you!”
“Thanks for the warning,” Grim muttered.

From her position in the middle of the party, Storm could just make out the mohrg facing Grim.  “Duck!” she shouted to Shay, Dwilt and Hawk, who obliged without question.  From her palm came a scorching ray of pure flame, which passed harmlessly over Grim’s head and struck the walking corpse full in the chest.  As it recoiled, Dwilt snaked his chain between Grim’s legs, coiling around one ankle of the mohrg, and jerked.  With a guttural cry, the monstrosity fell to the ground at Grim’s feet.  Grim didn’t waste the opportunity, and hammered his axe into the mohrg’s animate viscera.  

Hawk was frustrated.  Though Grim’s position effectively protected the rest of the group, it prevented him from entering the melee.  He tried to peer over the heads of those in front of him to see if any new enemies had entered the room.  It was then that he noticed the last spawn.  It had shambled over to the far doors, and opened one of them.
“Havok!” Hawk shouted, “Get me in there…now!”  He then turned and shouldered his way past Grubber, Shay and Storm.  He couldn’t see the warlock, as he had rendered himself invisible once more, but he felt Giovanni’s hand seize his, and the next thing he knew he was standing right beside the Kyuss Spawn.

Vladius cursed.  Now that Hawk and Giovanni were in the room, he couldn’t hurl his more destructive spells.  Well, he could, but that might result in hurt feelings, and all sorts of whining, so instead, he drew a slender wand from his robe and with a word, sent a burst of missiles of energy down the hall.  Amazingly, the bolts deftly dodged and weaved around everyone in front of him, and struck unerringly the mohrg he had aimed at.  At that moment, the mohrg had been trying to stand, but Dwilt flicked his chain again, sending it sprawling back to the floor, at which time Grim followed up with a second chop, cracking several of its rotting ribs in the process.

The other two mohrg’s, however, had not failed to notice Hawk’s sudden appearance behind them.  Rotting sinew creaked as they turned their heads to regard the civilar, and then as one, they charged.  Hawk turned, shield raised just as the horrid tongues of the creatures struck like snakes.  Showing surprising intelligence, the mohrgs moved to flank the paladin, stepping between him and the spawn.  As Hawk watched, unable to intervene, the thing shambled into a darkened hallway beyond the door.
______________________________________________________

Bozal Zahol stood before the altar, deep in meditation over the large scroll unfurled atop it, its writing bathed in a sickly green light.  It was almost time.  Soon the Apostle would awaken, and the ritual would be complete.  Even now, he could feel the ulgurstasta stirring, its mind reaching out to him, giving him just the barest hint of the unfathomable dark secrets it harbored.

Suddenly, he heard a muffled explosion from the training hall.  With a curse, he withdrew his attention from the scroll and the Apostle.  He had been expecting this.  Those so-called adventurers had finally arrived.  He had warned Brokengulf that they would be trouble, but the old fool had been certain that Ilserv and his doppelgangers could handle them.  Bozal had not been so confident.  Theldrick was no weakling, and yet this band of bumpkins from a backwater town had managed to defeat him as well as the other Triad leaders, not to mention the Ebon Aspect.  No, these were not typical treasure hunters, and they had been making Brokengulf look like a fool by defeating team after team in the Games.  So now they were on his doorstep.  Well, he had not come this far, brought the faithful of Kyuss so close to the Age of Worms, just to be thwarted on the eve of his apotheosis.  Even before his spawn minion burst in to needlessly warn him of intruders, he began uttering his prayers.
__________________________________________________

Hawk pivoted and whirled like a dervish, trying to outmaneuver the mohrgs.  He slashed at the leg of one, cutting through several layers of decaying muscle.  Suddenly, he saw Havok appear out of thin air as his invisibility spell ended with the blast that erupted out of his hand and down the hall where the spawn had vanished.  In a brilliant flash of light, Giovanni saw the spawn illuminated for the briefest of instants, standing in an open doorway, before his eldritch blast obliterated it entirely.

The mohrg before Grim struggled to its feet one last time before a second missile volley from Vladius caused its skeletal head to explode.  Dwilt and Grim wasted no time rushing past the still falling corpse and closing to aid Hawk.  Both warriors struck simultaneously, Grim’s axe and Dwilt’s chain each knocking the legs out from under a mohrg, and sending them both to the ground.  Hawk stabbed his sword through the sternum of the nearest one, and it began to crumble to dust as it died a second time.  He then bashed the last mohrg with his shield as it began to rise, and followed up with a thrust from his blade through its chin and straight up into its rotten brain.  Before it could recover, Dwilt slashed three quick strokes, each one shattering an exposed vertebra, and it followed its brethren into eternal rest.

“Come on!” Grim shouted as he started down the hall in the direction the spawn had gone.  “It’s bringing others!”  As he skidded to a halt at the open door at the end of the hall, his eyes went wide at what he beheld on the other side.  Two braziers in the northeast and southeast corners lit the rectangular room.  A simple altar of stone sat in the middle of the east wall, facing a large set of stone double doors to the west.  On the altar was a scroll, which glowed with an unnatural green light.  A writhing green beam of light emanated from the scroll to strike the doors, bathing them in the same green glow.  Standing in front of the altar was what at first appeared to be a middle-aged man with a flaccid and misshapen figure.  However, his goat-like hooves, large leathery wings, and vestigial horns labeled him as something else entirely.  He wore chain mail armor and carried a wooden shield.  At his side was slung a gleaming, wooden club.  

Grim never hesitated.  Roaring a challenge, he rushed into the chamber, but as soon as he did, he noticed the total absence of sound.  He couldn’t even hear his own voice as he shouted.  Nevertheless, he let his momentum carry him forward, raising his axe to cleave into the demonic figure.  However, when he was still a dozen feet away, he ran up against what seemed to be a solid barrier, though one he could not see.  

Grubber approached the door next and saw Grim’s dilemma.  Something about the situation struck him as familiar.  And then he had it.  The fiendish looking man was a priest, and he had raised a powerful abjuration about himself…an anti-life shell!  It would hedge out any mortal creature, preventing it from touching his person…unless Grubber could do something about it.  The goliath noted that he could not hear Grim’s shouting, though the dwarf was clearly doing so.  If he stepped into the chamber, he would not be able to form the words for his prayer, so he began his incantation outside the room, conjuring a dispelling field around the evil priest, hoping to bring down the anti-life shell, and whatever other defensive spells he may have in effect.

Before Grim could register the fact that the barrier had vanished, Hawk rushed past him, but as the paladin drew near Bozal, the priest uttered words unheard by no one but himself, bathing his hand in black light.  He reached out gently, right for the paladin’s heart.  With a silent cry of dismay, Hawk leaped back, batting the fiend’s hand aside with his shield, and then burying his sword to the hilt in the priest’s chest, unleashing a surge of holy energy as he did so.  As Bozal staggered back, blood spurting from his wound, Dwilt sprang to Hawk’s side, snapping his chain around the fiend’s leg, tripping him and mentally sending a stunning blast down the length of the weapon.  As Bozal jittered and jerked on the floor, Grim stood over him, and then brought his axe down upon his neck.


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## Neverwinter Knight

Damn, this story is intense! It was lucky for Hawk that he was delayed by the morghs. Facing Bozal alone could have become a problem... 

Congratulations on several dilemmas well solved - or are the still-alive-guards going to become a problem? Was the constant fighting (day & night) a problem, i.e. did this prevent you from resting?


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## gfunk

A mighty fine read once again JD.  You really have been burning the midnight oil churning out these high-quality updates!

NWK, to anser your questions -- we only rested once/day so we generally fought in the Arena in the morning and explored the catacombs at night.

The still-alive-guards will and do become a problem -- but one that we solved novelly.


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## Look_a_Unicorn

Enjoying this story hour greatly- as I have each of your previous ones!


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## JollyDoc

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> Enjoying this story hour greatly- as I have each of your previous ones!




Thanks! I always appreciate feedback, positive or negative.  Well, the group finished Champion's Belt tonight, and it ended with a bang!  Hopefully, I'll the next post and the final one for CB this week, which will bring me completely up to date with the current game.


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## Richard Rawen

*just a thank you...*

Another great read JD, thanks!

Blessings,
Richard
M < > <


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## themind

JD, I just gotta say that this is a great story hour.  As was the Shackled City.  Can't wait to see what happens.

By the way, looks like you got quite a lashing over at the paizo boards by some of the members.  Some people are very passionate about how they play the game it seems.

Anyways, keep up the good work.


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## A'vandira Silvermane

themind said:
			
		

> JD, I just gotta say that this is a great story hour.  As was the Shackled City.  Can't wait to see what happens.
> 
> By the way, looks like you got quite a lashing over at the paizo boards by some of the members.  Some people are very passionate about how they play the game it seems.
> 
> Anyways, keep up the good work.




I second that Mr. Mind.
I am not a powergamer myself, but I very much like the way these guys manage to create a team of such complementary characters with such an optimum of skills and powers.

I am playing the same AoW with DM Brainiac and still I read this SH, because it's just such a d*mned good read. It's up to me to separate player knowledge from character knowledge, and I will make sure I will do just that. So, what I basically want to say is for JD and the others to keep on going in the way they do best, entertaining all of us readers with excellent stories for many more hours to read.


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## LordVyreth

themind said:
			
		

> JD, I just gotta say that this is a great story hour.  As was the Shackled City.  Can't wait to see what happens.
> 
> By the way, looks like you got quite a lashing over at the paizo boards by some of the members.  Some people are very passionate about how they play the game it seems.
> 
> Anyways, keep up the good work.




Heh, I don't suppose you can link that?  It might make an amusing read, but I couldn't find anything by skimming the Paizo boards.  But don't worry about it if it's a board infraction or anything.


----------



## gfunk

Ask and ye shall receive!

http://paizo.com/paizo/messageboards/dungeon/ageOfWorms/cheesyMagicItemsAndAoW


----------



## Hammerhead

I wouldn't exactly call that a lashing...just a difference of opinion about "fun." 

Besides, didn't Erik Mona complement you guys on the Shackled City SH? 

JD, are you making a rival team of bad guys also based on superheroes for the League?


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

It's funny how so many people just don't read the post and try to answer the question but just go on and on with their own rants. On second thought, it's not funny - it's enoying! 

Also, "taking gaming seriously" is a paradox in itself...and only bad DMs use their "I AM DM" card.


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## themind

Mr. Mind...I like that.      Never been called that before.  Makes me feel, important somehow.

Anyways, I would like to say that reading these SH makes me want to work to become a better DM.  I want to give my players latitude with their characters but at the same time I tend to see a powerful build or ability and want to nerf it as so to make the game less of a power fest.
I just gotta learn to bite the bullet and let them try what they want.

Well, I think we digressed enough, on with the Story Hour... Please?


----------



## JollyDoc

Thanks guys for all the support.  The game would be no fun at all if everyone played it the same way.  Our style is not for everyone.  We're not exactly the "I walk into the tavern and start talking to the barmaid" kind of gamers.  We don't particularly enjoy "free association" gaming.  I've done that before and it bored me to tears.  We like plot, we like story, but we also like the action.  It's fun for my players to play around with different builds.  Hell, Joachim, Gfunk and Ika do it just for kicks.  Not a week goes by that I don't hear from Ika that "I've got my new character rolled up just in case..."  And it's never the same character twice.  In 3.0 I had to totally nerf splat books because they were so outrageously broken.  In 3.5, I've so far allowed everything WOTC, but we are finding several things that we've had to house rule, but you can't determine what that is until you've actually played with it awhile.  

As for a party of supervillians to put against the League...I probably won't do it for several reasons.  First, I have to much first-hand knowledge of the PC's, and I'm afraid I would unfairly give the bad guys items and abilities to specifically counter them.  Second, I'm a firm believer in the old adage, "if you stat it, they will kill it."  Anyone remember the old god-hunts using the first ed. Deities and Demigods?  How many of you out there ever had a PC who wielded Thor's hammer (raises hand).  I like the nebulous uber-bad guy...ie Entropy.  Entropy will forever be just a little more powerful than the most powerful PC.  She is eternal, and my campaign world would be a little more empty without her.

Next post soon...promise.


----------



## Joachim

I never wielded Thor's hammer...but I did wield Ares' spear, and an axe of endless wishes.  Of course, that was like in eighth grade before I learned that D&D actually used dice.

Personally, I wouldn't mind an Anti-League.  I could build it for you, if you wanted, Mr. Jolly...just say the word and it shall be done.


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## CrusadeDave

*Heh...*



			
				Joachim said:
			
		

> Personally, I wouldn't mind an Anti-League.  I could build it for you, if you wanted, Mr. Jolly...just say the word and it shall be done.




Considering I'm sitting on all of the Marvel Super Heroes books ever printed....

Let me know who you want and what ECL encounter, and I could build it for you.

ECL 24 encounter of Dr. Strange, Silver Surfer, Hulk, and The Valkyrie? No Problem. ECL 12 Pestilence, War, Famine, and Archangel? Easy.  ECL 6 Power Pack. Can do that too. ECL 16 with The Marauders, including Polaris/Malice. No Problem. 

Joachim, you can't build the villains that you are going to encounter. Although, my campaign has plenty of villains needed to be built.


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

Joachim said:
			
		

> I never wielded Thor's hammer...but I did wield Ares' spear, and an axe of endless wishes.  Of course, that was like in eighth grade before I learned that D&D actually used dice.



Nope, never done that before. My second character ever (a Minotaur fighter) did have a Sword + 11, though. Boy, that DM stepped down after the campaign...  

Sins of the young...


----------



## JollyDoc

CrusadeDave said:
			
		

> Considering I'm sitting on all of the Marvel Super Heroes books ever printed....
> 
> Let me know who you want and what ECL encounter, and I could build it for you.
> 
> ECL 24 encounter of Dr. Strange, Silver Surfer, Hulk, and The Valkyrie? No Problem. ECL 12 Pestilence, War, Famine, and Archangel? Easy.  ECL 6 Power Pack. Can do that too. ECL 16 with The Marauders, including Polaris/Malice. No Problem.
> 
> Joachim, you can't build the villains that you are going to encounter. Although, my campaign has plenty of villains needed to be built.




Hmmm....now that I think of it...a Brotherhood ECL 18, with eight members might just be something I could use....


----------



## Joachim

Well...we have already got Sabretooth...the list could start with:

Sabretooth - Feral Jotunbrud Human Barbarian/Frenzied Beserker
Mystique - Doppleganger Rogue/Assassin
Magneto - Human Red Wizard of Thay/Master of the Unseen Hand/Argent Savant (Force/Telekinesis Specialist)
Juggernaut - Giant Fighter (Cloud Giant, maybe)
Scarlet Witch - Human Cleric of Beshaba (God of Bad luck...to go along with the probability shift stuff)

And I'm spent for the moment...that would be a good start for your balanced party.


----------



## JollyDoc

ROUND THREE (OR HOW TO KILL A FROGHEMOTH IN THIRTY SECONDS OR LESS)

‘That must be it,’ Giovanni thought, for he could not speak aloud in the magically silenced room.  ‘The Apostolic Scrolls.’  Carefully avoiding the writhing green beam, he walked around the back side of the altar, gazing at the scroll, but studiously avoiding reading any of the words.  Who knew what even glancing at those powerfully evil verses might unleash?  He could not, however, keep himself from summoning up his innate ability to detect magic.  Instantly, a stabbing pain went through his head as the overwhelming aura of the scrolls bombarded him.  Struggling to clear his mind, he tried to unravel the multiple auras that he sensed and focus on one at a time.  

The first, and least powerful, dweomer that he noted was an unhallowing effect that permeated the chamber.  It must be the source of the silence in the room.  Probably placed by the priest they had just slain.  Next, the green energy field that surrounded the scroll was some sort of temporal stasis.  While it lasted, the scroll could not be touched or tampered with in any way.  Most likely a defense mechanism of the item itself to allow the ritual to be completed without interference.  Finally, the scroll itself radiated a supremely powerful aura of necromancy and evil.  

Stepping out of the room, he motioned his team mates to him and told them of his observations.  
“It’s certainly beyond my ability to deal with,” Vladius said.  “And I doubt a simple dispelling field will affect it.” He looked meaningfully at Grubber.
“What if we destroy the altar itself?” Giovanni asked.  “Would the scroll fall and disrupt the effect?”
Vladius shrugged and Grubber shook his head doubtfully.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Giovanni said, and then he stepped to the doorway, pointed one finger towards the altar and proceeded to send blast after blast of eldritch energy into it.  Piece by piece he blew the stone block apart, until nothing was left but rubble.  Floating above the rubble, the scroll was untouched.

“We’d best move on,” Dwilt said.  “Perhaps we’ll find something that will give us a clue to deactivate this thing.”  Nodding their agreement, the group formed up once more.  The most obvious place to start seemed to be the doors through which the green beam passed.  They had witnessed the fiendish priest walk through the beam without ill effect, but that didn’t mean just anyone could.  Grim motioned the others behind him, and taking a deep breath, he stepped to the doors, reached through the beam and grasped the handles.  Nothing happened.  Letting his breath out, he pulled open the doors.  Beyond was a twenty-five foot long, ten foot wide corridor.  A large portal of stone, covered with the obscene depiction of an orgy of dead, worm-ridden corpses blocked the passage.  In the middle of the macabre mass, a carving of the horrible skull of Kyuss uttered a silent scream of triumph.

The first thing the group noticed was that the silencing effect of the altar chamber did not extend to this hall.  However, the green beam continued down the passage to strike the second set of doors, bathing them in emerald light.  Cautiously, they approached the portals.  Shay stepped in front of the others and carefully studied the entire surface of the doors, being equally careful not to touch them.
“If they’re trapped,” he said after a moment, “I can’t see the mechanism.”  
“The same magic field persists here as in the other room,” Giovanni observed.
“Well, it didn’t harm us the first time,” Dwilt shrugged.  He reached for the doors, only this time, his hand encountered a spongy, invisible barrier inches away from the handles.  Instantly, a blast of black energy surged up his arm and through his entire body.  He staggered back, clutching his cold, numb hand.  He glared coldly at Shay.  
“Hey,” the rogue said, holding up his hands, “I said I couldn’t see it.  That didn’t mean it wasn’t there.”
“Well, we obviously aren’t going any further this way,” Dwilt said, still cradling his injured arm.  “Let’s try the other door.”

They returned to the altar chamber, and crossed to the single door on the far side.  On the other side was a short passage ending at a second door, and beyond this they found what appeared to be a bed chamber.  A central pillar of green marble carved in the likeness of a segmented worm supported the ceiling.  The room was dimly lit by a single incense burner that shed a sweet, fruity aroma.  The chamber was lined with woolen tapestries depicting coiling green worms, and contained a bed, an armchair, and a cupboard.  Near the bed were a small nightstand and an ornate, elongated trunk.  

Before any one entered the room, Giovanni stepped to the fore, and opened his senses again for the presence of magic.  Immediately, his attention was drawn to the trunk.   Magic radiated from it and from within it.  
“Shay,” he called over his shoulder.  “Got another job for you.”
“Make sure you get it right this time,” Vladius jeered, after which he found himself on the receiving end of a particularly obscene gesture which could get a person dismembered in Calimport.

Shay crouched before the trunk.  It appeared to be made of darkwood and bound with steel.  A steel plaque representing a screaming skull infested by worms was nailed to the lid.  The side panels were painted in tones of black and green with a cycle of apocalyptic images running around it like a frieze.  The images were divided into two horizontal strips, underground and aboveground, by a cutaway of the earth’s crust.  Underground, the horrible figure of a man made of worms lay imprisoned in a huge, stone monolith.  The figure had been represented in perspective on each of the trunk’s four sides.  Huge, green worms writhed in the surrounding caverns’ crust to invade the aboveground part of the paintings, where a sickly, green light illuminated a blasted landscape.  There, the writhing worms towered over a population of monstrous undead and naked, terrified victims.

“Charming,” Shay muttered.  He examined the entire trunk with a skilled eye, and there, just around the locking mechanism, he saw it…the faintest of glimmers, that to a trained professional such as himself, indicated the presence of a magical trap.  
“Definitely,” he said to the others.
“Well, we’ve got the key ring that we took off goat-boy back there,” Grim said, twirling the ring around on one finger.  “You’d think he’d have a way to bypass his own trap.”
“Be my guest,” Shay said, backing away to a safe distance.  Grim scowled and strode purposefully up to the trunk, where he knelt and inserted what he hoped was the correct key.  Turning it, he heard a satisfying click.  “Hah!” he shouted, and lifted the lid.  At that moment, he felt a searing pain in his hand where it touched the lid, and then he cried out as he jerked his hand back.  Something beneath his skin was…writhing.  Suddenly, a sickly, green worm burst from the back of his hand and dropped wetly to the floor where it hissed and bubbled into a noisome pool of goo.  
“At least you got it open,” Shay shrugged, not quite meeting the withering stare of the mineral warrior.

The trunk contained several wondrous magical items, as well as gold and gems, but nothing pertaining to the scroll.  A thorough search of the room likewise turned up nothing helpful.  A single door led west from the room.
________________________________________________

Thrakerzog brooded within the large urn that served him as a resting place.  He had heard the tell-tale sounds of combat several minutes ago, coming from the direction of the shrine.  Bozal Zahol was probably under attack, and in need of his assistance, but he would be damned if he was going to trouble himself to assist the half-breed (technically, being a demon, Thrakerzog was damned anyway, but that was beside the point).  The priest had summoned him in order to strike a bargain, but in hindsight, the demon felt that he had gotten the short end of the deal.  Bozal had asked him to ‘domesticate’ the oozes that dwelled in the sewers, and to guard the shrine as a whole.  Well, strictly speaking, Bozal’s exact words had been, “stand guard in this room,” and it was in this room that Thrakerzog intended to remain.  As he chuckled silently to himself though, imagining Bozal’s current predicament, he heard the door on the other side of the curtain open, and saw a distinctly dwarf-like shape peering around the corner.
___________________________________________________

Peering into the room, Grim beheld a bare chamber lit by a brazier in the northwest corner.  A green and black checkered curtain hung from a steel bar fixed near the ceiling, concealing the southern part of the room.  Cautiously, Grim pulled back one edge of the curtain…and abruptly wished he had not.  A six-foot tall black earthenware urn stood near the middle of the south wall.  The south wall itself was completely filled with a mosaic of tiny green tiles depicting the horrible skull of Kyuss.  Suddenly, from out of the urn emerged  a shivering, shapeless blob of phosphorescent green corruption surrounded by a cracked, leathery coating which constantly oozed, secreted, hardened, and split open again.  Dark, swollen eye globules dotted the surface of the thing.  As Grim recoiled in disgust, a blast of frigidly cold air erupted from the mass, blistering both his stony hide, and Hawk, who stood directly behind him in the corridor outside the room.  

Reacting with the experience of years of military training, Dwilt and Hawk surged into the room without even knowing what it was they faced.  No sooner had they crossed the threshold, than another wave of cold emanated from the thing in the urn, only this time it began to solidify into a wall of ice which would trap them on one side, and the rest of the team on the other.  However, as the ice wall began rising towards the ceiling, Grim shoved the head of his axe directly across its sagital plane, causing the entire structure to collapse into a harmless pile of snow.  

At that moment both Grubber and Giovanni entered the room, Grubber by charging directly in, and Giovanni by invisibly dimension-walking.  Simultaneously, their eyes fell upon the visage of Kyuss on the wall behind the urn, and something within their minds snapped.  An overwhelming sensation of hopelessness, panic, and impending doom swept over them.  For a moment, Grubber stood wide-eyed and rooted to the spot.  Not so Havok, who stepped between dimensions again, and was gone.

Thrakerzog was irritated that his attempt to split the intruders up didn’t work, but it didn’t really matter.  Now the alkilith had four of them in his sights, and he unleashed a second arctic blast directly at them.  

Grim was in trouble.  He had now taken two direct hits from the creature’s magic, and he knew he would not live through a third.  He needed to regroup, perhaps have Grubber use his healing powers, but as he turned towards the priest, he saw the goliath fleeing at full speed back the way they had just come.

“Get out of there!” Vladius shouted from his position still within the bedchamber of the priest.  He had witnessed his team getting mowed down by some spell-slinging being, and now Grubber was in full retreat.  As Grim heeded his warning, Pyro slapped one hand on the mineral warrior's shoulder, uttering an arcane word as he did so.  Instantly, a troll stood where Grim had just been.  The transformation process immediately healed some of the dwarf’s injuries, and, the wizard hoped, fortified him enough to go back into battle.  

Dwilt and Hawk also took Pyro’s advice and retreated towards the bedchamber, knowing that the wizard was about to launch one of his signature fireballs.  Before he had a chance, however, the oozing mass appeared in the hallway behind the paladins, moving amazingly fast for something so ungainly.  A third conical blast of cold roared down the corridor, enveloping Grim, Hawk, Vladius and Storm.  Dwilt dove around a corner at the last second, avoiding the brunt of the blast.  As the cloud of ice cleared, Storm collapsed to the floor.  Whether she was alive or dead, Dwilt couldn’t tell.

Shay had also avoided the frigid blast, and now he stepped to the open doorway, and launched a volley of arrows at the advancing blob.  One by one, the arrows bounced harmlessly off the creature’s hide.  “Oh crap,” the rogue whispered, and then leaped for cover as a tiny bead of flame went sailing over his head.  The fireball exploded behind the demon, filling the corridor, but as the flames subsided, the creature looked only mildly scorched.

Hawk couldn’t tell whether Storm was alive either, but he had no intention of leaving her directly in the path of the monster.  He ran to her side, and laid one hand on her forehead, channeling the healing energy granted him by Torm.  He heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the sorceress draw a great gasping breath and open her eyes, but his elation turned to pain as a bolt of black energy struck him, chilling him all the way to his soul.  “Run!” he shouted at the drow as he whirled to meet his attacker.

Storm didn’t need to be told twice.  Hawk had snatched her from the jaws of death, but she was far from whole.  One more blast like that would kill her.  She bolted from the chamber, back towards the shrine, with Shay right on her heels.  
“This is way out of my league,” the rogue said apologetically, but Storm understood completely.  She was afraid it might be out of all of their leagues.

“Still alive, eh?” Vladius shouted defiantly at the still advancing demon.  “Maybe I just didn’t try hard enough the first time!”  Chanting again, he called a second flaming ball to his hand, and hurled it at the alkilith.  In answer, the demon filled the bedchamber with a nauseating, greasy black miasma.  As the cloud clung to their them, Grim and Dwilt felt their skin burn, but Hawk was seared to his core.  Instinctively, he knew the effect to be one of pure unholy energy, which his celestial heritage made him uniquely susceptible to.  In spite of himself, he screamed in agony.  Dimly, he heard Dwilt and Grim shouting, and when he finally regained control of himself, he saw why.  Vladius lay unmoving on the floor.  With a sinking feeling, the civilar saw that the mage had assumed his normal form, his mephit shape gone.  Such a thing would not have happened if he were merely unconscious.  Pyro was dead.

With a cry of defiance, Hawk rose to his feet and charged the demon.  “By Torm’s holy might, I smite thee!” he shouted.  “Back to the pit, spawn of evil!”  He drove his blade deep into the undulating mass, calling upon his god’s anger to channel holy power into the fiend.  Thrakerzog wailed an inhuman cry as pain wracked his body.  So blinding was the agony, that he could not concentrate to focus his magic.  Instead he struck out blindly with four pseudopods, hammering at the paladin with rage.  Hawk felt the blows connect solidly, but here his ancestry served him well.  His thick skin barely registered the concussive impacts, and the acid which the beast secreted was like water to his celestial hide.  

“It’s a demon,” Dwilt wheezed to Grim as they watched Hawk make his stand.  “Only holy power can truly affect it.  Hold out your blade!”  Grim obliged, though he had no idea what the civilar had in mind.  Dwilt drew a vial of oil from his belt, and poured the liquid directly on Grim’s axe.  There was a brief flash, and then the axe began to glow with a pure white light.  “Now,” Dwilt told the troll/dwarf, “it’s payback time.”

Thrakerzog knew he could not fight this aasimar hand-to-hand, and he recognized the holy nature of the blade the troll approaching him now wielded.  He had to buy time.  Once more he summoned the unholy blight, drowning the three warriors in its darkness.  He felt a surge of satisfaction as he saw the chain-wielding human double over and begin heaving up his last meal.

Hawk knew he was done for.  The second unholy surge burned even more than the first.  He was being roasted alive from the inside out.  If he didn’t use his healing power to tend himself, he would not live to continue the fight.  He staggered back as Grim approached.  “Go my friend,” the troll/dwarf rumbled.  “I’ll hold it here.”  The mineral warrior didn’t wait to see if the civilar obeyed or not.  He simply turned and stalked towards the alkilith, death walking.  The blob began to slither away from him, but not quickly enough.  With an inarticulate cry, Grim raised his axe, and buried it to the haft in the sickening green goo.  

Thrakerzog screamed again.  Curse Bozal Zahol for abandoning him!  If the priest still lived, the demon fully intended on altering their agreement.  For now, he called upon his innate magic once more and teleported himself away from the troll, reappearing unseen in the concealed corridor beyond his room which led to the lair of Bozal’s human ally.  There, he allowed himself a moment’s respite, and then smiled evilly.  Closing his eye globules in concentration, he willed his body to change shape.  Slowly, his viscous form turned to gas.

Hawk saw the demon vanish, but his knowledge of magic was limited.  It may have fled, but it may just as easily be lurking invisibly in the corridor, preparing to attack again.  Quickly, he lifted Vladius’ cooling body, and carried him from the room.  Behind him, Dwilt struggled to regain control of his bodily functions while Grim scanned the hallway cautiously, looking for any sign of their enemy.  

What Grim saw was a thick, noxious, yellow-green cloud begin seeping into the room containing the urn from under the north wall.  Slowly, the cloud expanded and began moving towards him.  He began backing up, but soon the vapor had filled the corridor and half of the bedchamber.  He began gasping and choking as it filled his lungs, and Dwilt was no better off than he.  He felt his strength begin to ebb and he knew that if he stayed in the cloud much longer, he would soon be incapable of moving at all.  Rushing to Dwilt’s side, he draped the civilar’s arm around his shoulder and the pair limped from the chamber, rejoining their remaining team mates in the silent shrine.  Storm and Shay were already on the other side, and Hawk motioned Grim and Dwilt to come too.  Behind them, the cloud began flowing out of Bozal’s chambers and towards the shrine.  

The team reached the training room, and still the cloud pursued them.  “We can’t stay!” Hawk shouted.  “We have to make for the upper levels!”  Together, they ran from the room, back through the coffin storage chamber, and up the stairs to the wine cellar, closing the secret doors behind them.
________________________________________________

Grubber and Giovanni did not stop running until they had returned to the coenoby and their quarters.  Even then, they spent several moments cowering in a corner.  When the terror finally loosened its grip from their hearts, they said nothing to one another, merely looking shame-facedly at their feet.  Though obviously ensorcelled, and forced to flee against their wills, the fact remained that they had abandoned their friends.  
“Let’s go,” Giovanni said finally, and Grubber simply nodded.  

They began making their way back to the upper ring as quickly as possible, but by the time they arrived at the cell block, they saw their team mates approaching.  Grubber immediately noticed that several of them looked badly injured, and Vladius... ‘Oh no!’ the goliath thought as he rushed to take the wizard from Hawk’s arms.  He realized immediately that Pyro was dead.  He bowed his head as he listened to Dwilt tell the tale of what had transpired.  Storm sniffled quietly in the background.  At last Grubber raised his head when Dwilt had finished.  “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this,” he began, “especially in light of the constant, nasty jibes I’ve had to tolerate from the arrogant, little bastard, but Grumbar help me, I think I can bring him back.”  The others stared at him blankly.
“Are you serious?” Dwilt asked finally.  “How?  You said it was beyond you when Shay died.”
“I know,” the priest nodded, “and at the time it was, but all that we have seen and done has drawn me closer in my faith to Grumbar.  He has granted me the power.  Give me until tomorrow when I can perform my morning devotional, and you will see.  For now, however, it seems we have a more pressing concern.”

The guards.  That was what Grubber meant.  There was still the matter of the four wardens they had locked in one of the cells.  What was to be done with them?  If simply left there, they would be discovered the next day and would readily identify their assailants, insuring at the very least the disqualification of Impotent Rage, if not their outright arrest.

Ultimately, Dwilt came up with a plan.  When the wardens awoke in their cell, they were still bound and gagged.  Standing over them were the leader of Impotent Rage, the one called Dwilt, and another of the warriors, Hawk.  They seemed to be involved in some sort of disagreement.
“And I say they have to die,” Dwilt shouted, gesturing towards the wide-eyed wardens.  “They’ve seen our faces, for one thing, and we know they are accomplices of Brokengulf.  They have aided him in filling the catacombs beneath the arena with undead, not to mention that demon we fought.  If they were on trial by the magisters, they would be found guilty and executed.”
Hawk shook his head vehemently.  “I think you’re wrong.  These men are unwitting pawns.  How could any decent person stand by and watch the evil that Brokengulf has summoned unleashed upon their own city and people?  They should be released.”
“Released?” Dwilt said in disbelief.  “Why?  So they can run to Brokengulf first chance they get and warn him that we are on to him?  So that he can push his plan forward to destroy Waterdeep?”
“They would be fools to go to him,” Hawk argued.  “If he knew that they had any idea what he was up to, he would kill them just to silence them and leave no loose ends.”  Dwilt seemed to consider this as he glared at the bound men, who by now were sweating profusely.  One, it seemed, had even soiled himself.
“Well?” Dwilt snarled, ripping the gag from one man’s mouth.  “What’s it to be?  Do we strangle you right here and now, and dump your bodies in the cistern below, or do we cut you loose on your word that you will leave Waterdeep and tell no one what you have seen or heard?”
The man’s mouth worked in silence for a moment, before he finally managed to stammer, “We…we…I mean to say…yes!  Anything you say!  We swear it!  No one will hear a word from our lips!”  Dwilt appeared to debate a moment longer, then he spat and turned away, motioning to Shay.  
“Cut them loose.”  The rogue kneeled behind each of the men, cutting their bonds, but whispering to them as he did so, “I have friends among the Shadow Thieves.  Believe me on your life that if you break your vow, you will not live to see the sun rise.”  The men staggered quickly to their feet and rushed en masse for the door, then bolted down the hall.  
“Do you think they’ll talk?” Hawk asked.
“Maybe,” Dwilt said, “but not tonight, and probably not tomorrow.  By the time they work up the nerve to cross us, this business will be concluded, one way or another.”
______________________________________________

Morning found Grubber deep in prayer beside Vladius’ cold body.  The others stood back, their attention riveted on the priest.  Finally, the goliath finished his chant, and then crushed a large gem with his maul, sprinkling the dust over the wizard’s corpse.  Suddenly, Vladius’ chest heaved, and his eyes flew open.  He scrabbled to grab the front of Grubber’s tunic.  “You lying son-of-a-harpy!” he screamed.  “You said you were guiding me to Celestia, where forty vestal virgins awaited my personal attention!”
Grubber shrugged, “I figured you wouldn’t come back if I just told you we needed you for the next match.  Welcome home!”
_________________________________________

When the team emerged from their quarters, they saw Auric and Khellek striding angrily away from the posting board.  The reigning champions scowled darkly at the group as he passed.

When they read the board themselves, they understood the reason for Auric’s ire.  It seemed that his team was to face the Crazy Eight in the semi-final round, and Impotent Rage would be facing a creature known as Madtooth.  Traditionally, the previous year’s champions would not fight another team in the third round, almost insuring their place in the finals.  This was most unusual.

“What do you make of the night shift just up and vanishing?” a voice said from behind them.  A pair of Wardens stood a short distance away.  “Dunno,” one of them replied, “maybe they were afraid of what would happen to them for letting that prisoner get away.  Maybe they figured they should skip town while they could.”
“Maybe,” the other shrugged.  “Anyway, I wish it was them and not us having to deal with old Madtooth today.  It’s been a royal pain in the arse trying to keep his cage so cold.  I’ll be glad when this is over, and they send the brute back to the Spine.  Frost salamanders!  Hah!  You can keep’em.”  The men then seemed to take notice of the party’s attention on them, and they lowered their voices and moved away.  

“Interesting conversation,” Giovanni said to no one in particular.
“Awfully convenient for us to ‘overhear’ that,” Vladius sneered.
“Very,” Dwilt agreed.  “I think Brokengulf’s up to his old tricks again.”
“Yeah,” Vladius said, “for all we know Madtooth’s a red dragon.”
__________________________________________________

Later that morning, Auric and Khellek returned victorious from their match, but they didn’t seem very pleased with their victory.  Their glares spoke volumes about their feelings concerning Impotent Rage’s placement in the semis.

“Impotent Rage!” the warden called, and the team followed him upstairs to the lift.  As the platform rose, Vladius assumed his standard mephit form while Dwilt quaffed a potion, enlarging himself to twice his normal size, and Shay and Havok both rendered themselves invisible.  Upon reaching the arena, the air seemed electric with expectation.  “Ladies and Gentlemen!” Talabir called out.  “Once again it is my privilege to introduce the terrors of Daggerford…Impotent Rage!”  The crowd roared their approval, stamping their feet and applauding.  The floor of the arena, however, was otherwise empty.  There was no sign of Madtooth.

“I beg your apologies, my lords and ladies,” Talabir shouted from the podium.  “It would appear that our beast-wranglers are having a bit of trouble with Madtooth, but rest assured, he is on his way.”

Minutes ticked by and the crowd became increasingly restless.  Vladius cursed as several of his preparatory defensive spells expired.  Finally, just as it seemed the audience might be on the verge of riot, the eastern gates to the arena opened, and a team of a dozen soldiers dragging a massive iron cube on an oversized chariot entered.  The sides of the cage bore the word ‘Madtooth’ in bright, red letters clenched in the massive jaws of some huge monster.  Brackish water sloshed and leaked from under the cage.  
“I told you,” muttered Pyro.
The wagon’s progress was slow as the guards dragged the massive cage to the center of the arena.  The spectacle seemed to drive the crowd wild, and in moments they began chanting, “MADTOOTH!  MADTOOTH!  MADTOOTH!”  The guards stopped some fifty feet away from Impotent Rage, each one taking hold of different ropes attached to strategic pins and clasps in the cage’s sides.  Each guard then retreated to a distance of perhaps one-hundred feet, each holding a rope in his hands.  
The crowd became momentarily silent again as Talabir spoke, “And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for!  Watch in fear as these brave gladiators pit their skills against the eternal hunger of the worst the jungles of Chult have to offer!  I give you…MADTOOTH THE HUNGRY!”  With this final cry, the guards each tugged on their ropes, and the walls of the cage unfolded and fell away.

The monster was huge, and bizarre.  Vaguely frog-like in shape, it had four writhing tentacles in place of front legs.  Its head was mostly mouth, and its mouth mostly teeth.  A retractable stalk protruded from the front of its head, at the end of which stared three bulbous eyes.  The massive thing was dark green save for its belly, which was pale.  A powerful tongue tipped with barbs lolled wetly from its mouth.  
“That sure as Hell isn’t any frost salamander I’ve ever heard of,” Vladius muttered.
“Doesn’t matter,” he heard Havok say from somewhere nearby.  “I’m betting it will still fry nicely, and I’m sort of partial to frog’s legs.”  With that, a massive blast of eldritch energy erupted from right beside the wizard, as the warlock suddenly appeared in the aftermath of his attack.  The bolt struck Madtooth a direct hit in the chest, but the beast didn’t slow.  One giant hop brought it within ten feet of the group…and that’s where it stopped.  Dwilt’s chain lashed out, slashing the froghemoth across the face, and a surge of stunning energy jolted down the weapon and into the creature.  Instantly, it froze, immobile.  
“He’s all yours gents…and lady,” Dwilt said, bowing to Storm.

Just like that, in a flurry of fire, lightning and flashing steel, the battle was over.  Madtooth the hungry would never return to Chult.  The crowd was stunned, but it wasn’t long before the familiar chant of “IMPOTENT RAGE!” began to shake the stadium.  As Talabir Welik struggled to make himself heard over the tumult, the members of the League turned their eyes as one to the box of Prendergast Brokengulf.  For several seconds, shock and discomfort were plainly visible on his face.


----------



## CrusadeDave

*Which Brotherhood?*



			
				JollyDoc said:
			
		

> Hmmm....now that I think of it...a Brotherhood ECL 18, with eight members might just be something I could use....




Would you prefer Magneto, Quicksilver, Scarlet Witch, Toad, Blob, Unus era, 

Or Mystique, Destiny, Blob, Pyro, Avalanche, Rogue era...

Or just some combo of, "Traditional X-Men Villains" not aligned with Mr. Sinister/Apocalypse etc, but with Magneto?


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

What a tough fight. Don't you absolutely hate those failed will saves - that breaks any hope of an organized fight...




			
				JollyDoc said:
			
		

> Suddenly, Vladius’ chest heaved, and his eyes flew open.  He scrabbled to grab the front of Grubber’s tunic.  “You lying son-of-a-harpy!” he screamed.  “You said you were guiding me to Celestia, where forty vestal virgins awaited my personal attention!”
> Grubber shrugged, “I figured you wouldn’t come back if I just told you we needed you for the next match.  Welcome home!”



This quote alone was worth getting up for, today!     




			
				JollyDoc said:
			
		

> As Talabir Welik struggled to make himself heard over the tumult, the members of the League turned their eyes as one to the box of Prendergast Brokengulf.  For several seconds, shock and discomfort were plainly visible on his face.



If that doesn't give the party job satisfaction...


----------



## themind

Shiny!  Another great read.


----------



## LordVyreth

Damn, what was that thing the party fought in the dungeon?  I never heard of it; is it a new monster made for Dungeon or is it in one of the books?  And did they give it the Tick-referencing name or was that you?    

I was impressed at how well it managed to shut down the normally very effective heroes.  Oh, on that note, since I started reading your SH, I did some research on Age of Worms and saw a lot of comments about how brutal the Whispering Cairn was.  Some people are even comparing it to the Tomb of Horrors!  I know we got the brief summary of it, but I wouldn't mind getting a more detailed recap of it or at least some player and DM comments.  How did it go?  Did you find it as hard as advertised?


----------



## JollyDoc

LordVyreth said:
			
		

> Damn, what was that thing the party fought in the dungeon?  I never heard of it; is it a new monster made for Dungeon or is it in one of the books?  And did they give it the Tick-referencing name or was that you?
> 
> I was impressed at how well it managed to shut down the normally very effective heroes.  Oh, on that note, since I started reading your SH, I did some research on Age of Worms and saw a lot of comments about how brutal the Whispering Cairn was.  Some people are even comparing it to the Tomb of Horrors!  I know we got the brief summary of it, but I wouldn't mind getting a more detailed recap of it or at least some player and DM comments.  How did it go?  Did you find it as hard as advertised?




The monster was an alkilith, an ooze demon, straight out of the Fiend Folio, though I advanced it by 4 HD, as recommended by Paizo to scale the adventure for larger groups.  

I was wondering if someone would pick up on the Tick reference    No name was given to the demon in the module as written, but I figured big, snotty blob of ooze.  Thrakerzog, aka "the Uncommon Cold" just seemed to fit.

Personally, I did not think Whispering Cairn was the meat grinder some claimed it to be.  The worst part for our group were the swarms.  They alone almost finished the party.  The Wind Guardians at the end were a bit beefy too, especially since they could fly and could do 2d6 sonic damage in a line effect every single round, no save, no to hit roll needed.


----------



## JollyDoc

CrusadeDave said:
			
		

> Would you prefer Magneto, Quicksilver, Scarlet Witch, Toad, Blob, Unus era,
> 
> Or Mystique, Destiny, Blob, Pyro, Avalanche, Rogue era...
> 
> Or just some combo of, "Traditional X-Men Villains" not aligned with Mr. Sinister/Apocalypse etc, but with Magneto?




Any assortment would do.  I prefer the latter era baddies...sabertooth, mystique, etc.


----------



## demiurge1138

Poor ol' Madtooth. He deserved better.

Great SH. I only recently discovered it, and since I'm running a group through the Age of Worms, it's always good to see another perspective on it. Keep up the good work!

Demiurge out.


----------



## JollyDoc

demiurge1138 said:
			
		

> Poor ol' Madtooth. He deserved better.
> 
> Great SH. I only recently discovered it, and since I'm running a group through the Age of Worms, it's always good to see another perspective on it. Keep up the good work!
> 
> Demiurge out.




By the way, the whole Madtooth incident was what sparked the discussion on the Paizo boards.


----------



## JollyDoc

ENDGAME

It was the last night of the Champion’s Games and the coenoby was a tomb.  Auric and Khellek had retreated to their quarters, offering no word of congratulations or good luck to the members of Impotent Rage.  For their own part, the League had larger concerns.  

“We have to go back down tonight,” Dwilt said.  “It’s our last chance.  We know Brokengulf has something planned, and it’s probably going to come off tomorrow.  That demon is probably guarding the information that we need,and we are going to have to face it again.”
“Are you crazy?”  Vladius shouted.  “After the butt-whipping it handed to us last night…oh, and let’s not forget, one of us, who shall remain nameless, ended up DEAD!”
“Maybe we should have left you that way,” Grubber muttered under his breath.
“I don’t see that we have much choice,” Dwilt continued calmly.  “Either we are here to put an end to this, or we’re not.  It’s all or nothing.”  He looked around for any further dissent, and when none came, he nodded.  “This is our plan.  We make our way back to the shrine, trying to avoid any further entanglements with the wardens this time, and check out the scrolls once again.  Maybe there’s something we missed.  If we get nothing, then we move on to the demon…and we don’t stop this time.”

Miraculously, they made it past the wardens without drawing their attention.  Perhaps the shift that night made a conscious decision NOT to investigate anything untoward, noting what had happened when their predecessors became too curious.  The team arrived in the coffin storage area, and had begun heading towards the training room, when Dwilt held up one hand.  
“Wait a second.  Where does this lead?”  He indicated a small side passage that branched from the hall between the coffin room and the training area.  “Why didn’t we notice this before?”
“Um…we were too busy running too or from a fight,” Vladius offered, “or dieing…”
“Well, let’s not overlook the obvious then,” Dwilt said.  “Come on.”

The narrow passage led due north for twenty or thirty feet before turning sharply left and ending at a plain, wooden door.  After Shay had ascertained that it was safe to open, Grim led the way.  The north part of the small room on the other side was occupied by a piece of ancient machinery built of stone and metal, yet it seemed not to have been in use for centuries.  The structure was connected to the northeast wall by a small pipe.  Storm eagerly pushed past her team mates to get a better view of the apparatus.  Her eyes lit up as she examined it from multiple angles.  “Very intriguing,” she said to herself.
“What is it?” Hawk asked.
“It is a water pump, once magical, unless I miss my guess.  It looks to have been capable of siphoning enormous quantities of water at one time.  I would think that pipe connects to the well.”
“How do you know all this?” Vladius asked.  “I thought you studied magic, not engineering.”
“We drow are long lived, my young friend,” she smiled.  “Such longevity can at times become tedious, and when a drow, like myself, is not inclined to engage in the murder and mayhem of house politics, other pursuits must be found.  Tinkering with machines was a hobby of mine.”
“Next you’ll be telling me you’re an alchemist as well,” Vladius said, shaking his head.
“As it just so happens…” Storm began, but Dwilt interrupted her. 
“Fascinating as this conversation is, you said something about a well.”
“Ah, yes,” Storm replied.  “Obviously the pump must have a well in which to siphon the water.  It should be at the other end of this pipe.”
Dwilt looked appraisingly at the conduit before turning to Vladius, “I think it’s just large enough for you to fit.”
“What?  Me?” the mephit shrieked.  “And why would I want to go into a smelly, narrow pipe, all by myself, to find Kossuth knows what at the other end.”
“You’re the only one small enough to fit,” Dwilt observed.  “Besides, we’ll tie a rope to you and haul you back if you run into any problems.”
“How reassuring,” Vladius spat.

Nevertheless, a few minutes later the wizard was scurrying along the pipe, muttering and cursing to himself all the way.  As he rounded one final bend in the tube, he spied a familiar green light coming from up ahead.  Advancing cautiously, he approached the end of the conduit.  Peering out he beheld a huge, vaulted chamber, dimly illuminated by an emerald glow.  There, a colossal, disgusting behemoth, similar to a gigantic, yellowish grub lay on a heap of rubble, bones and rotting foulness.  The creature seemed immersed in a magical slumber, and its horrid body pulsated with an abominable, ever-increasing power.  Shambling around the perimeter of the chamber was a ragged corpse dressed in rotting noble raiment.

“Holy crap!” Pyro hissed to himself, before backing quickly and quietly back down the pipe.
“Umm…I think we’ve got trouble,” he said as he emerged from the conduit, and then proceeded to tell his team mates what he’d found.  “And,” he continued, “it seems like that same force field or whatever it is, seals off the room from this access as well.  Oh, and by the way, I think I found Urtos’ dad.”
“Then the scrolls have to be the answer,” Havok stated.  “We have to find a way to get rid of that stasis field.”

The group retraced their steps to the altar of Kyuss and the Apostolic Scrolls.  Along the way, they noticed a conspicuous absence of bodies, dead or undead.  The spawn, the mohrgs, even Bozal Zahol…all gone.  There was not even a trace of blood.  In the altar room itself, nothing else had changed.  The scrolls still floated in mid-air, the arcing beam of emerald energy connecting them to the doors across the room, which had been shut once again.  The zone of unnatural silence still permeated the chamber.  

Pyro, Grubber, Storm, and Havok wracked their collective arcane knowledge for ways to overcome the temporal stasis.  Dispelling fields failed, but did succeed in removing the unhallow effect, and thus the silence, from the chamber.  An attempt to encase the scrolls in a resilient force bubble also had no effect.  Grubber, at one point, even attempted to call upon the power of Grumbar that allowed him to strike fear into, or even to destroy undead, against the unholy doors which bore Kyuss’ visage.  He was rewarded for his attempt by a backlash of negative energy, and decided not to try again.

Ultimately realizing that any ability to affect the scrolls was apparently beyond them, Havok approached the glowing parchments.  
“What are you doing?” Dwilt called after him.
“I have one last idea,” Havok replied distractedly.  As he stood over the scrolls, he closed his eyes, blinding himself to their words.  Then, calming his breathing, and reaching deep into his subconscious, he allowed just a fraction of his true heritage to come to the surface.  Instantly, he felt rage, hatred, and the need for murderous violence.  Glaring at his team mates, he had to physically restrain himself from melting each of them into slag.  Focusing, he looked upon the words of the Apostolic Scrolls.  They were scribed in the language of the Abyss, and were clear to him.  He realized that it would take hours, if not days, to decipher the entire text, but the underlying purpose of the scrolls was revealed to him:  they provided the means to conduct a ritual which would summon a so-called ‘Apostle of Kyuss’ so that it could perform a mass sacrifice in honor of its master.  With a great effort of will, Havok closed his eyes again, and centered himself, relaxing his breathing once more.  When he looked up, it was simply his friends that he saw.

“Grim,” he said as he walked away from the altar.  “Where are we now in relation to the arena?”
The dwarf looked around him, sniffing the air.  “I’d say we’re almost directly under it.”
“That would make sense,” Giovanni nodded.  “I read a little of the scrolls.  Goat-boy summoned the ulgurstasta, the ‘Apostle of Kyuss.’  He needs it to perform a sacrifice…a massive sacrifice.  Don’t you see?  Its chamber is right under the arena!  He and Brokengulf mean to release it there at the height of the games…when thousands of spectators will be present!”
“Oh…” Dwilt said, “oh my…he wouldn’t?  Can you stop it Giovanni?  Did it tell you how to stop it?”
The warlock shook his head.
“Then there is no point in worrying about what we can’t control,” Dwilt said.  “Let’s worry about what we can.  First, we’re dealing with that demon.  It might be guarding something that will give us some answers.”
_______________________________________________

Thrakerzog nursed his wounds, cursing Bozal Zahol’s name.  That wretch of a half-breed had managed to get himself killed, leaving the alkilith with no way to heal the injuries inflicted upon him by those damnable adventurers.  Despite that, the demon smiled.  Bozal and his minions had made a fine feast for his ‘pets.’  Thrakerzog would make sure and look the priest up once he managed to return to the Abyss.  Perhaps he’d been reborn as a lemure, and Thrakerzog could keep him as a pet.

He was just allowing himself a moment to savor that vision when he heard a clangor of metal coming from the direction of Bozal’s bedroom, where he’d left two of his thralls to guard against the return of the interlopers.  It would appear they were back for more…
______________________________________________________

When Grim had cautiously opened the door to the priest’s quarters, the first thing he saw where the two large globs, which looked like giant wads of yellow snot, pooled on the floor…and they were moving.  They undulated towards him, pseudopods extruding hungrily from their bodies.  
“Ochre jellies!” he called behind him to his companions, “I’ve seen’em before in the mines!  Nasty buggers…and they secret some kind of acid.”
Havok, still in the altar room, peered down the hall and saw one of the jellies advancing on Grim.  Pointing one finger, he sent a thin beam of eldritch energy in a surgical strike past his friends in front of him, striking the ooze and leaving a black scar on its amorphous hide.

“How do ya like that, beastie?” Grim shouted, as he stepped into the room and cleaved the jelly with his axe.  Shockingly, his axe went all the way through the ooze, splitting it in two.  “Guess I don’t know my own strength,” he said wonderingly.  But then his surprise turned to disgust as he realized that now both halves of the jelly where coming towards him and he was now under attack by three oozes.  “Didn’t know they could do that,” he said.

Pyro, who could now see the jellies himself, and knew of them from one of Ondabar’s books, shook his head and rolled his eyes.  “Even I knew that,” he said sarcastically.  “Don’t hit them with anything that slices or dices.  Arrows are fine, but otherwise this whole place is going to literally be crawling with these things.”

Shay unslung his bow at Pyro’s reassurance about arrows.  Drawing to his cheek, he fired a shaft directly into one of the jellies near Grim.  The arrow sank into the blob and just quivered there.  “ I thought you said arrows worked,” he said, turning to Pyro.  The wizard shrugged, “Well, at least it didn’t split it again.  Let’s try this.”  Pulling out a thin wand, he spoke a word and loosed a volley of magic missiles at one of the smaller oozes.  It dissolved gratifyingly into a harmless pool of goo.

At that moment Grim saw two more jellies enter the bedchamber from the direction of the room where they had first encountered the alkilith.  “We’ve got more incoming!” he shouted.  
“I’ve got’em,” Storm called from the hallway behind him, and with a few arcane words, she hurled a fireball into the chamber, immolating all of the fine furnishings, and obliterating one of the new oozes as it entered.  Unfortunately, Grimm had still been standing at the entrance to the room, and got caught in the fringe of the blast.  His stony hide smoked, but he was little more than singed.  “Thanks…I think,” he grumbled.  “I’ll keep’em bottled up in the room,” he continued, moving to completely block the door so that the oozes could not get past him.  “Keep up the assault…just leave me out of it!”

Havok blasted one of the other oozes from behind the dwarf, and Pyro and Storm each fired volleys of magic missiles, destroying a second jelly as Hawk moved up to reinforce the mineral warrior.  There were now only two of the ochre jellies remaining, and both were still in the corridor between the bedchamber and the alkilith’s room.  Grimm rushed across the bedroom to keep them from progressing any further, and it was then that he saw it…the same roiling, yellow-green cloud that had pursued them last night.  It was filling the hallway behind the advancing jellies, coming right towards him.  “It’s coming!” he warned the others.  “Fall back!”  As he heeded his own advice, Pyro flitted up behind him.  
“Not just yet,” the mephit said.  “If the cloudkill is here, then the demon must be somewhere behind it.  I’m going to try to kill three blobs with one stone, so to speak.”  Chanting, he then lobbed a fireball right into the middle of the cloudkill.  It detonated, scorching the ochre jellies.  Just for a fraction of a second, Pyro almost thought that he saw the cloud itself recoil.  Probably just his imagination.  What was not his imagination was the blast of cold and ice the came out of the cloud next, engulfing him and Grim.   

Luckily, Pyro had found himself just on the edge of the cone-shaped blast, though his hands and feet still felt numb to the bone.  Grim, however, caught the brunt of it.  The dwarf didn’t look good at all.  “Get out of here!” the mephit shouted at him.  “If you get yourself killed, there is no way I’m hauling your half-ton carcass out.  I’m right behind you.  I’m gonna give it one more try first, though.”  Grim nodded reluctantly, knowing that the wizard was right.  He stumbled out of the room, past Hawk, as Pyro unleashed another fiery blast.  The jellies looked worse for wear, but still they advanced, the deadly cloud right behind them.  
“That’s it,” he said to Hawk as he darted out of the room.  “We’ve got to regroup.”  Hawk waited until he was clear, then slammed the door closed on the jellies, retreated back to the altar chamber, and closed that door as well.

Grubber was already tending Grim’s wounds, reading a powerful healing abjuration from a scroll.  The others took up defensive positions, focusing on the door, knowing it was only a matter of moments before their opponents began battering their way through.
______________________________________________

Thrakerzog was actually enjoying himself.  Although the pathetic little wizard’s spells had actually managed to singe him a bit, it was going to be worth it to see their faces as he suffocated the life out of them.  They thought themselves safely locked behind closed doors.  He simply loved dashing the hopes of little people.  He concentrated…and teleported.
________________________________________________

Out of thin air, the fuming vapors of the cloudkill suddenly filled the entire altar chamber, enveloping the whole team in its deadly coils.  Instantly, each of them felt the life literally draining out of them, like a leech sucking blood.  Storm, in a panic, simply ran.  Blinded and stumbling, she managed to lurch out of the edge of the cloud and into the training room.  Pyro flew the other way, ending up in the hall leading to the ulgurstasta’s abode.  Dwilt, Grubber and Havok also managed to find their way to temporary safety, following Storm.

Giovanni knew something was wrong, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.  How could a spell move like that…almost as if it were intelligent.  Wait…that was it!  Raising his hand, he sent his most powerful blast of eldritch might into the cloud, but it simply flashed on the edge of the mists, not penetrating deeper.  Still, he knew he was right.  “It’s the cloud!” he shouted.  “The demon is the cloud!  Attack the mists…now!”

Still within the mist wall, Grim heard Havok’s shout.  It sounded useless, but he couldn’t see any better option.  With a grunt of effort, he began swinging randomly at the fumes around him, not feeling solid impact anywhere he struck.  Shay began firing into the mist as well, aiming upwards so as not to accidentally hit any of his team mates.  He heard his arrows strike the stone ceiling and snap, but saw no other effect from his attack.

Pyro heard Havok’s shout as well, and he had a good idea that the warlock was actually on to something.  The wizard had one more fireball left…a big one, but if he simply hurled it blindly into the room, he might hit his friends.  He reached a decision quickly.  It was a risk he would have to take.  Otherwise, they were dead anyway.  

The blast ripped through the altar chamber, hurling Grim and Hawk against the walls with its force.  Shay, his reflexes almost supernatural, somersaulted into the hall leading to the training area, avoiding the searing flames.  From within the cloud, they all heard an inhuman howl of pain.  Havok was right.  The cloud was alive!

Hawk smiled grimly.  If it could feel pain, then it could die.  He summoned every ounce of holy power that Torm would grant him, focusing it into his blade.  With a cry, he jabbed the sword straight up, feeling it meet resistance, and seeing a vivid flash of pure, white energy.  With a muffled whoomph, the cloud collapsed on itself, leaving the oozing, yet clearly dead form of the alkilith lying in the center of the chamber.

Hawk knew the fight wasn’t quite over.  There was still the matter of the ochre jellies.  He rushed to the door across the room, putting his ear to it, listening for tell-tale sounds.  Suddenly, from beneath the door, a pseudopod swiped at his leg.  Dancing back a pace, he  thrust open the door.  Both jellies were right on the other side.  Bringing his shield arm back, he smashed the convex surface of it straight into the ooze, splattering it into harmless glop.  As the last one surged forward, two scorching rays of fire flashed over his shoulder, burning it to a smoking stain.  Hawk turned and saw Storm behind him, guilt in her eyes at her previous fear.  He nodded in thanks, patting her on the shoulder.
____________________________________________________

A thorough search of the alkilith’s room turned up exactly nothing.  It was empty save for the urn, the curtain, and the mosaic image of Kyuss.  Still, Shay managed to pry two gem stones from the eye-sockets of the skeletal visage.  “No since letting them go to waste,” he said, slipping them into his belt pouch.

A short hallway lead from the room and ended at a small, wooden door.  “Maybe we’ll find what we need beyond,” Dwilt sighed, growing ever more pessimistic about their chances of destroying the scrolls.  Indeed, what they discovered on the other side of the door was simply Bozal Zahol’s personal privy.

“What now?” Vladius laughed, “Looks like our search has literally turned up Jack and crap…and Jack just left.”
“Now we have no choice left to us but the truth,” Giovanni said quietly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vladius asked.  “That we’re screwed?”
“No,” the warlock said, a hard look coming into his eyes.  “It means we tell the truth.  To Auric and Khellek…and anyone who’ll listen.  We need help in this…all we can get.
_________________________________________________

When Khellek opened the door to his quarters, still bleary-eyed from sleep, the last thing he expected to see was the entire team of Impotent Rage standing outside.  
“The competition is not until morning,” the wizard said dryly.  “Planning on ambushing us in our sleep?  Not very sporting, is it?”
“We need to talk,” Giovanni said.  “It’s important, and though you probably won’t believe us, thousands of lives are at stake.”

Thirty minutes later, Khellek was still standing in the open doorway, Auric behind him now.  They were both staring dumbfounded at the clearly insane man in front of them.  
“I must say,” the wizard finally began, “I am, for once, speechless.  This has to be the most blatant, and stupid, display of gamesmanship that I have ever witnessed.  You actually expect us to believe that Prendergast Brokengulf, an icon in this city, is in league with some secret cult of, whom did you say?  Kyuss?  That he has conspired to have you assassinated, and has managed to summon some undead behemoth, that in turn is planning on turning the entire spectatorship of the arena into undead as well…and you are the only ones who have caught on to this?  The Lords, or the Grey Hand Enforcers, or Blackstaff himself are all clueless, yet you geniuses figured all this out for yourselves.  Oh, and now you want us to accompany you out of the coenoby, which we are restricted from leaving, to see ‘proof’ of this.  How convenient.  Do you think we are fools?  Is this the best you could come up with to have us disqualified?  Do you lack that much confidence in your ability to win fairly tomorrow?”
Giovanni endured the rant.  “Are you finished?” he asked
“Is there anything more to say?” Khellek glared, “Or may we go back to bed now?”
“It’s fine that you don’t believe us,” the warlock continued, “but at least grant us this.  Tomorrow, after the match begins, we give our word not to attack you with lethal force in the opening minutes, if you do the same.  Then, when the ulgurstasta appears, which it will, you give your word to aid us against it.  If it does not appear, then we will all lay down our weapons and surrender, declaring you and Auric the champions.  What do you have to lose?”
Khellek and Auric stared a moment longer.  “You truly are insane,” the wizard shook his head, “but if it is your wish to throw away your chance at victory, farbeit for us to stand in your way.  You have our word, but be assured, if you violate your oath, we will kill you to a man, surrender or not.”  With that, he slammed the door.

“Well that went well,” Vladius said.  
“We had no choice,” Dwilt said.  “Giovanni was right.  I’m going a step further.  I’m taking Grubber with me, tonight, and we are leaving the arena…disqualifying ourselves.  We’re going to Dagsumn to tell him what is happening.  Maybe he can use his contacts in the city to help us tomorrow.  If not, we will be in the stands in the morning.  Good luck my friends…to all of us.”
___________________________________________________

At noon the following day, a warden entered the coenoby for the last time.  “Auric’s Warband!” he called.  “Impotent Rage!  You are summoned!”  The teams gathered their gear and followed the warden up the familiar hall to the lift chamber.  Neither Khellek nor Auric even glanced at the opposing team.  Once they reached the lift, both teams began their preparatory magics.  Khellek  and Auric both quaffed potions, and then Khellek created several mirror images of himself which moved about him in a confusing pattern.  Pyro transformed Storm into a troll, at her request, to better increase her endurance for the coming battle.  Both Shay and Havok faded from view, per their routine, and as usual, Pyro assumed mephit form.

The arena stands were filled almost to capacity as the two teams took their positions.  At least ten-thousand strong, they roared their approval for the champions and the challengers.  Talabir Welik took the podium, and that was when Havok noticed that Prendergast Brokengulf was not in his usual spot in the VIP box.  In fact, he was nowhere to be seen.  More disturbing, Dwilt and Grubber were not visible either, yet it was a large arena.  They could be anywhere.

“Welcome, one and all, to the final match of the Champion’s Games!” Welik shouted.  “Without further preamble, I introduce to you our reigning champions Auric’s Warband and the Stoneworks!”  Thunderous applause greeted the introduction, and a portcullis lifted directly behind Auric and Khellek, revealing three large stone statues of burly warriors.  At a word from Khellek, all three lumbered forward, taking up positions in front of the wizard and Auric.

“Before I introduce their challengers,” Welik continued, “I must first announce that Dwilt Riddick and Colossus have been disqualified.”  His proclamation was met with loud boos and jeers.  “Yet here they are, the dark horse team from Daggerford, which has shocked and awed us with their prowess during these games!  Impotent Rage!”  It was difficult to say who received the greater accolades, the champions or their opponents.  Anticipation surged through the Field of Triumph.  “On my word!”  Welik raised his hand, then dropped it, “Fight!”

Auric took flight, obviously enabled by one of the many potions he’d consumed.  As he rose into the air, he tossed his shield away from him, where it hovered, following his every move.  He drew his greatsword from its sheath, facing Impotent Rage.  Khellek also took flight, conjuring up a shining shield of force before him as he soared.  One by one, the members of Impotent Rage began fanning out, Hawk advancing to the fore.  Ponderously, the three stone golems also began marching forward.
___________________________________________________

Standing before the Apostolic Scroll, Prendergast Brokengulf shook with barely contained fury.  Bozal Zahol was dead.  He had to be.  That was the only explanation for his absence.  The veteran gladiator had come seeking his erstwhile ally the previous night, to confirm the days plans, only to find him missing, with obvious signs of a massive struggle, and his alkilith pawn dead.  It was them again.  Always them!  First, they had killed Theldrick, Bozal Zahol’s associate in Daggerford.  Bozal had demanded their deaths for that affront, and so Prendergast had contacted the illithid Ilserv, and contracted with the creature to assassinate the interlopers, not knowing if they had any clue as to his own involvement with the Ebon Triad, but not willing to take any chances.  

Prendergast had originally become involved with Zahol through his wife, Aridarye…that bitch!  It was she who had seduced him into arranging the death of her first husband, Lord Urtos I, his friend.  Then, when his own feelings of guilt and his advancing age spilled over into their bedchamber, she had introduced him to the fiendish priest, who spoke of secret rituals and potent prayers which, if offered to his mysterious god, could halt the aging process.  Initially, when the priest could offer no proof of his claims, nor would he name his patron, Prendergast had him escorted from his villa, but not before Zahol had given him a magical token with which to contact him should he change his mind.  

Exactly one year later, Prendergast did just that.  He had discovered that the slut Aridarye was cheating on him with a young gladiator named Auric, exactly as she had cheated on her first husband with him.  She had coldly informed Prendergast that he was no longer welcome in her bed, saying that he was too old to satisfy her, and had rejected her efforts to find a way to keep him young.  Still consumed with guilt over his betrayal of Urtos, and now morbidly depressed over Aridarye’s rejection, he had convinced Zahol to return to Waterdeep.  He spent many long hours with the priest, learning more about Kyuss and his dark promises.  He began funneling money, at Zahol’s behest, back to the secret cell of the Ebon Triad in Daggerford.  He and Zahol secretly plotted to prepare the ritual which would mark Prendergast as a favorite of Kyuss, so that he might escape death and decay.  Such an unholy miracle required a massive sacrifice performed by one of the Apostles of Kyuss, the ‘blood of a champion,’ and the bones of a victim murdered by the would-be favorite of Kyuss.  To meet the last requirement, Prendergast had the corpse of Urtos I stolen from House Phylund’s family tomb and gave it over to Zahol.

Unbelievably, Ilserv and his doppelgangers had failed to kill the upstarts from Daggerford, and Prendergast was convinced that they now knew of his involvement with the cult.  Miraculously, they had signed up for the Games, undoubtedly to get closer to him, but it was he who would use the Games to destroy them…or so he had thought.  They had defeated the premier team that he had sent against them…Pitchblade.  They had killed Madtooth, which he had arranged for them to fight instead of Auric’s band, and now they had apparently murdered Bozal Zahol.  They had not managed to undo the ritual though.  He smiled grimly as he looked down at the still glowing scrolls.  They were all against him.  All of them!  He knew the gladiators schemed and plotted, waiting eagerly for his demise so one of them could replace him as the younger, more handsome director of the Field of Triumph.  Auric in particular wanted to take his place, and it was he who would suffer the most.  It was his blood which would anoint the Apostle during the final match.

Brokengulf then raised the black rod he had procured and touched it to the energy field surrounding the scrolls.  Instantly it vanished, and the scrolls dropped to the floor.  “Now go,” he whispered.  “Go to the champions you seek.”
_______________________________________________________

A rumble shook the arena.  At first the crowd thought that some destructive magic had been conjured by one of the battling wizards, but then the center of the arena floor heaved, sending a geyser of dirt and rubble into the air.
“Destruction of the arena floor is not allowed!” Talabir Welik shouted.  “That is a disqualifying offense!”  The words had barely left his mouth, however, when the ulgurstasta appeared.  It looked like a massive pale-yellow maggot.  Twin rows of dozens of pulpy, rudimentary legs tipped with bony spurs lined its underbelly.  Its head was studded with dozens of humanoid eyes, below which drooled a maw filled with hooked teeth.  Millions of distended pores that continuously weeped a foul-smelling mucous covered its body.  It radiated a cloying stink of rotting flowers and sour milk.  Protruding from the pores were forty-foot long, hair-thin tendrils, which whipped about in a frenzy, lashing at the nearby members of Impotent Rage, as well as the stone golems.  

The audience was shocked into stunned silence, not sure if this was part of the competition or not.  At that moment, Havok appeared in the midst of the crowd.  “Flee for your lives!” he shouted, and the moment broke.  Screams of panic were deafening, and a mob scene of panic ensued.

Auric couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  They had actually been telling the truth.  All of it was true…and Brokengulf was behind it.  For a moment, the face of Aridarye Brokengulf flashed in his mind, and he briefly wondered if his secret lover’s hand was involved in any of this.  Then his focus returned, and he was once again what he had always been at his core…a warrior…a gladiator.  Bellowing a war cry, he flew towards the behemoth in front of him, but he got no closer than twenty feet from it, when it’s massive maw snatched him from the air.

Pyro had already begun casting his spell when Auric charged, and he could not pull it back.  With a massive concussion, a huge fireball erupted around both the ulgurstasta and Auric.  

Shay was afraid.  He had seen many bizarre and evil things in his short time with the League, had even faced death.  But this…this was so far beyond his capabilities that he could not even fathom where to begin.  Acting on pure instinct, he fired a single arrow at the monstrosity, and then ran for arena wall, which he nimbly scaled into the stands.

Khellek was horrified.  Not only had those idiots been right, but now Auric was caught, and might be killed at any moment.  Khellek was not a man who made friends easily.  He belonged to an organization known as the Seekers, a less-than scrupulous group of archaeologists and adventurers who sought out knowledge regardless of the cost.  He had initially joined up with Auric and Tirra simply because they suited his needs at the time, but now he honestly considered the man to be more than just a resource.  Drawing a wand from his robes, he pointed it at the ulgurstasta and sent a pair of scorching beams of flame at it, simultaneously ordering his golems to attack without mercy.

Storm flew into the stands to join Havok.  “Were you prepared for this?” she asked, indicating not only the ulgurstasta, but also the panicking crowd.  
“No,” Havok answered honestly, “but what choice did we have? This is our hand, and we must play it till the end.”  Raising his palm, he unleashed his magic at the great worm before him, only to see the beam vanish as soon as it struck the creature’s hide.

As one, the stone golems struck.  Wading through the whipping tendrils as if they didn’t exist, the three constructs surged towards the ulgurstasta, hammering at its bloated body with their massive fists, sending great gouts of ichor splashing over them.  The undead worm roared its rage, but instead of turning on the golems, it instead faced towards Hawk and Grim, with Shay standing just above them in the lower tier of the stands.  It’s great body heaved in a lurching spasm, and from its maw spewed a vile cone of steaming, acidic stomach contents.  Shay managed to leap backwards to safety at the last moment, but Grim and Hawk could not.  As the horrid liquid touched their skin, it didn’t burn.  Instead, a cold like the hand of death seeped into their pores, and they felt numbing weakness overcome them.  Auric too was caught in the brunt of the blast, trapped as he was in the creature’s mouth.  Instantly, his struggles ceased, and he went limp.  Even more appalling than the stew which the ulgurstasta regurgitated, what appeared to be nine corpses also spilled to the ground around Hawk and Grim.  However, no sooner had they hit the dirt, than they lurched to their feet.  Seven of them were skeletal, with one of those draped in ragged, decaying noble garb, but the other two corpses were unquestionably Kyuss spawn, green worms spilling from their eye sockets and mouths.  
Almost as an afterthought, the ulgurstasta dropped Auric at the feet of the spawn.  Almost gently, each of them reached down to touch the gladiator’s exposed flesh, and where their hands met his skin, a black imprint was left behind.  

Pyro hurled another fireball at the ulgurstasta, at the same time that Khellek unleashed another pair of scorching rays.  Both spells simply dissipated upon contact with the brute.  
Slowly peering over the wall behind which he hid, Shay’s eyes grew wider at the horror he was witnessing.  Steeling his resolve, he knocked another pair of arrows and let fly.

Hawk was surrounded.  Skeletal corpses ringed him, separating him from both Grim and Auric.  Meanwhile, the ripping tendrils protruding from the ulgurstasta continued to lash at his skin.  He needed to clear some room, and fast.  Closing his eyes, he concentrated, sending out a mental summons into the ether.  ‘Alice,’ he cried, ‘my need is great!  Heed my call!’  Suddenly, a thunderous trumpeting filled the air, and materializing just beyond the ring of skeletons was an elephant of truly monstrous proportions…Big Alice.  Knowing her master’s will instinctively, she lowered her head, leveling her massive tusks, and charged, trampling a pair of the skeletons under her tree-trunk feet, and batting one of the spawn aside like a rag-doll.  With a gesture, holding forth his shield emblazoned with Torm’s symbol, Hawk cried out, “In Torm’s name, I destroy and rebuke thee!”  The remaining skeletons crumbled to dust at his feet, while the second spawn quailed from him, turning and fleeing towards the opposite end of the arena.

The crowd surging around Havok and Storm was getting out of control.  In moments they would be overwhelmed.  Quickly, the warlock stepped between dimensions to a relatively clear spot, while the sorceress took to the air once more, conjuring an orb of concentrated acid in her hand and hurling it at the ulgurstasta, only to see it bounce harmlessly off the creature’s grotesque hide.

The golems continued to pound on the ulgurstasta, the damage they were inflicting obviously taking its toll.  Ponderously, the behemoth turned on them, seizing one of them in its jaws and swallowing it whole.  As soon as its attention was turned from him, Hawk charged forward, but the creature moved with the speed of a striking cobra.  Whipping around, it lunged at the civilar, sinking its fangs into his chest and back, and lifting him bodily from the ground.  As he screamed in agony, Alice looked up from where she has just finished impaling the spawn which had fled, unusual intelligence, and fear showing in her eyes.
“Hawk!  No!” Havok cried, and summoning all his power to him, he loosed an awesome amount of energy at the ulgurstasta, blowing its bloated form into a hundred pieces.


----------



## Solarious

Well... at least look at it this way. The team didn't completely fail: the ulgurstasta didn't manage to swallow a Fighter whole and complete the ritual, summoning a host of undead souls to inflict negative levels on the hapless citizens of Waterdeep, plauging the entire city with thousands of wrights.  As it stands, it's only a minor disaster. Congrats on making it to the final event, letting the worm loose on the arena, and still killing it. 

Still, it would have been interesting to have the League battle a Mob (the template) of Wights... I wonder what kind of suffering that would have brought?


----------



## R-Hero

> …Big Alice. Knowing her master’s will instinctively, she lowered her head, leveling her massive tusks, and charged, trampling a pair of the skeletons under her tree-trunk feet, and batting one of the spawn aside like a rag-doll.




Whoo-hoo!! Zombie bowling  


Hats off to you JD, Your pace is amazing.


----------



## Joachim

Solarious said:
			
		

> Well... at least look at it this way. The team didn't completely fail: the ulgurstasta didn't manage to swallow a Fighter whole and complete the ritual, summoning a host of undead souls to inflict negative levels on the hapless citizens of Waterdeep, plauging the entire city with thousands of wrights.  As it stands, it's only a minor disaster.




Because we had no way to know what would happen if the Apostle had swallowed a Fighter, we were lucky.  Plus, because of our slightly reduced level, it was actually impossible for us to prevent the ritual, and thus we knew that we would have to deal with the Ulgurstasta in the arena.  This actually worked out to our advantage, because we had the help of 3 stone golems.

Great work on the update, Joe.  Very nice.


----------



## JollyDoc

R-Hero said:
			
		

> _…Big Alice. Knowing her master’s will instinctively, she lowered her head, leveling her massive tusks, and charged, trampling a pair of the skeletons under her tree-trunk feet, and batting one of the spawn aside like a rag-doll._
> 
> Whoo-hoo!! Zombie bowling
> 
> 
> Hats off to you JD, Your pace is amazing.




Thanks!  This latest post brings us exactly up to date with real game time.  Hopefully, I can keep it that way and not get behind.


----------



## LordVyreth

Solarious said:
			
		

> Well... at least look at it this way. The team didn't completely fail: the ulgurstasta didn't manage to swallow a Fighter whole and complete the ritual, summoning a host of undead souls to inflict negative levels on the hapless citizens of Waterdeep, plauging the entire city with thousands of wrights.  As it stands, it's only a minor disaster. Congrats on making it to the final event, letting the worm loose on the arena, and still killing it.
> 
> Still, it would have been interesting to have the League battle a Mob (the template) of Wights... I wonder what kind of suffering that would have brought?




Ugh, I'm not a fan of the mob template, and judging by the Shackled City SH, I don't think Jolly's group is either.  It's probably for the best.

And heh, Big Alice...


----------



## JollyDoc

LordVyreth said:
			
		

> Ugh, I'm not a fan of the mob template, and judging by the Shackled City SH, I don't think Jolly's group is either.  It's probably for the best.
> 
> And heh, Big Alice...




The high point of last week's game session was when Big Alice arrived.  For those of you who aren't aware, we all live in Alabama.  The University of Alabama's football team is known as the Crimson Tide, and their mascot is the elephant.  Well, when I asked Fred, aka R-hero, aka Hawk what he was going to do on his turn, he simply placed a pocket tape recorder on the table and pushed play.  First, we heard the sound of an elephant trumpeting, followed by the Crimson Tide fight song.  It was priceless!


----------



## Joachim

And the Tide elephant's name is Big Al.  Ergo, Big Alice.  We had been joking about it since Fred made the character, but no one expected him to actually have the tape recorder in hand.  

IMHO, it was CLASSIC, and that is coming from a dyed-in-the-wool Auburn man (Auburn is the other state university, and the two teams share one of the meanest rivalries in football).


----------



## R-Hero

Since she has had a proper intruduction....

Big Alice
CR 7; Huge HD 14d8+70 (Magical Beast)                  
Hit Points 133
Init +0; 
Spd 25; 

AC:25 (Flatfooted:25 Touch:8); 

Atk +18 base melee, +8 base ranged;
+18/+13 (3d6+10, Slam; 3d6+5, 2 Hoof); 
+18 (3d8+15, Gore);

SA: Trample (Ex) ; SQ: Scent (Ex), Low-light Vision (Ex); 

AL N; SV Fort +14, Ref +9, Will +9; 

STR 31, DEX 10, CON 21, INT 6, WIS 13, CHA 7.
Skills: Listen +10, Spot +10. 

Feats: Improved Natural Attack Gore, Hoof, and Slam 
Iron Will, Bullheaded

Possessions: 
Armor: +1 Chainmail, Barding (1,750 gp).


Special Attacks: Trample (Ex): An elephant can trample Medium-size or smaller creatures for automatic slam damage. Opponents who do not make attacks of opportunity against the elephant can attempt a Reflex save (DC 20) to halve the damage.

And the usual paladin mount abilities (Share saving throws, empathic link etc.)  
Keep an eye open for a celestial mount coming up soon. (She'll be going to xhibit and the boys at Pimp my Ride)


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

Solarious said:
			
		

> Well... at least look at it this way. The team didn't completely fail: the ulgurstasta didn't manage to swallow a Fighter whole and complete the ritual, summoning a host of undead souls to inflict negative levels on the hapless citizens of Waterdeep, plauging the entire city with thousands of wrights.  As it stands, it's only a minor disaster. Congrats on making it to the final event, letting the worm loose on the arena, and still killing it.
> 
> Still, it would have been interesting to have the League battle a Mob (the template) of Wights... I wonder what kind of suffering that would have brought?



Things could really have gotten very, very ugly! A problem well solved, indeed !!! Will the DM allow you to get your hands on the main villain or will he slip through your fingers, to die another day?  
Also congrats on the creation of a "classic moment"! 

JollyDoc, why did you change some little things from the module (e.g. Brokengulf's name)? Did you just not like the sound of the original?


----------



## Solarious

Joachim said:
			
		

> Because we had no way to know what would happen if the Apostle had swallowed a Fighter, we were lucky.



Very lucky indeed! The ulgurstasta had Auric in it's mouth, and was on the very verge of swallowing him whole a couple of times there. If Jolly was feeling particularly cruel, I'm sure Hawk would have made a suitable replacement. 

And once more, I congratulate you! You managed to stopped the bad ending!


----------



## ltclnlbrain

Neverwinter Knight said:
			
		

> JollyDoc, why did you change some little things from the module (e.g. Brokengulf's name)? Did you just not like the sound of the original?




Paizo.com has been releasing conversion appendices for each of the Age of worms modules in order to better fit them into the Forgotten Realms and Eberron settings.  JollyDoc's merely following the suggestions put forth in the FR conversion notes.


----------



## JollyDoc

ltclnlbrain said:
			
		

> Paizo.com has been releasing conversion appendices for each of the Age of worms modules in order to better fit them into the Forgotten Realms and Eberron settings.  JollyDoc's merely following the suggestions put forth in the FR conversion notes.




What he said )  Last night we wrapped things up into a neat little package (more or less) with Champion's Belt, and began A Gathering of Winds...here's a little teaser...trolls and ghouls wrestling on the ground while covered in oil...yummmmmm


----------



## Joachim

Levelled again!  Not too many changes, but a couple...

*Giovanni Vito, aka "Havok" (Warlock 10)*
----------------------------------------------------------------------
*Medium Humanoid (Human)*
*Hit Dice:* 10d6+20 (60 hp)
*Initiative:* +4
*Speed:* Move 30' (6 squares)
*Armor Class:* 18 (+4 Dex, +4 Armour), 14 touch, 14 flat-footed
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +7/+6
*Attack:* _Eldritch Blast_ +11 ranged touch (7d6)
*Full Attack:* _Eldritch Blast_ +11 ranged touch (7d6)
*Space/Reach:* 5 feet/5 feet
*Special Attacks:* Invocations, Eldritch Blast
*Special Qualities:* Human traits, _Detect Magic_ (Sp) at will, Deceive Item, DR 2/cold iron, Fiendish Resilience 1, Fire Resistance 5, Electricity Resistance 5
*Saves:* Fort +10, Ref +9, Will +9
*Abilities:* Str 8, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 16
*Skills:* Concentration +20, Knowledge (planes) +12, Knowledge (religion) +12 [+16 regarding Kyuss or his cult], Knoweldge (arcana) +12, Spellcraft +16 (+23 to identify scrolls with _detect magic_), Use Magic Device +16 (+23 for any check involving scrolls)
*Feats:* Noncombatant (Flaw), Absent-Minded (Trait), Sudden Still Spell, Sudden Maximize Spell, Mortalbane [Eldritch Blast], Spell Penetration, Maximize Spell-Like Ability [Eldritch Blast], Empower Spell-Like Ability [Eldritch Blast], Ranged Precision (Team Feat)
*Environment:* Urban
*Organization:* Solitary or Murder (Gfunk, Ika et al)
*Challenge Rating:* 10
*Treasure:* Goods
*Alignment:* Chaotic Good

_Before you stands an unarmed and unassuming bookish young man of no more than twenty years, complete with thick spectacles.  As he clenches his fist, you swear that his hand is bathed in a sheen of dark energy. _

*COMBAT*
*Eldritch Blast (Sp):* The first invocation acquired by all warlock is the _eldritch blast._  The eldritch blast is a ranged touch attack that is treated as a 1st level spell and has a range of 60 feet.  At Giovanni's current level of power, his eldritch blast deals a base of 5d6 damage (7d6 with his _Greater Chasuble of Fell Power_).

*Invocations (Sp):* Giovanni has acquired a small number of invocations that he can use.  Invocations are identical to spell-like abilities, with the exception that they have somatic components (only).  Invocations can be used at will with no limit in uses per day.  Giovanni has access to the following invocations:

*Least:*
_Eldritch Spear (Blast Shape):_ The range of _eldritch blast_ increases to 250 feet.
_See the Unseen:_ Grants Darkvision 60 feet and _see invisibility_ (24 hour duration).
_Dark One's Own Luck:_ Grants CHA bonus to one save (included with Fort save above, 24 hour duration).

_*Lesser:*_
_Walk Unseen:_ Use _invisibility_ at will (24 hour duration)
_Flee the Scene:_ Use _dimension door_ with close range (25 feet + 5 feet every 2 levels) at will, and leave behind a _major image_ of self in its place.
_Voracious Dispelling:_ Use _dispel magic_ at will, and target takes damage if spells are removed

_*Detect Magic (Sp):*_ Giovanni can use _detect magic_ at will.

*Deceive Item:* Giovanni can always take 10 on Use Magic Device, even if stressful situations would not normally allow him to do so (such as combat).

*Fiendish Resilience (1):* As a free action once per day, Giovanni can call upon the dark forces to heal his wounds.  He gains fast healing 1 for a duration of 2 minutes.

*Energy Resistance:* At 10th level, a Warlock selects two types of energy (in Havok's case, Fire and Electricity) to gain resistance (5 points).

*EQUIPMENT*
_Greater Chasuble of Fell Power, +2 Cloak of Resistance, +1 Ring of Charisma, Gloves of Fortunate Striking, Tunic of Steady Spellcasting, Spellsight Spectacles, Headband of Conscious Effort, Wand of Cure Moderate [26 charges], Wand of Cure Light [31 charges], Wand of Restoration [33 charges], Wand of Mirror Image [50 charges], Wand of True Strike [50 charges], 4 Scrolls of Fly, 6 Scrolls of Comprehend Languages, Scroll of Ethereal Jaunt_.


----------



## Joachim

*Excerpts from the journal of Giovanni Vito, aka 'Havok'* 

_*7th of Mirtul, 1373*

…With the destruction of the Apostle of Kyuss, the panic in the crowd began to fade away.  Slowly, inexorably, that panic transformed into elation.  Before long the throngs that had borne witness to my comrades’ great victory began roaring and shouting.  “IMPOTENT RAGE!  IMPOTENT RAGE!  IMPOTENT RAGE!”  The chant continued for several minutes before Talabir Welik was able to get the crowd under control.  The old magister made his way down to the arena floor and gathered up all of the combatants, Khellek included.  The coliseum patrons stared at the small congress in the center of the arena, quietly awaiting the judge’s announcement with impatient anticipation.  You could have heard a pin drop in the sands at that moment.

Welik inquired as to what in the Nine Hells had just happened, and we obliged him with our knowledge of the creature, how it came to be here, and (most importantly) who was behind the monster’s summoning.  At that point, the unimaginable happened.  Khellek, previously so filled with arrogance and skepticism, told Welik that the crowd needed a champion to be named…and he relinquished any claim to such a title!  Despite our promise to him the night before, the wizard demanded that Welik award us with the Champion’s Belt.  Upon the announcement, the crowd exploded into a cacaphonic uproar.  Pyro, in his air mephit form, grabbed the belt from Welik and flew around the arena with his fists pumping, whipping the crowd into an even deeper frenzy.

At this point, I couldn’t help but notice that two of my teammates were not enjoying the party…Grim and Hawk.  The two of them leaned over the hole from which the giant maggot had erupted, peering into its incubation chamber thirty feet below.  I will never forget the paladin’s cool determination and his confident words as he looked down.

“No one threatens my town and gets away with it.”

I teleported the three of us into the chambers below.  It was our hope to find Prendergast and catch him red-handed, but in this we had no luck.  The fiend had escaped.  However, as far as I was concerned, not all was lost.  As we passed through the doors into Bozal’s sanctuary, I was filled with glee when I saw the remnant Apostolic Scrolls laying on the floor of the chamber.  The magic had been spent from the artifact, but I knew the lore contained within would be of immense value.

When the two warriors and I returned to the arena sands, the crowd was beginning to file out, making their way into the streets to proclaim the might of our intrepid little band.  I was shocked to learn that Pyro and Shay had agreed to Khellek to pay for half of the cost to return Auric’s soul from Ysgard, and that they would see to it that Grubber perform the ritual himself.  I would never have guessed the two of them to be philanthropists, but I guess that you can’t judge a book by its cover…or the first dozen chapters in Pyro’s case.

Sad news came to us later in the day.  Grubber and Dwilt had returned from their Dagsumn’s tower, only to report that they had found the old sage and his wife murdered in their bed.  Making matters even more gruesome, they had been decapitated and their heads stolen!  This, I assume, was to prevent using divination magic to speak with the dead or possibly to prevent raising the dead.  Shay quickly returned with Dwilt and Hawk to the scene of the crime.  After a thorough search, the rogue had located a stack of letters and notes to be delivered to the group’s patron back in Daggerford.  The first letter in the bundle seemed to have been written with an urgent hand, and demanded that Aundabar forward the information on to the two sage's old ‘master’.  The letter's ending trailed off, as though the writing had been suddenly interrupted.

Most conspicuously, under Dagsumn’s bed Shay located a small silver pin.  The pin was that of a stylized bastard sword, which he quickly recognized to be the symbol of Prendergast Brokengulf’s guard.  While this may be a real clue, it seems to be all too convenient.  I am skeptical of the validity and I believe that it could be an attempt at a set-up.  I have been wrong before…

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

*9th of Mirtul, 1373*

Today, a formal parade and celebration were held in dedication of the Champion’s Belt winners.  Not only did they award us with the belt and the finals prize money, but we were offered a position with the Grey Hand Enforcers themselves!  While none of us accepted, it was still a thrill to be considered for such an honor.  The Grey Hands command great respect and immense authority, but their duties and responsibilities to the city of Waterdeep are a bit too constricting for wandering souls such as ourselves.

At the same ceremony, we were also witness to the promotion of Civilar Hawk and Civilar Dwilt, both to the rank of Senior Civilar.  When the Senior epaulettes were placed on Hawk’s shoulders, the aasimar beamed with pride.  For so long, this paladin of Helm had waited for such a moment.  This pride however, was not shared with Civilar Dwilt.  We learned later in the evening that after the ceremony Dwilt not only rejected the promotion, but he turned in his tabard and resigned from his post.  Simply, the man explained to us that the City Guard had become too corrupt, and he had no desire to continue in the charade.  Hawk understood and genuinely respected Dwilt’s decision, but the aasimar was not about to give up hope in the institution to which he had already given so much.

Speaking with Talabir Welik at the ceremony, we learned what we had already had feared: Prendergast Brokengulf is missing, and no one in the city has been able to locate him.  Considering the vast conventional, not to mention magical, resources available to the local magisters, I truly find that hard to believe.  There just might be something to Dwilt’s accusations.  Either they are hiding him, or they are conveniently letting him get away.

Upon breaking for the evening, I returned to my room and continued in my study of the Apostolic Scrolls.  The lore contained within was amazing.  Absolutely insane and terrifying, but amazing none the less.  The scrolls, written in dark Abyssal, contain a long and complex litany filled with horrific annelidic imagery and descriptions.  It was in this reading that I have come to understand the meaning of the Age of Worms, and I am more frightened of the possibilities more than ever before…

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

*12th of Mirtul, 1373*

I write this entry in the middle of the night.  Since reading the Apostolic Scrolls, I have found that my nightmares have been increasing in their intensity.  More than once I have awoken screaming, trying to shake off hundreds of imaginary worms.  Once, I almost released a burst of eldritch power in my sleep, but I awoke in just enough time to control it.  The disturbance has gotten so bad that other patrons have been complaining and the innkeeper has threatened to throw me out on the street if it persists.  That...is the least of my concerns.  What could this mean?  I have always believed that my dreams were in some way linked to my dark magic, but is it possible that my powers are somehow linked with the coming Age of Worms?  Am I some kind of unwilling thrall to Kyuss?

Whatever the case, I believe that it is not happenstance that I have encountered these adventurers and their ever-expanding quest.  Tymora has guided me here and I must follow this path if I am to learn the truth, regardless of how dangerous that path may be.  Once they have completed spending their hard-earned prize money on new equipment, my former teammates are planning to leave Waterdeep to return to Daggerford so that they might take counsel from their patron Aundabar.  Maybe they won’t mind if I tag along.  I think that I have proven myself somewhat useful to them, so it’s possible that they won’t question my motives.  Besides, they might be the only people on the Sword Coast that I actually trust…_


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Excellent, thank you for the extra player's perspective.

GW


----------



## Joachim

Thanks.  I asked JD to let me write the wrap-uo for the Champion's Belt, that way he could concentrate on the beginning for the next module.


----------



## R-Hero

Good read, Rich.  I liked it alot.



> At this point, I couldn’t help but notice that two of my teammates were not enjoying the party…Grim and Hawk. The two of them leaned over the hole from which the giant maggot had erupted, peering into its incubation chamber thirty feet below. I will never forget the paladin’s cool determination and his confident words as he looked down.
> 
> “No one threatens my town and gets away with it.”




I could actually hear Hawk talking in a Dirty Harry-esqe voice.

"_Now your asking yourself, did he Smite Evil twice today or was it only once?  In the confusion, I've forgotten myself. So you have to ask yourself... Do you feel lucky, punk?"_


----------



## JollyDoc

Please forgive my lack of updates this week.  My father died unexpectedly yesterday, and I have been, and will be busy tying up some loose ends.  Hope to be back on track soon.


----------



## hbarsquared

Condolences, my friend.

No apologies needed: take all the time you need.  We all understand.

Take care.


----------



## LordVyreth

I'm sorry to hear it, JD.  Take all the time you need.  My thoughts are with you.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

You know your priorities.  Don't even sweat it.  My heart goes out to you and yours.  These things can drain a family.


GW


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

Concolences from me, as well. I wish you all the best in this difficult time!


----------



## JollyDoc

Thank you all for your concern.  My family and I are doing well.  We've all gotten some closure to some old wounds and family issues.  The funeral was yesterday, and despite the nature of the event, the outcome was a good one, and was healing in many ways.  Thanks again.


----------



## JollyDoc

YOU CAN’T GO HOME AGAIN

Daggerford.  The members of the League stood on a bluff overlooking the walled town with mixed emotions.  For Grubber, Shay, Vladius and Grim it was a homecoming of sorts, albeit a bitter-sweet one.  When they had left the village weeks ago (which now seemed like years), they had thought themselves wise, experienced.  They had been taught the depths of their naïveté with a vengeance.  Smoldering vendettas against the likes of Balabar Smenk now seemed petty and juvenile.  The man was a light weight.  Gideon had been with them then as well.  He dreamed of going to Waterdeep and seeing all that the City of Splendors had to offer, perhaps to return a hero and make his father proud.  Now, he would never return at all.  

For Hawk and Storm, the town brought back painful memories.  The short experience they had with the denizens of Daggerford was one of captivity, torture, and degradation.  To Hawk, it was a matter of honor that he return and set things right, but for Storm, the town was no better than Menzoberranzan, with its cut-throat politics and back-stabbing, hollow promises.  

Dwilt and Giovanni had no knowledge of the town, save what their companions had told them.  Their expectations had not been high, and they were not disappointed.  Dwilt knew that Hawk wanted to take on the corruption and put the garrison firmly in charge, but the former civilar was certain that their purpose was higher.  Daggerford was insignificant…a means to an end, and he wouldn’t look back once he’d wiped its mud off his boots.  

“Something’s wrong,” Vladius said as they surveyed the landscape.  
“How can you tell?” Dwilt asked.  “The whole place reeks like an open sewer.”
“Yeah, but this sewer was my home,” Vladius replied, “and I know its layout like the back of my hand.  Something’s…missing.”
Grubber nodded, his eyes widening, “The Emporium!  It’s gone!”
Vladius’ eyes fixed on the spot the goliath indicated, and then quickly scanned the area around it.  “That’s not all,” he said quietly.  “Ondabar’s tower is gone as well.”
__________________________________________________

  As the group rode into town, every eye noted their passing, some with fear, others with hope, and still others with contempt and loathing.  The adventurers paid them no heed.  Their attention was fixed firmly ahead, on the town square and the scene of devastation there.  Zalamandra’s Emporium, once a fixture of Daggerford’s night-life and home to every sort of vice imaginable, as well as the region’s most amazing display of side-show freaks and entertainers, was simply not there.  It had been completely leveled into a pile of unrecognizable rubble.  In fact, every building along that side of the town square was either partially crushed or in some instances, melted.  Sections of the ground were scarred and barren, including a large black swath in the middle of the square.  Of Delfen Ondabar’s tower, not one stone was intact.  

“What happened here?” Grubber wondered aloud as he surveyed the devastation.  
“I don’t know,” Dwilt said, “but I think we’re about to find out.”  He nodded his head towards a group of soldiers, wearing tabards bearing the insignia of the Waterdhavian guard, who were approaching the team from the far side of the square.  As the soldiers approached, several of them showed startled recognition as they saw the faces of Grubber, Shay, Vladius and Grim.  Then, their eyes widened even more as they noted the badge of office worn by Senior Civilar Hawk.  
“Sir!” the ranking non-com said, saluting smartly.  The other soldiers stumbled in their attempt to follow suit.
“Who’s in charge here soldier?” Hawk snapped.
“Sir…er…” the man stammered, “that would be you, sir.”
“Where is Civilar Spearslayer?” Hawk demanded.  
“Dead sir,” the soldier replied.  “Killed in the attack.  We thought you were her replacement.”
“Attack?” Hawk asked.  “What attack?  What’s your name, armsman?  Tell me exactly what happened here, from the beginning.”
“Sir, my name is Pyle, sir!” the soldier came to attention, saluting again.  “Three days ago, sir, the town was attacked…by a dragon.   It was a monstrous, black devil, thirty-foot long if it was an inch!  The first thing it did was blast the wizard’s tower, then it moved on from there.  Once it reached the square, it started snatching up the wounded, threatening to kill them all if we didn’t tell it where Master Ondabar was.  It’d killed at least a dozen by the time Civilar Spearslayer arrived with a squad, accompanied by High Justice Valkus Dun.  The dragon barely gave them notice, sir.  It just burned the skin from their bones where they stood with its breath.  Acid it was, green and noisome.”
Grubber blanched at the news of Dun’s death, but perhaps it was a blessing, saving the old man from grief at the news of Gideon’s death.  
“Why was it looking for Ondabar?” Hawk asked.
“No one knows sir,” Pyle answered.  “But we had to tell it where to find him, sir.  We didn’t have no choice!  It was gonna level the whole town!”
“Calm down, soldier,” Hawk ordered.  “So you’re saying Ondabar wasn’t here during the attack?  Where was he?”
“That old tomb, sir,” Pyle said.  “The one your friends there found.”
“The Whispering Cairn?” Vladius asked.  “What was he doing up there?”
“Don’t know that either,” said Pyle, “but it was pretty common knowledge that he’d been spending a lot of time up their lately.  Sir…” he asked cautiously, “are you going after it?  The dragon I mean?”  
“It would appear that way, son,” Hawk sighed.  “Until I return, you’re in command, Civilar Pyle.”
“Yes sir!” Pyle clicked his heels together and snapped off another salute.  Vladius shook his head.  Better to leave Smenk in charge.
____________________________________________________

“It has to be Ilthane,” Hawk said as the group made their way along the winding trail leading up into the Forlorn Hills.  “What other black dragon do we know?”  
“But why would she be after Ondabar?” Grubber asked.  “He wasn’t with us when we invaded the Red Eye tribe.”
“Quite possibly she traced our connection back to him,” Hawk said.  “Wouldn’t be a very hard trail to follow.  After all, someone killed Dagsumn when they found out about his ties to us.  Being associated with us doesn’t seem to be the healthiest thing at the moment.”

The team passed the burned-out remains of an old mine office, and Vladius called a brief halt. 
“Used to be our old hide-out,” he said, nodding to the ruins.  “That is until old Smenk decided we were too much of a liability and decided he didn’t want any loose ends around.  Anyway, the Whispering Cairn just about a mile or so ahead.  We’d better prepare ourselves.”
The others nodded their agreement, and set about their preparations.  Knowing what he did about the nature of black dragons, Grubber thought it wise to use his prayers to grant the entire team some degree of protection from acid. Vladius, meanwhile, polymorphed himself into an avoral, a bird-like outsider capable of flight.  Once they were all ready, they continued on.  

The entrance to the Whispering Cairn was just like those who had been there before remembered it, a wide, monolith-lined portal partially obscured by underbrush and boulders, although much of the underbrush appeared to have been recently burned away.  Cautiously, they dismounted and approached the opening, eyes peeled and ears tuned for any sign of Ilthane.
 _________________________________________________________________

Ilthane watched the approach of the newcomers with interest.  After three days of waiting for the wizard to emerge from his bolt-hole, she was growing bored.  When her contacts in Starmantle had informed her of the demise of the Ebon Triad cult in Daggerford, and asked her to track down those responsible and their mentor Ondabar, she had jumped at the chance.  In fact, she had already planned on dealing with the interlopers for interfering with her plans for the Red Eye tribe.  The gold and magic promised to her by the Triad agents were almost an afterthought.  

She had had little trouble in ‘convincing’ the people of Daggerford to tell her of Ondabar’s whereabouts.  It was her intention to deal with the wizard first, and then move on to his underlings.  She had come to this tomb and lay in wait for him at nightfall, ambushing him when he’d emerged.  She had managed to gravely injure him, but the wily mage had escaped at the last back inside the cairn, and now she’d been forced to wait here for him to come back out, which he would surely have to do or starve to death.  

Yet now, it appeared that her wait was to be interrupted by a pleasant diversion.  How convenient for Ondabar’s lackeys to simply present themselves to her, for who else would come to this desolate place in such force, if not the wizard’s friends seeking to rescue their mentor?
__________________________________________________

A low rush of wind was the only warning the League had of the dragon’s approach.  From behind a low, wooded hill she swept in, opening her mouth and spewing forth a noxious, green stream of liquid, engulfing Grim, Storm and Havok in the blast.  The dragon grinned evilly, anticipating seeing three steaming pools of goo when the air cleared.  Her expression rapidly turned to one of confusion, and then anger when she instead saw her quarry still standing, and relatively unscathed.  “Dragotha take you!” she screamed, “The wizard is mine!”

Havok didn’t waste time trading threats with the dragon.  He’d been waiting for her to show herself, and now he unleashed the full fury of his eldritch blast.  Ilthane shrieked as the mystical energy scorched her hide, leaving great, raw rents in her flesh.  Before she could react, however, the air around her erupted with more magic, first in a roaring ball of fire, and then in a sizzling sphere of electricity.

Right on the heels of the attacks by Havok, Pyro and Storm, Hawk and Grim charged the dragon head-on, Hawk nimbly avoiding her snapping jaws as he closed in.  As she coiled her neck for another strike, the civilar drove his sword into her throat, willing its holy power to surge through its blade.  

With horrifying quickness, Ilthane found herself on the defensive…and losing.  Two warriors now flanked her, while the accursed spell-weavers thought themselves safely at distance where they could strike at her at their leisure.  She would have to dissuade them of that illusion.  Leaping into the air like a cat, she soared over the heads of the warriors, landing between Storm and Havok.  The drow quickly began to retreat, but Ilthane struck at her like a cobra, her razor-sharp teeth opening ghastly tears in the sorceress’ back.  The dragon then turned towards Havok, meaning to take out both of the arcanists simultaneously, but as her gaze fell on the warlock, she knew she’d been a split-second too late.  His hand glowed with crackling green energy, and he leveled it at her point-blank.  The last thing Ilthane saw in this life was the image of crawling worms.
__________________________________________________________

Giovanni stood over the fallen dragon, many thoughts going through his mind.  Foremost was the name she had called out…Dragotha.  He’d come across that name in his reading of the Apostolic Scrolls.  Dragotha had been the general of Kyuss’ armies, and he’d also been a dragon…an undead dragon.  Second to that thought, but no less important, was the fact that when he’d dealt the killing blow to the dragon, his energy blast was not the red he was accustomed to, but deep, emerald green…
___________________________________________________

The entrance to the Whispering Cairn was much as Grim, Grubber, Vladius and Shay remembered it.  Natural light dimly illuminated a long hallway extending north into darkness.  A faint breeze brought with it sibilant whispers that sounded almost like sighing breath. 
The walls bore horizontal bands of deceptively simple geometric patterns at waist level.  In places, the bands revealed startling detail, but in others the walls looked as though they had been hacked apart with weapons, or eroded by the rigors of time.  Flakes of ancient paint, brilliant purple and a dull mustard hue, still clung to the walls in places, hinting at what must once have been a riot of color.  A thin coat of dust coated the floor.
Just inside the darkened tomb, the hallway branched into shallow alcoves to the east and west.  Here, the walls bore the most significant damage.  Dozens of clumsy etchings marred the beautiful, ancient masonry like graffiti on a city wall.

One thing had definitely changed though.  When the original League had come here, a branching passage to the east had been completely blocked off by an apparent collapse.  Now, however, the passage stood open, its walls scarred and dented.  At the end of the tunnel stood a glossy black surface with a raised sphere in the center, like the boss in the center of a shield.  The surface resembled a heavily lacquered door.

“That certainly wasn’t here before,” Vladius said, now once more in his more familiar mephit form.
“It’s a portal,” Giovanni stated.  “A conduit linking one place to another.” 
“It’s evil,” Hawk said flatly.  “I can sense it.  Strong…it reeks of it.”
“Do you think Ondabar went through there?” Grubber asked dubiously.  “Shouldn’t we check the other parts of the tomb first?”
“We’ve seen everything in this place, top to bottom,” Vladius said, “and Delfen did too, once we told him about it.  Plus, Ironeater’s miners have been here removing all of those iron balls.  This is the only thing that’s new.  It has to be where he went.”
“It’s decided then,” Dwilt said.  “It’s as likely a place to start as any.”

The group arranged themselves behind Grim, who approached the glistening black portal with trepidation.  Reaching out one hand to touch the surface, he found that is was viscous rather than solid, like mud.  Drawing his hand back out, he found it clean and unharmed.  
“Well,” he shrugged, “no better way to find out than to just get to it.”  The dwarf then stepped forward, his body slowly submerging into the substance of the portal.  To his team mates behind him, it appeared as if Grim was stepping through quicksand.  Half his body was already through, yet it seem a slow transit.  To Grim, however, it was something else entirely.  As his face broke the surface of the portal, he found himself looking into a twilit nothingness…but he was not alone.  Standing directly before him, blocking any further progress, was an emaciated creature, with glowing red eyes, and a lolling, barbed tongue.  Wicked, filthy claws tipped its fingers and toes, and it reeked of death and decay.  Before Grim could fully register what he was seeing, the thing launched itself at him.

The other members of the League saw Grim suddenly begin to thrash and flail, still half-in and half-out of the portal.  
“He’s under attack!” Havok shouted, and blindly he fired a blast of eldritch heat into the blackness that surrounded the dwarf.  Hawk rushed to the dwarf’s side, struggling to pull his friend free of the black morass.  At that moment, what appeared to be claws made of pure darkness reached out of the conduit, and slashed the civilar, raking his throat and sending a great gout of blood spraying the corridor wall.  Staggering back, he collapsed against Grubber, blood still poring out of him.  Trying to remain calm, Grubber closed his hands over the wound and began a quick prayer.  As energy flowed from him into the civilar, the arterial spray slowed and died, the wound closing, but leaving an ugly scar behind.

Pyro needed a clear target.  Closing his eyes and touching them with the tips of two fingers, he began chanting a spell.  When he had finished, and opened his eyes, the portal seemed as clear as glass.  The Blindsight allowed him to see what was hidden, and now he could make out the ghoulish creature with which Grim struggled.  Suddenly, the creature grabbed the dwarf in a bear-hug embrace, and began raking at his stony hide with its claws.  
“Havok, I see it!” Pyro cried.  Before the warlock could protest, the wizard pressed both of his thumbs into Havok’s eyes, and uttered his spell again.  Instantly, Havok saw what Grim and Pyro saw.  Without hesitation, he fired a second eldritch blast at the monster, just as Grim flexed his prodigious biceps and broke free of the ghoul’s hold.  
“Dwilt,” Havok shouted, “aim low.  It’s right in front of Grim.  Trip it!”  The paladin didn’t doubt what his team mate was telling him.  He whipped his chain forward into the darkness and felt it connect with something solid.  He pulled mightily, felt a momentary resistance, and then the chain went slack.  

Grim grinned with satisfaction as the creature sprawled on its back in front of him.  Instantly, it tried to rise, but the mineral warrior hooked his axe behind its ankles, and sent it tumbling to the ground once more.  Snarling, the fiend began reaching for his legs, trying to bring him to the ground with it.  The dwarf jabbed the top of his axe at its face, rocking its head back, and pushing it momentarily away from him.  Still the thing would not relent.  It sprang to its feet, but this time when Grim tried to trip it, the creature instead snatched the shaft of his axe and pulled it towards him.  Momentarily, the dwarf was off balance, and the ghoul kicked his legs out from under him, sending him face-first to the ground before it.  In an instant it was on him, wrapping its arms around him from behind, and digging in its claws and teeth.

Pyro saw it all.  Grim was in trouble.  He needed an edge.  The mephit/mage quickly darted towards the prone legs of the dwarf, and reached out to touch him, mouthing the words to another spell all the while.  In a flash, the dwarf transformed.  Now, lying on the ground was no longer the mineral warrior, but instead the massive form of a troll!

“Hah!” Grim shouted.  “Now we’ll see who can wrestle!”  Dropping his axe, he rolled to his back and brought his own claws to bear, tearing into the fiend’s flesh as it continued to flail at him.  

“Now for my next trick,” Pyro said.  Another spell left his lips, and at its completion, the troll/Grim became covered in a thick layer of grease.  Within the portal, Grim slipped free of his opponent, reversing its grip and pulling it to the ground with him.  The pair rolled about in a whirling ball of teeth and claws, ripping and tearing at one another with savage ferocity.  Finally, with a shriek of rage, the ghoul broke free from Grim’s grasp and surged to its feet, standing over the prone dwarf.  As it raised its claws to rend its prey again, a bolt of green energy speared it through the heart, and it dissolved into nothingness with a final, wailing cry.


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

JD, thank you for writing again so soon...all of us would have understood, if you had taken a break! Perhaps writing was able to take your mind from the situation at hand a little.

Impressive, very impressive the way the party handled those two encounters! This group works together so well, it's almost frightening.


----------



## Joachim

Neverwinter Knight said:
			
		

> Impressive, very impressive the way the party handled those two encounters! This group works together so well, it's almost frightening.




Let's just say that the our teamwork last night was found somewhat more wanting, not to mention terrible dice-rolling (on at least my part), and we had a rough time of it.  The end result was 3 deaths in one encounter.  Brutal.


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

Joachim said:
			
		

> The end result was 3 deaths in one encounter.  Brutal.



Wow! But that is one tough module. Good thing you like creating characters!


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

It's a good thing there were plenty of X-men, Teen Mutants, Excalibur, X-Force, X-Factor, full and part time members.

I could be wrong, but we haven't seen:
Wolverine, Shadowcat, Cyclops, Jean Grey, Phoenix, Rogue, Professor X, Iceman, Beast, Polaris, Banshee, Thunderbird, Psylocke, Dazzler, Longshot, Jubilee, Forge, Gambit, etc.

GW


----------



## Krud

Out of curiosity do you remember how many rounds the black dragon lasted for? It sounds like the party managed to drop it very quickly. The ghoul seemed to put up more of a fight


----------



## gfunk

Krud said:
			
		

> Out of curiosity do you remember how many rounds the black dragon lasted for? It sounds like the party managed to drop it very quickly. The ghoul seemed to put up more of a fight




Black Dragon = 2-3 rounds
Abyssal Ghoul = 20+ rounds


----------



## Joachim

gfunk said:
			
		

> Black Dragon = 2-3 rounds
> Abyssal Ghoul = 20+ rounds




The black dragon was easy for us because it was wide open and we have 3 boomers and after round 1 it went from 250 +/- hps to less than 70.  Round 2, it made a mistake when it decided to land right next to me...I had to go full bear or risk eating one of its full attack actions (2nd Ed - Claw/Claw/Bite/Tail/Wing/Wing/Kick).

The ghoul was tough because we had no way to bring our arms to bear on it.   One of those difficult situations where we had to basically wait for Grim to kill it.


----------



## Krud

I know what you mean. Its so frustrating to have to sit around waiting for someone else to do the killing round after round. It all turned out ok in the end though. Blindsight seems to be a great spell thats seeing a lot of use. No darkness abuse yet  (By PCs anyway   )


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Thanks again for all the regular updates- makes your SH's very vibrant...


----------



## JollyDoc

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> Thanks again for all the regular updates- makes your SH's very vibrant...




Thanks!  I'll have another one up this weekend.


----------



## Neverwinter Knight

JollyDoc said:
			
		

> Thanks!  I'll have another one up this weekend.



 And it's not even Christmas, yet!


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Ahha! One more reason to look forward to the weekend


----------



## R-Hero

JollyDoc said:
			
		

> Thanks!  I'll have another one up this weekend.





Week-end is almost half over....
(tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock)


----------



## JollyDoc

R-Hero said:
			
		

> Week-end is almost half over....
> (tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock)




It ain't over till the salamander sings...

AVENGERS DISASSEMBLED

As Grubber tended Grim’s wounds, Dwilt stepped to the portal, and then turned back to his team mates.  “I’ll go first this time.  Each of you follow me as quickly as possible.  There’s no telling what’s on the other side of this thing.”

The former civilar then stepped into the black morass and disappeared.  Upon emerging on the other side, Dwilt found himself in a sharply sloped hallway filled with rushing, screaming wind and smoke.  Small, hollow projections lining the walls seemed to be making the noise, but it was obvious that air inside the passage was being pushed out at an unusual rate.  Dwilt could not hear a thing over the howling wind, and the tiny particles of grit being blown into his eyes severely limited his visibility.  Suddenly, a mass of darks smoke moved against the wind, shifting shape as it came closer.  Cloudlike, roiling, it abruptly exploded into a demonic creature of smoke and wind, with large, bat wings, clawed tendrils, and a biting maw.  Dwilt reeled back against a nearby wall as the thing slashed at him, swinging his chain blindly to ward off the fiend.

Just then, the portal began to ripple as Grim stepped through.  No sooner had the dwarf completed the transition, than a second smoke demon appeared, catching the mineral warrior off-guard and putting him immediately on the defensive.  Dwilt and Grim hacked and struck wildly at the creatures, the momentum of their melee carrying them further down the hall.  The portal shimmered again, and Grubber appeared, only to be immediately assaulted by a third creature.  

One by one the members of the League continued to cross over via the portal, oblivious to the life-or-death struggle their comrades waged on the other side.  Each in turn was attacked as soon as they stepped free of the portal.  Only Storm and Shay still remained in the Whispering Cairn, and at least ten of the hideous creatures now swarmed about the others.  At one point Pyro found himself caught between two of the fiends…belkers he thought, evil creatures native to the Plane of Air.  From what little he knew of them, they were reclusive by nature, having little interest in the affairs of others.  He could not imagine what so many were doing in a single place.  Perhaps the Wind Dukes used them as tomb guardians?  Whatever the case, they certainly were not about to be reasoned with.  To make matters worse, as Pyro prepared to bring his magic to bear against them, he found the words to his spells ripped from his lips by the scathing winds.  Still in mephit form, he struggled to put some distance between himself and his attackers, but they were too fast.  The wizard knew that if he didn’t think of something quickly, he was not going to last long.  Finally, concentrating with all his will, he managed to scream out one arcane word, and vanished as the Teleportation spell took him.  Only at the last moment did he even consider that he didn’t actually know how far away the Whispering Cairn was.  Though it seemed like the portal had only transported them a few feet from their prior position, Pyro knew the distance was probably vast.  His spell was only capable of transporting him nine-hundred miles.  If the cairn was further than that, this was going to be a one-way trip.

Shay waited impatiently as Storm finally stepped through the portal.  It was about time.  He was sick of waiting, and eager to get out of the creepy tomb.  However, just as he was reaching out to enter the portal himself, a very familiar looking mephit appeared out of thin air behind him, looking battered and bloody.  
“Stop!” Pyro wheezed.  “We’re under attack on the other side.  I barely escaped with my life.”
“Where are the others?” Shay asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Still there,” Pyro said, “fighting off a swarm of elementals.”
“But not you,” Shay said accusingly.  “Here you are, safe and sound, while our friends may be dieing as we speak.”  The rogue shook his head in disgust, and then turned towards the portal again.  “And they call me craven.”

Just as Pyro had warned, battle raged around Shay as he passed through the conduit.  Immediately to his right, Storm was being assailed by a large, demonic looking creature.  The others seemed to be holding their own, and several of the monsters lay unmoving on the floor of the passage.  Shay immediately drew his rapier, and began stabbing at Storm’s attacker.  As the belker turned towards its new opponent, Storm did the only thing she could, since she could not focus enough to cast her spells.  She drew out her crossbow, loaded it, and began firing.

The melee dragged on for several long minutes, but ultimately, the belkers were killed to a creature, and the League members took a moment to catch their breath and regroup.  Storm was the most badly wounded, and Hawk laid his hands gently on her injuries, holy energy flowing from him and healing the worst of her hurts.  After a few moments, a much hailer-looking Pyro poked his head back through the portal.
“All clear?” the mephit shouted into the howling wind.  Abruptly, his words were choked off as Grim seized him by the throat and yanked him through.
________________________________________________________

The wind-filled passageway ended after about fifty feet, and the chamber beyond it was blissfully quiet.  The tall room looked like some sort of temple.  Carved stone pillars reached up to the ceiling in elegant lines, but strange clusters of spikes stuck up from the floor in two distinct areas, like barricades.  Near sets of doors to the north, south and east stood carved stone images of tall, elongated humanoid forms.  A series of small openings, each about one inch in diameter, festooned the walls between these forms.  Beneath the openings were small basins, each about the size of an apple.  Strange undulations made the doors and nearby walls seem more like a curtain than a level surface.  Twisting runes wound over the walls.  The floor was carved with channels, as if to transport water, but nothing now flowed there.

Cautiously, Shay held up one hand, motioning for the others to wait.  He had a feeling for these sorts of things, and at that moment, it was warning him of danger.  Slowly, he stepped into the temple, looking warily at the spiky barricade to his right.  Kneeling down in front of it, he began running his fingers lightly over the flagstones.  Ah…there it was, just as he suspected…a pressure sensitive stone.  Unfortunately, even the minute amount of pressure he had placed on it by touching it caused the trigger to depress.  Instantly, a blast of hurricane-like wind struck the rogue, hurling him against the barbed spikes of the barrier, ripping a hundred tiny gashes into his skin.  Just as quickly as it started, the wind vanished, and Shay dropped painfully to the floor.  
“Watch your step here,” he moaned.  “It’s a trap.”

Grubber tended Shay’s wounds, and the rogue resolved to venture into the chamber a second time, only this time, Grim accompanied him, ready to seize the skinny human and drag him out of harm’s way if necessary.  Slowly, the pair made their way around the perimeter of the large hall.  Shay found two more pressure plates on opposite sides of the second barricade, but managed to avoid triggering both, though it was beyond even his skill to disarm the traps.  Before each set of doors in the room was another trap of sorts.  When triggered (as Shay found out unintentionally), the small basins lining the walls near the door would generate a plume of white fog-like vapor, which would then run up along and meld with the bas-relief carvings on the wall, generating a fluid image.  The first one was of a regal-appearing Wind Duke engaged in battle against multiple creatures of chaos.  Unfortunately, the vapors themselves were poisonous.  Shay managed to avoid their effects by Grim’s timely intervention.  The dwarf’s own sturdy constitution seemed to render him immune to the gas.  Two other images were displayed around the other doors:  one of the same Wind Duke forming some sort of alliance with a large, armored behemoth, and the other of the Wind Duke holding a large square seal in one hand, and a long rod or staff in the other, as if displaying them to the viewer.  

Shay informed the rest of his team mates where it was safe to walk within the chamber, and they crossed to the doors directly across from them, in the east wall.  Beyond was a short passage terminating at another set of double-doors, with identical sets in the walls to the right and left.  The eastern and southern doors proved to be false, opening only onto blank walls.  On the other side of the northern doors, however, was a long hall containing twin sets of pillars leading to another set of double doors at the far end.  The columns were made of marble blocks shaped like drums.  Not all of them had aged quite the same, and their colors ranged from gray to white to tan.

Vladius, Giovanni and Storm remained in the temple chamber while the others stood in the hall outside the columned chamber.  Once again, Grim and Shay were elected to scout ahead, with Grim walking down the right hand side of the hall, and Shay taking the left.  No sooner had the mineral warrior stepped into the room, than a rumbling sounded from the pillar next to him, and the entire structure collapsed towards him.  Grim quickly raised his tower shield above his head, deflecting most of the falling rubble.  Across the room, he heard another of the pillars collapse and saw Shay duck and roll deftly out of the way of the debris.  
“This whole place is a death trap,” the dwarf muttered as he brushed dust off his armor.

“Everything ok down there?” Pyro called as he peered down the darkened corridor.
“Just Shay and Grim having a little fun!” Dwilt answered.
“That’s exactly the reason I stay back here, where it’s safe,” the wizard said quietly to Storm and Havok.  
At that moment, a flicker of movement caught the corner of Pyro’s vision.  As he turned towards it, he saw of mass of shadows directly behind him seem to roil and churn of their own volition.  Materializing out of the darkness was one of the biggest spiders he’d ever seen!  Before the wizard could do more than gasp, the huge arachnid had seized him in one of its fore claws.  

Grubber and Dwilt turned towards the sounds of the shouting coming from the temple chamber.  
“Time to stop fooling around in there,” he barked at Shay and Grim, who had just extricated himself from yet another rubble pile of a collapsed column.  “We’ve got company!”
The two then charged back towards their comrades, Grubber in the lead.  When the goliath saw the spider, he didn’t even break stride, instead raising his hammer, and lunging ahead.  At the last moment, the spider scuttled to one side with amazing agility, and Grubber’s maul struck only stone.  For his part, Dwilt had the insane idea that he might be able to trip the arachnid.  Whirling his chain above his head, he snapped it around one of the spider’s legs, and pulled with all his might.  He might as well have been trying to pull a Tarasque.  The spider pulled back, almost gently, yet Dwilt was yanked off his feet, falling prone at the monster’s feet.

Storm quickly moved away from the spider’s impressive reach.  Pragmatic she may have been, but never cowardly.  Chanting as she moved, she conjured a viscous orb of green acid in her hand, and hurled it at the arachnid.  The creature shrieked as the caustic fluid ate into its carapace.  

Havok knew that if he did not act, Pyro was as good as dead.  Grim and Hawk were on the way, but they wouldn’t make it in time if the spider simply decided to decapitate the wizard.  In desperation, the warlock darted forward and grabbed Pyro’s flailing hand.  Closing his eyes, he pictured the hallway outside the columned room, and when he opened them again, he and the mage stood side by side, safely away from the melee.
“Seems I might owe you one,” Pyro rasped.
“One?”  Havok laughed, “You apparently haven’t been keeping count.  We’ll discuss my retainer later.”

By this time, Grim and Hawk had reached the chamber, and both of them immediately rushed the spider.  However, as Hawk got within reach, he was abruptly snatched into the air by a massive claw.  Grim kept going, brutally ripping at the monster’s hide with his axe.  The spider hissed and spat, dropping Hawk to the floor as it backed away from its attacker.  The civilar rolled to his feet, and he and the dwarf closed the distance with the arachnid, pressing their advantage.  Abruptly, darkness swirled around the beast, and as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished.

Dwilt climbed painfully to his feet.  “If your friend Ondabar came through here,” he said to Vladius, “he must be an archmage.  I fear we may not like what we find when we finally discover his location.”

The doors at the opposite end of the columned hall were another dead-end, as was the northern door in the temple chamber.  The southern door, however, led to a long hallway, which bisected another about thirty feet down.  The intersection was lit by six flickering orange and yellow lanterns, which floated around a central statue of grey stone.  The statue depicted an androgynous Wind Duke wearing robes that seemed to be stirred by a breeze.  The figure may have been a symbol of justice or war, for it held a glittering sword outstretched in one hand and carried a balance in the other.  

Once more, the team had formed up behind Grim, and he began leading the way down the corridor.  He had gone no more than ten paces, when a deafening burst of sound swept through the passage.
______________________________________________________________

Antyress Redpike, the Earl of Coalchester, was bored…bored beyond imagining.  He had spent nearly a century in this room, staring at the same four walls with nothing to do for entertainment, and no one to talk to save for Smoughed and Scrisped, who were not the best conversationalists.  The salamander’s clan had been bound by ancient elemental vows ages ago to serve the Wind Dukes as tomb guardians, and Antyress’ tenure was only half over.  Bored, he thought again.  Bored, bored, bored.  That was when he heard the triggering of the Dictum.  
“The Word of Law,” he said almost in disbelief.  How long had it been since tomb raiders had actually entered this place?  Certainly not during his time here.  Well, well, he thought gleefully, clapping his hands, a diversion after all!
“Smoughed, Scrisped,” he said to the towering elementals.  “Go and greet our guests.  Tell them I would like to speak with them.”
_______________________________________________________

Grim, Shay, Dwilt, Grubber, and Vladius were still reeling from the effects of the Dictum.  The spell had rendered them all deaf, and slowed their reaction time to the point where it was an effort just to move.  At that moment, a towering, walking column of flame appeared at the intersection, peering around the corner at the League.  Storm, still in the temple room, saw it first, recognized the fire elemental for what it was.  Thinking quickly, she created a storm of ice and sleet around the creature, and its hide began to hiss and steam where the hail stones struck it.  

Hawk had not been affected by the Dictum, and he wasted no time in moving past his afflicted friends, straight towards the elemental while it was distracted by the ice storm.  Unsure if mere weapons of steel would affect such a creature, he nevertheless plunged his sword into the flaming behemoth, unleashing a surge of electricity through the blade as he did so.  To his surprise and satisfaction, the elemental reeled and roared in pain.  

Grubber, though deaf, was not affected by the slowing effect of the Dictum, due to his Grumbar-granted power to always move unhindered as long as his feet touched the earth.  Rushing to Hawk’s aid, he suddenly found himself flat on his back as his feet slipped on a slick spot on the floor.  As he struggled to regain his feet, the elemental smashed one of its tree-trunk sized arms down upon him.  When the flaming appendage struck him, the goliath was horrified to see that his clothes caught fire!
________________________________________________________

This was no good, Redpike hissed in frustration.  He had wanted to talk with these intruders, toy with them a bit before it came to blows.  Ah, but with these adventurer types it was always sword first, words later.  So be it then.  “Kill them all,” he ordered the elementals in their native tongue.  Then acting on his own instructions, he summoned a small, flaming ball into his right hand, and tossed it into the intersection.
________________________________________________________

The fireball erupted like an inferno around Hawk, Grubber and Grim, scorching their skin and hair.  Havok, seeing the danger his friends were in, sent a pulsating green blast of eldritch energy at the fire elemental, momentarily turning its flaming form from crimson to emerald.

Just then, a second fire elemental appeared in the hallway, stepping past its cohort and blocking off the other side of the intersection.  Hawk swung at the creature as it passed, but it countered with a hammer-blow of its own, setting the civilar’s cloak and tabard aflame.

Pyro cursed the luck they were having.  Not only did they have to face not one, but two huge fire elementals, but they had to do it deafened and with their main fighting force crippled.  Quickly, the wizard began calling to mind the words of a spell, but he found that in his deafened state, he had trouble correctly pronouncing the delicate inflections.  Luckily, he was close enough, and the Force Ball he lobbed into the intersection erupted with very satisfying results as the first elemental went down.

Grubber attempted to regain his feet once again, but again he was struck, this time by the second elemental.  As the goliath collapsed to the floor this time, he did not rise again.  Grim glanced over at his friend and saw his chest moving.  The priest yet lived…for the moment.  However, as a second fireball engulfed the hallway, it was clear to the mineral warrior that his friend was beyond any hope of aid.

Havok couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  Grubber was down, probably dead.  Grim and Dwilt were all but incapacitated.  Whoever was controlling the elementals had them right where he wanted them.  Once more the warlock unleashed his eldritch fire.  Behind him, Storm lobbed a crackling sphere of electricity.  Both energies struck the elemental simultaneously, sending green lightning cascading through its body.

The elemental thrashed and swatted at the fire which surged through it.  Enraged, it lashed out at Hawk.  The civilar batted aside its first blow, but on the next strike, the behemoth seized him in a powerful fiery grip, lifting him bodily from the floor.  In vain Hawk struggled to break free of the grapple, all the while with Grim hammering at the elemental from below.  Suddenly, another blast of green fire blasted a hole through the elemental’s head, and it collapsed to the floor in a smoldering pile of ash.

“See to those burns,” Grim said to the civilar as he stumbled past, still deaf and disoriented, but committed to confronting the master of the elementals.  As he rounded the corner, he saw his foe.  The being had a muscular humanoid upper body with a hawkish face.  Its lower body, however, was serpentine from the waist down and was covered in red and black scales.  Flame-shaped spines sprouted from its back, arms and head, and a glowing, red-hot iron spear was gripped in its hands.
“You must flee,” the creature said.  “I am the Earl of Coalchester, and I am compelled by foul magic to kill you.  Leave now and I shall not follow.  I can’t be held responsible for what might happen should you stay.”
“You want to see compelled,” Pyro snapped as he flitted to a position just above Grim’s shoulder.  “Watch me compel you to turn into a cockroach!”  As the wizard hurled the magic towards the salamander, Redpike actually flinched, but as the spell passed harmlessly around him, he grinned even broader.  
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he smirked.  With a casual wave of his hand, the Earl of Coalchester conjured up a roaring wall of red flames catching Shay, Grim and Havok directly in its eruption.  Dwilt, Storm and Hawk were caught on the other side of the fire wall, but the heat from it still scalded them, even from a distance twenty feet away.
“Two can play that game!” Pyro snarled, and flapping back several feet from the wall, he sent a helical cone of ice through the flames, where it snuffed out a large hole in the wall, and continued on to strike the salamander.  Redpike howled as the ice burned his sensitive skin like the fire he wielded.

Enraged, the Earl slithered out of his chambers and into the hall, closing rapidly on the tomb robbers.  Before Pyro could fly to the ceiling and out of harm’s way, the massive spear wielded by the salamander pierced him through the abdomen.  In desperation, the mephit/wizard conjured a grease spell on the longspear, hoping to make the elemental lose his grip.  Redpike merely laughed however, then lunged forward with his pike, impaling Pyro against the wall.  When he withdrew the spear from the mage’s limp form, Pyro slid bonelessly to the floor, assuming his natural form as he went.

Suddenly, a length of spiked chain wrapped around Redpike’s spear shaft, and jerked at it, trying to rip it from his grasp.  The salamander cursed, pulling the weapon back into his grip.  Dwilt’s eyes went wide as the spear head rushed towards him, piercing him three times in the chest.  Then everything went dark as a vicious slap from Redpike’s tail sent the paladin to the ground.

Hawk’s eyes went as cold as death.  Shield up, and sword in hand he stalked towards the Earl.  Redpike’s grinning jaw went slack as he saw the determination in the civilar.  Quickly, he conjured another fire wall, sealing over the hole the wizard had made in the previous one, but to his utter amazement, the human walked right through, ignoring his pain, though it was obvious his skin had been blistered.  
“From Hell’s gate I stab at thee!” Hawk hissed, and then he charged, driving his blade deep into Redpike’s gut, calling upon the divine might of Torm to smite his enemy.  Again and again he struck until finally the Earl's  spear slipped from his nerveless fingers as his guardianship finally came to and end.


----------



## gfunk

Nice title JD, I like it!

Dwilt rolled a very impressive 41 on his disarm check which the bloody Noble Salamander matched!!  He won due to his greater Str though.

So, here's the deal.  I'm out of gaming for a week and was thinking about a new PC.  I'm willing to take suggestions from readers -- live vicariously through Gfunk!  Let me know what you want to see!


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## Joachim

I want to see you make a druid.  I keep hearing how powerful they are, but I've never seen a good example in action.  Prove it to me.


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## JollyDoc

Joachim said:
			
		

> I want to see you make a druid.  I keep hearing how powerful they are, but I've never seen a good example in action.  Prove it to me.




And there actually is a Marvel character named Dr. Druid.  Sweet!


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## Joachim

That's pretty funny.  I was thinking about the kid from the new Justice League cartoons that can turn into different animals, but that works too.

Seriously, the whole time that we have played (8 years), we have seen one druid PC, and that one was not a great example.  Consistently over at the Optimization boards at TSR, druids are perceived to be the most powerful class, but I have never been convinced.  They have a nice spell list, but they seem to fall into that category of "jack of all trades, but master of none."


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## Neverwinter Knight

Ouch! Nasty business, that. And to think that it might not even have been necessary to figth here... 

I think the party needs another tank. Maybe something with the half-dragon or the Worm Hunter template.


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## LordVyreth

Noble Salamanders are a lot more brutal than their level would suggest.  I once took out 2 17th level PCs with an attack force that included a lot of them, and it took an act of mercy on my part to spare the third.


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## JollyDoc

Teaser for tonight's game and next week's post:  Permanent farewells are given to two party members.  One returns from the dead.  New blood joins the League.  The League returns to the tomb, but their luck is all bad.  One more dies, while another knocks at Death's door.


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## Joachim

_Revivify_ is your friend.


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## Richard Rawen

I think I'll second (third?) the idea of Druid.  Yes the party needs more Tank, however the summons and shape-shifts should fill this gap somewhat.  Plus the added healing (assuming Grubber comes back) and buffs will be welcome in any fight.  Druids have some really nice utility and direct damage spells too.
Plus, I've only played one (NPC I DM'd) in years and she was only 11th when she parted ways with the party due to philosophical differences... 

Great story btw, enjoying the Marvelous characters!

If not a druid then perhaps something akin to my all time fav character (although not Marvel):
The Tick!  (I would just love to see what the community came up with for stats on him   )

Blessings and Merry Christmas to you all,
Richard
M < > <


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## CrusadeDave

gfunk said:
			
		

> Nice title JD, I like it!
> So, here's the deal.  I'm out of gaming for a week and was thinking about a new PC.  I'm willing to take suggestions from readers -- live vicariously through Gfunk!  Let me know what you want to see!




How about a Female Spellthief named Rogue?


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## A'vandira Silvermane

JollyDoc said:
			
		

> Please forgive my lack of updates this week.  My father died unexpectedly yesterday, and I have been, and will be busy tying up some loose ends.  Hope to be back on track soon.




Sorry to hear it JD. Only returned to this site today (Illness and vacation causing Internet absence) and just read about your loss. My condolences, belated though they may be.


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## Richard Rawen

Quote:
Originally Posted by JollyDoc
Please forgive my lack of updates this week. My father died unexpectedly yesterday, and I have been, and will be busy tying up some loose ends. Hope to be back on track soon.




			
				A'vandira Silvermane said:
			
		

> Sorry to hear it JD. Only returned to this site today (Illness and vacation causing Internet absence) and just read about your loss. My condolences, belated though they may be.




I must apologize for missing this, and more to the point offer my heartfelt condolences and prayers for you and your family.
Blessings and Prayers,
Richard
M < > <


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## JollyDoc

Thank you all for your condolences.  My memories of my dad are a rather mixed bag, but one pertinent memory is of him sitting down to learn the rules of a game I had taken an interest in as a sixth grader in 1980...that game was 1st ed. Dungeons and Dragons, so here's to my dad...my first Dungeon Master.


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## A'vandira Silvermane

Absent companions - may they game forever in the hereafter


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## gfunk

Please note that this character has yet to be approved by JD, so it is subject to change without notice.  

I toyed around with several builds including a druid, wizard, psychic warrior, barbarian/frenzied beserker, etc. but this was the only one I thought I would enjoy playing.

*Faust "Holocaust" Cenodoxus (Kineticist 10)*
----------------------------------------------------------------------

*Medium Abberation (Elan)*
*Hit Dice:* 10d4+30+12 (79 hp)
*Initiative:* +0
*Speed:* Move 30' (6 squares)
*Armor Class:* 10, 10 touch, 10 flat-footed
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +5/+3
*Attack:* None to speak of
*Full Attack:* See _Attack_
*Space/Reach:* 5 feet/5 feet
*Special Attacks:* Psionics
*Special Qualities:* Naturally Psionic, Resistance, Resilience, Repletion
*Saves:* Fort +9, Ref +6, Will +12
*Abilities:* Str 8, Dex 10, Con 16, Int 24, Wis 14, Cha 6
*Skills:* Autohypnosis +15, Concetration +26, Intimidate +11, Knowledge (Arcana) +20, Knowledge (Dungeoneering) +20, Knowledge (Nature) +20, Knowledge (The Planes), +20, Knowledge (Religion) +20, Psicraft +20
*Feats:* Noncombatant (Flaw), Psionic Endowment, Greater Psionic Endowment, Power Penetration, Greater Power Penetration, Psionic Meditation, Psionic Body, Overchannel, Expanded Knowledge (Metamorphosis)
*Environment:* Urban
*Organization:* Solitary or Murder (Joachim, Ika et al)
*Challenge Rating:* 10
*Treasure:* Goods
*Alignment:* True Neutral

_Not only is this creature hideous to behold with a misshapen head and disgusting odor, but his personality is equally toxic. Full of sarcasm and pent-up rage, he acts more like cantankerous senior citizen than a young adventurer._

Faust was born in DR 963 (The Year of the Deadly Duo) in Waterdeep. Incidentally, his birth marked the beginning of construction of Waterdeep castle, making Faust approximately 400  years old though he has long since stopped counting. He would have lived a normal, happy mortal lifespan were it not for his dark experiments using psionic energy.

Psionics was virtually unknown in Faerun at the time and this ignorance compelled Faust to plunge headlong into its depths. A miscalculation in one particular experiment resulted in his consciousness merging with a strange group of aberrations known as Elans. Sadly, this meant the demise of his mortal shell.

Elans, it seemed, had existed for millennia in a Dreamscape of sorts with a shared memory stretching back to the fall of the mighty Netherese. The origins of their species and their current inability to reproduce, however, was lost to the ages. Therefore, Elan psyches were periodically "reincarnated" in human shells only to die and re-enter the collective.

Faust had been through this process several times already, learning (painfully) that suicide simply sent him back to be re-embodied once more. Not surprisingly, he had become a bitter individual wishing only to return to oblivion and finally recognized the futility of it all. 

His only joy in life comes in sending others to the afterlife that has been denied to him. 

One of the benefits of near immortality, of course, is vast accumulated knowledge which led Faust to discover the imminence of the Age of Worms. If the whole world were to be destroyed, then he would be nothing but a drone in the vast Elan consciousness without even a mortal body to alleviate his boredom and pass the time.

He was damned if he was going to let that happen . . .

*COMBAT*

Faust's Elan heritage gives him a vast array of offensive and defensive powers. He is possessive of his current mortal shell, repugnant as it may be, and tries to preserve it if possible. He always carries a torch to manifest a _fiery discorporation_ to prevent returning to the Elan mental collective prematurely.

His nickname Holocaust was earned not only for his ability to deal out ridiculous amounts of damage via diverse energy types but his flippant disregard for other sentient beings. 

_"If they only knew how worthless their short, miserable lives are they wouldn't mind me expediting their passage to Celestia or some other stupid Plane." - Faust Cenodoxus_

*Naturally Psionic*: Faust gain 2 bonus power points at 1st level. This benefit does not grant him the ability to manifest powers unless they gain that ability through another source, such as levels in a psionic class.

*Resistance (Su)*: Faust can use psionic energy to increase his resistance to various forms of attack. As an immediate action, he can spend 1 power point to gain a +4 racial bonus on saving throws until the beginning of his next action.

*Resilience (Su)*: When Faust takes damage, he can spend power points to reduce its severity. As an immediate action, he can reduce the damage he is about to take by 2 hit points for every 1 power point he spends.

*Repletion (Su)*: Faust can sustain his body without need of food or water. If he spends 1 power point, Faust does not need to eat or drink for 24 hours.

*Psioncs (Sp)*: Faust has a power point pool of 125. His DC to resist powers is 17 + power level (subject to augmentation) (18 + power level for psychokinetic powers)

_*1st*:Inertial Armor, Vigor, Precognition Defensive, Crystal Shard, Catfall

*2nd*:Energy Missile, Energy Push, Cloud Mind, Ego Whip

*3rd*:Energy Cone, Energy Wall, Dispel Psionics, Touchsight

*4th*:Control Body, Energy Ball, Dimension Door (Psi), Energy Adaptation, Metamorphosis

*5th*:Fiery Discorporation, Power Resistance, Plane Shift (Psi), Energy Current_

*EQUIPMENT*

_Headband of Intellect +4, Gloves of Health +2, Psionatrix of Psychokinesis, Third Eye of Concentration, Cloak of Resistance +2, 2000 gp_


----------



## JollyDoc

Merry Christmas...

COMES THE CRUSADER

Grim, Hawk, Shay, Giovanni and Storm stood in a loose circle, staring mutely at the tableau before them.  Three…almost half their number…lay dead at their feet.  It had happened so fast, a matter of moments really.  True, the salamander and his elementals also perished, but at what cost, and for what purpose.  They were no closer to finding Ondabar than they had been before…further really, for the effort would be more difficult and dangerous without the invaluable aid and companionship of their fallen friends.  

“We need to regroup,” Hawk finally spoke.  The others looked at him, but did not disagree.  “We’re spent for now.  If we continue on in our current condition, none of us will leave this place alive.  That won’t help us or Ondabar…nor will it honor our fallen.  Bring them.”  
Silently, Grim bent and lifted Grubber easily across his shoulders.  Giovanni and Shay carried Vladius, and Hawk cradled Dwilt, his brother-in-arms, on his final journey.  

They retraced their steps through the temple and the howling passage beyond to the black portal.  One by one they passed through, emerging once more inside the Whispering Cairn.  When they stepped outside the tomb, the sun was still shining.  Barely an hour had passed since they’d entered, yet it seemed like a lifetime.  The corpse of Ilthane lay where she fell.  As the others strapped their dead to their horses, Giovanni walked deliberately over to the dragon.  Kneeling, he produced a thin beam of green energy from his finger, and began slicing through the wyrm’s neck with it.  Within a few moments, he had beheaded the beast.  Tying a length of rope around the dragon’s head, he attached the other end to his saddle horn, mounted his horse, and set out after his companions, dragging his gruesome trophy along behind. 
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Drasek Dundragon rode along the mountain trail, deep in his own thoughts.  He had only just arrived in Daggerford this morning, but already he had more questions than answers.  His superiors in Baldur’s Gate had sent him to the frontier town after receiving word of a necromancer operating in the area.  The church of Kelemvor took such rumors very seriously, and when a representative from the Cult of the Ascended Lovers in Daggerford had come to the temple in Baldur’s Gate, the clergy had acted in, what was for the typical bureaucracy, a more or less timely fashion.  They had dispatched Drasek as an official Inquisitor into the matter.  However, upon his arrival in the village, he had found it partially destroyed, by a dragon attack of all things.  When he had questioned the local constable, a singularly unhelpful man named Cubbin, he had been directed to the garrison.  The so-called garrison commander was a pimply-faced adolescent named Pyle.  He had given Drasek the details of the attack, and then told him of a band of local adventurers who had gone in search of the dragon.  Curious though he was about the wyrm, it was not his primary reason for coming to the fly speck town.  He inquired about the necromancer, and Pyle informed him that indeed such an individual had taken up residence in an old, abandoned observatory some two months back.  However, that worthy had been dealt with by the same band of adventurers.  The ‘commander’ then informed him that there had been some sightings recently of ‘walking corpses’ in the nearby hills…again, the hills into which the adventurers had gone.  So, it seemed if Drasek wanted any real answers, he was going to have to go in search of this band.  He only hoped they had already dealt with the dragon, or this was going to be a one-way trip.

As he rounded a sharp bend in the trail, Drasek came to an abrupt halt.  Ahead on the path, coming his way, was a mounted band.  One was a dwarf, though he appeared much bulkier than any dwarf Drasek had ever met.  Three appeared to be human, though one was darker of skin, like a Calishite.  The last was an elven woman, though Drasek knew immediately that she wore an illusion about her.  Concentrating on her face, he saw through the veil, noting with surprise that she was a drow!  Immediately, he concentrated again, trying to sense an aura of evil about any of the group, finding none.  Three pack horses trailed behind the group, with wrapped bundles across their saddles which looked suspiciously like bodies.  One of the humans had a rope tied to his saddle pommel and its other end was attached to a severed dragon head!  This then must be the group he was seeking, though it seemed they had met with misfortune in their quest.

Hawk drew the company up short as he spotted the rider on the trail below them.  The man was dressed in gleaming mail and wore a dark cloak draped over his shoulders.  A large hammer was strapped to his back, and he bore a shield on his left arm.  Squinting his eyes at the insignia emblazoned on the shield, Hawk knew it to be that of Kelemvor, protector of the dead.  The only Kelemvorites in these parts were the cultists who kept the Daggerford Boneyard, and they usually went about in green robes, chanting to themselves.  This fellow certainly wasn’t one of them.  

“Well met,” Drasek said, raising is right hand palm-up.  “You appear to be in need of assistance.”
“Who are you?” Hawk asked, suspicion in his voice.
Drasek could see that the man wore the insignia of an officer of Waterdeep, and that he also bore a symbol of Torm.  A man of honor then.  “I am Drasek Dundragon,” he replied, “Inquisitor of the church of Kelemvor in Baldur’s Gate.  I am seeking a group of individuals known as the League.”
“You’ve found them,” Hawk said.  “What is it that you want from us?”
“I was sent to investigate claims of a necromancer operating in this area.  I was informed that your group was responsible for removing his presence.  I was also informed that you might have knowledge about increased sightings of undead of late.  As you may know, Kelemvor considers the undead an abomination, and dictates their destruction whenever found.”
Hawk nodded.  “You are speaking of the necromancer Filge.  My colleagues did indeed remove his threat some months back, before I joined them.  The undead you mention are another story entirely…a long one not meant for the road.  As you can see, three of our number have fallen.  We came in search of an ally and mentor who was investigating an ancient cairn nearby.  It seems a dragon of our acquaintance was also looking for him.  The dragon we dealt with,” he gestured towards the grisly trophy.  “However, once we entered the cairn, we found a previously unexplored section that we believe our friend was searching.  The tomb, it would seem, is not as abandoned as we thought.  Ancient guardians still remain, and it was one of these, an elemental lord from the Plane of Fire, that laid our team mates low.  We defeated him, but at great cost.  We are returning now to Daggerford to put our friends to rest…or at least two of them.”
“Two?” Drasek asked.  “I thought you said three fell.”
“So they did, but we have all made our wishes known to one another should we fall in battle.  Dwilt Riddick, and the wizard Vladius were very clear that should they depart this world, the wished their souls be allowed to travel on.  The priest, Grubber, however had received a premonition from his god Grumbar, that his work in this life was far from finished.  It is he that we wish to return to the living.”
“Then you do need my help,” Drasek said.  “I can oversee the interment of the two, and the third…I can restore him.  Kelemvor teaches that those who depart before their time should be allowed to come again to this life.  I will accompany you to Daggerford and speak with my fellows in the Cult of the Ascended Lovers.”
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The rag-tag band entered Daggerford at noon and proceeded directly to the center of town, where repairs were already underway on the ruined businesses and dwellings there.  All work came to an abrupt stop, however, when the League and Drasek entered the commons.  Several garrison soldiers were present, overseeing security for the construction crews, and among them was Pyle.  As the commander hustled over, Giovanni hefted Ilthane’s head and tossed it at the soldier’s feet.  
“Mount it on a pike on the town wall,” the warlock said.  “It was won at much cost.”  By this time, quite a crowd was gathering around the adventurers, and many gasps met the sight of the remains of the dragon.
“Sir,” Pyle stammered, saluting Hawk, “what are your orders?”
The civilar looked down at him.  “My orders stand, commander.  We have unfinished business at the Whispering Cairn, but first, we have friends to bury.”
Abruptly, Hawk spurred his mount and he and his fellows started out of the square, towards the Boneyard on the edge of town.  Pyle rushed over to the other gaping soldiers, ordering them to mount up, and then hurrying to assume an honor-guard position at the head of the procession.  Many towns’ folk trailed behind in silence.

When the make-shift funeral parade reached the Boneyard, they were greeted at the iron gates by one of the green-robed cultist.  She nodded silently to Drasek, and then looked at the cloth-bound bodies.  
“Acolyte,” Drasek addressed her, “we have duties to attend.  These men died with honor, and so will be sent to our Lord with all rites and rituals…save one.  The goliath priest called Grubber shall be returned from the underworld by me.  It is not yet his time.”
The acolyte nodded again, and then led the procession deep into the Boneyard and to a large mausoleum.  

Dwilt and Vladius were laid in their final resting place.  The garrison soldiers lifted their swords in salute.  Dwilt was dressed in his old uniform, and Pyle had one of his men bring a Waterdhavian banner from the fort, and this was draped over the former-civilar.  Once the words were spoken, and the mausoleum sealed, Drasek had the acolytes place Grubber’s body before it, and in front of all those gathered, he performed the sacred ritual that would return the dead to life.  When Grubber drew breath and sat up, all of the spectators gasped in awe, and many holy warding signs were made upon breast and brow.  
“I know you,” Grubber said as he looked upon his savior.
“Yes,” Drasek replied.  When a soul was returned from the after-life, it knew exactly who had called it.  
“You have my thanks,” the goliath said, bowing.  He then looked at the mausoleum and at those of his friends that remained.  Understanding showed in his eyes, and deep sadness.
_________________________________________________

Later that evening, the group gathered at the Blackstone Inn, and Hawk gave to Drasek their long tale, leaving out no detail.  It was late into the night by the time he was done.  
“This is much to digest,” Drasek said finally.  “It answers many questions, but reveals so many more.  This Age of Worms you speak of bodes ill for not just this small town, but indeed for all of Faerun.  My duty is clear.  If you will have me, I will join your crusade to crush this undead menace before it can take root and fester in our world.”  
The members of the League welcomed the inquisitor eagerly, and then retired for the night, for in the morning, it was their intent to return once more to the Whispering Cairn.
_____________________________________________________

The League stood once more at the intersection where they had faced the Earl of Coalchester.  They had searched the salamander noble’s quarters, and uncovered several valuable treasures, including a wand capable of rendering others invisible, and four decanters of valuable Scarlet Ambrosia, an efreeti brandy.  The door directly to the south led to yet another dead end, leaving only the passage and door to the west to be investigated.

The doors led to a large, two-tiered hall, which shone with purple light from four chandeliers.  A large, black sphere hung between them.  The chandeliers seemed to be sculpted with small humanoid figures in silvery metal.  A second-floor gallery with arches and spiral-striped pillars ran the length of the hallway to a second set of large double doors.  The black, tile floor seemed to absorb the light from the chandeliers, and even sound in the chamber was muted and dull.  Two more sets of doors stood in the north and south walls of the upper gallery.

The team elected to ignore the main floor for the moment, instead moving up the stairs to the northern gallery.  They approached the doors there, and once Shay had assured them the portals were safe, they ventured through.  Beyond was a small but well-appointed room with a delicately arched ceiling.  The walls were painted with garden scenes featuring two Wind Duke lovers.  The center of the room contained a large urn with a dark, red glaze and gold decorations.  Six, small boxes, each carved of some black substance bound with corroded metal, lined the back wall.  Chairs sat in each corner.

 Shay moved cautiously to the urn, running his hand lightly over its surface, and the seal which held the cap on.  Finally, convinced there was no trap, he grasped the lid and removed it.  Instantly, a blue-black beam of energy lanced out at him, barely missing him as he somersaulted backwards.  Rolling to his feet, he grinned sheepishly at his team mates.  
“Allow me,” Giovanni said dryly, and he called upon his innate magic to create a dispelling field around the urn, negating the deadly trap.  Shay then peered inside the vessel, and saw it filled with fine ashes.  
“It’s a burial chamber,” he said.  “These boxes here must contain the wealth the Wind Dukes buried with the dead,” he continued eagerly.  Rubbing his hands together, he bent to examine the first box, then pulled out his lock-picks and quickly undid the latch.  Inside was a set of three clay tablets carved with strange glyphs.
“What do you make of these?” he asked, holding them out.  Grubber came over, taking one of the tablets and examining it closely.  
“The language looks familiar, but I’m not sure…”  He then began a brief prayer, asking Grumbar to grant him comprehension.  When he looked at the tablets again, their words were clear.
“They’re love poems,” he said sadly.  “It would seem a beloved mate was laid to rest here.”
“How romantic,” Grim said sarcastically.  “What’s in the other boxes Shay?  Anything useful?”

Drasek had been watching all of this unfold with increasing unease.  Finally, he spoke up.  
“Just a moment.  What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
Grim stared at him blankly.  “Looking for treasure, something that might help us on our quest.  What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re robbing a tomb,” the inquisitor said flatly.  “I was led to believe you were in this place looking for your mentor.  He obviously is not in this room.  You yourselves said these Wind Dukes were not creatures of evil, but rather champions of Law.  What right do you have to plunder their burial place?”
Grim drew himself up, and began stalking towards Drasek, “And just what gives you the right to think you can come in here barking orders at us?  We just met you yesterday.”
“Yes,” Drasek replied, unruffled by the dwarf’s intimidation attempt, “and I did you a great service by returning your companion to you.”
“A service we paid for!” Grim said, his voice rising.  “We didn’t ask you to come with us.  You invited yourself.  This is our team, and if you don’t like the way we do things, you can go back to where you came from!”
“I may do just that,” the paladin said coldly, “but I won’t allow you to desecrate this place.”
Grim growled low in his throat, his hand going to the handle of his axe.  At that moment, Hawk stepped between the two.
“Calm down, both of you,” the civilar said.  “Grim, he’s right.  It’s wrong for us to take these things.  How would you feel if your family’s tomb were desecrated?”
Grim’s mouth dropped open, “Hawk, you know what we’re up against here!  We can use every tool we can find, even if it means selling it in order to buy something we CAN use!  You’re going to let this yahoo come in and start dictating his rules and morals on us?”
Hawk placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “The ends do not justify the means.  We are no better than our enemies if we stoop to this level.”  Behind him, Grubber nodded, but Giovanni and Shay remained silent, a furtive look passing between them.  Storm also held her peace.
Grim considered for a moment longer, then “Fine…but only because you say Hawk, not because of this do-gooder.”  He hooked a thumb at Drasek.  “Looks like we’re done here.  Let’s go.”  He shouldered past the paladins, and out the door.  One by one the others followed, but Shay was the last.  Wistfully, he looked over his shoulder at the chamber, then narrowed his eyes and nodded silently to himself.

The doors on the southern gallery led to a wide, downward sloping passage, which traveled due south for several yards, before abruptly turning east.  The hall was pitch-black.
“Curse this darkness,” Grubber grumbled.  “It’s high time we shed some light in this forsaken place.”  With a word, the goliath suddenly lit up like a small sun, shedding celestial brilliance all about him.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much,” Shay said, shading his eyes, which burned from the glare even behind his darkened goggles.  
“Perhaps,” the priest replied, “but not only will this light our path, but should we meet any more outsiders with evil intent, or undead, the light will burn the flesh from their bones, given enough time.”

The group rounded the corner, and saw that the passageway continued on another ninety feet or more before opening into a large chamber.  From the light of Grubber’s beacon, they could see that the room had small columns around its edges which partially concealed carvings on the walls.  Pale, white light glowed from two large, wheel-shaped chandeliers, casting overlapping shadows throughout the room.  Blue metal double doors stood at the top of a flight of stairs opposite the main entrance, guarded by two warrior figures with raised double-swords.  A single doorway rested in the south wall, and a second pair of double doors lay to the north, both also guarded by warrior statues.  Crouched in the middle of the chamber, shielding its multiple eyes from the blinding light of Grubber’s spell, was the same, huge spider that had attacked them in the temple chamber above.

“You’re not gettin’ away this time!” Grim shouted, and with a roar he tore down the entire length of the hallway at a dead run.
“Grim no!” Hawk shouted after him, but to no avail.  The burly mineral warrior surged into the room, but the spider stepped to meet him.  Reaching out one massive fore-limb, it gently caressed the dwarf’s arm, and then shadows swirled around the two of them.  When the darkness had cleared, only Grim remained, yet somehow the dwarf knew he had been lucky.  He had felt a strange pull in the center of his chest, and a moment of disorientation, as if reality was warping around him.
“Fool!” Hawk said as he and the others entered the chamber.  “We don’t know what this creature is or what it’s capable of.  We’ve already lost two down here, do you want to make it three?”
“Aye, aye cap’n!” Grim saluted, then turned away grumbling.

The chamber itself, though richly carved, held nothing of any help in determining which way Ondabar had gone, if indeed he had even made it this far.  Purely by random determination, the group chose the southern, smaller door to investigate first.
A small room beyond contained two suits of dusty, archaic armor, resting in front of a small shrine, apparently long abandoned.  A weapon stand before the armor lay empty except for flakes of rust.  Behind the armor, the altar was loaded with dusty offerings from years past.  Two statues of regal Wind Dukes sat in small nooks above the shrine, and a door was painted on the wall to the right.
________________________________________________________

Zifforian and Triffiel sensed life, something they had not sensed in centuries.  They had once been Wind Dukes themselves, servitors who were assigned to watch over the tomb, an honorable post, if a dull one.  They were supposed to have been relieved from their duty after two decades, but when that relief never came, they found the tomb had been sealed and warded.  The accepted their fate stoically, spending centuries watching over the site, but eventually time and age drove them both mad, and into a lingering death.  Now the wraiths still watched the tomb, but in their insanity, they failed to grasp the nature of that task.  Recently, something was stolen while their attention was elsewhere, and the wraiths were obsessed with its return.  The foot soldiers could not be allowed any further theft of the tomb’s treasures, but now it seemed as if they had returned for just that reason.
______________________________________________________

Grim and Hawk had only just entered the room, when two large, black cloaked figures simply stepped out of the walls on either side of them.  The wraiths flowed towards them, the walls behind them partly visible through their semi-transparent forms.  One of them reached out, almost caressingly and placed its ghostly hand on Hawk’s chest.  Instantly the civilar felt blinding pain and debilitating weakness overcome him.  He felt as if his very soul were being drawn from him.  At the same time, the wraith seemed to swell with vitality.  

Grim swung his axe at his own assailant, watching in horror as the blade simply passed through the apparition.  At that moment, blinding light filled the room, and the wraiths recoiled from it, shrieking in pain.  The celestial light from Grubber burned them, but it also infuriated them even more.  Grubber seized the moment to step behind Hawk and lay his hands on the civilar.  He recognized the soul-draining effect for what it was, and he uttered a prayer that would counter it, restoring Hawk’s essence.

Drasek also recognized the undead dread wraiths, and he knew that sunlight was their bane.  Calling out his own prayer, he unleashed a focused beam of searing light at one of the creatures, only to see it pass harmlessly thru the wraith.  

“My thanks,” Hawk said quickly to Grubber, and then he launched himself at the quailing spirits.  As he did so, he called out to Torm, “Here my cry, my Lord and smite down my opponents with your vengeance!”  He plunged his blade into the nearest wraith, and felt solid resistance as it sank in.  A flash of holy fire pulsed from the sword, and the apparition wailed in inhuman agony.  

Still Grubber’s light seared and burned the wraiths.  As one, they flew from the corner they had retreated two, flashing past Grim and Hawk and stepping through the walls into the larger chamber beyond, both moving unerringly towards Grubber.  The celestial light had to be extinguished.  One of them raked a clawed hand across the goliath’s chest, and though Grubber knew what to expect, the reality of the sensation almost buckled his knees where he stood.

“Now!” Havok cried as the wraiths appeared among them.  “Let them have it!”  In unison, he, Storm and Shay unleashed their attacks, the warlock with an emerald blast, the sorceress with streaking magic missiles, and the rogue with three well-placed arrows.  Only Storm’s missile barrage seemed to have any effect at all.  The nearest wraith hissed as the force-projectiles hammered into it.  

Grim and Hawk followed the wraiths out of the small shrine and rushed to put themselves between the haunts and Grubber.  Each continued to swing at the cursed creatures, most of their blows ineffective, but on occasion, as a portion of a wraith solidly materialized from the ethereal, connecting solidly.  

Drasek held up his shield, Kelemvor’s symbol blazing.  “By the Lord of the Dead, I command you back to the underworld from whence you came!” the inquisitor shouted, but to no avail.  The wraith’s ignored his edict, attacking first at Shay as he struggled to knock another arrow.  The rogue quickly fell backwards, rolling to his feet some distance away to put his safely out of reach of the spooks.  The wraiths ignored the retreating rogue, intent only on Grubber, flowing around Grim and Hawk to reach him, and again touching him with their life-draining claws.  

Grubber knew that, well-intentioned though they might be, the two warriors were not going to be able to save him if the wraiths were intent on his death.  Stepping away from the apparitions, he called a prayer to his lips, and from the palm of his hand came a spray of diamond-like shards, comprised of pure holy energy.  As the nearest wraith reached for him, it caught the full impact of the blast and shattered into a thousand motes of shadow.

Grubber’s victory was short-lived as the second wraith swarmed after him.  Grim, Drasek and Hawk continued to try and interpose themselves, but the creature was implacable.  Its desire to douse the cursed light was all-consuming.  Again and again Storm hurled magic missiles at it, shearing off bits of shadow-stuff with each volley.  The three warriors continued to slash at, but on occasion, it would bat aside one of them, restoring its own un-life as it siphoned off their energy, and periodically, it would strike out at Grubber.  The priest felt himself weakening.  He quickly cast a prayer that would give him the endurance of a bear, temporarily shoring up his flagging life-force.  Just as he did so, however, the wraith hammered him with both fists, and his legs collapsed beneath him.  It leaned over, its cowled face lowering to his own, preparing to suck the last dregs of his life from him.  Suddenly, Hawk and Grim were there.  Shouting and slashing they drove the wraith back as Drasek knelt beside the fallen priest and used a prayer of restoration to bring him back from the brink.  Together, Grim and Hawk drove their blades against the undead horror, while at the same time a final blast from Storm destroyed the creature once and for all.
___________________________________________________

“I despair of ever finding him,” Grubber said, hanging his head between his knees as he slowly recovered from the wraiths’ assault.  “How could even a wizard of Ondabar’s standing have survived this nightmare?”
“Until we find evidence of his destruction,” Hawk said calmly, “we owe it to him to keep searching.”

Finding nothing of assistance in the small shrine the wraiths guarded, the group crossed the larger chamber to the double doors to the north.  The sight which greeted them on the other side momentarily shocked them into silence.  To say it was incongruous was an understatement.  A river surged through the tomb, its red water as bright as blood.  A stone bridge crossed the water, but its pilings were undermined by centuries of erosion, and the arches seemed to be barely holding.  In several places, the bridge tilted dangerously to one side.  On the far side of the river was what appeared to be a fortified gatehouse, dimly visible and secured by an enormous rusted gate, which was at least fifteen-feet tall, and just as wide.  

“Does anyone disagree with me when I say we avoid that bridge?” Giovanni asked rhetorically.  “I can get us across, but we’ll have to go in turns.  Grim, Hawk, Grubber, grab hold of me.”  The three complied, and in an eye-blink they vanished, only to appear on the far shore of the river.  Just as Giovanni turned to signal to Shay, Storm and Drasek that they were ok, the ground around him exploded.  Surging up from the churned earth were two large creatures with wide bodies made of a pebbly, stone-like material.  They had large, powerful mouths atop their heads, with three long arms, tipped with sharp talons, symmetrically positioned around their torsos.  Between the arms were large, stone-lidded eyes.  At their bases were three thick, short legs, each directly beneath an eye.  

One of them immediately struck at Hawk, locking its massive jaws around his thigh.  Though caught off guard, the civilar’s military training immediately took over.  Shield in one hand, and sword in the other, he stabbed at the odd creature, unleashing an electrical jolt through his blade as it struck.  The creature bled a thick, viscous ichor, but the electrical surge seemed to short-out, simply sparking and smoking across the monster’s rocky hide.

“So much for taking the safe approach,” Shay said.  Knocking an arrow, he took careful aim and fired a shaft straight through one of the eyes of the creature attacking Hawk.  Beside the rogue, Storm conjured an orb of crackling lightning to her hand and hurled it.  The electrical ball struck the monster, but like Hawk’s sword, the shock seemed to have no effect.

Havok was a man who knew his limitations, and front-line fighting was one of them.  Concentrating again, he willed himself back across the river, and in a moment he was standing with Shay, Storm and Drasek.  He also knew his strengths, and distance fighting was his forte.  He loosed an eldritch blast in a green burst at Hawk’s assailant, and was satisfied to see the creature recoil in pain from the civilar.

Meanwhile, Grim had his own problems.  The second creature was hammering relentlessly at his shield, keeping him on the defensive.  Suddenly, an image of Dwilt came to the mineral warrior’s mind, and he had an idea.  Snaking his axe under his shield, he used the head of it to snag the creature’s foremost leg, and then pulled, hoping to trip up the ungainly beast.  It looked as if, once down, it would be like a turtle unable to right itself.  However, he underestimated the stability that the creature’s tripod-like stance gave it.  Not only did his attempt fail, but the beast jerked its leg back, pulling the dwarf off-balance and sending him sprawling.  As he tried to regain his feet, the monster sank its teeth into his shoulder.

Grubber unstrapped his maul and drove it into the body of Hawk’s opponent.  He was just winding up for another blow, when the ground erupted again, and two more of the behemoth’s appeared, completely surrounding the trio.  In a flurry of claws and teeth, all four pressed their attack, ripping and tearing at all of the harried warriors.  

“I don’t have a clear shot!” Storm cried, knowing she couldn’t bring her most destructive magic to bear while her companions were trapped in the midst of the beasts.  
“Remember that Grubber imbued us with fire protection,” Havok reminded her as he launched another eldritch blast.  “He feared we might encounter more elementals, though it seems now that some sort of earth protection would have been in order.”  
Storm nodded, beginning her spell as Shay continued to pepper the monsters with arrows.

Hawk was taking the worst of the assault.  Even his battle-honed skill could not protect him from all sides at once.  He reached for his belt pouch, uncorked a flask there, and upended it.  Immediately, his body felt lighter than air, and he took flight, hoping to gain some altitude and a brief respite.  However, as he rose, all four of the creatures struck at him, pulling him back to the earth, where he landed in a crumpled heap, unmoving.  At that moment, Storm’s fireball exploded into the melee.  As Havok had said, Grim and Grubber appeared to suffer no ill effect…but neither did the creatures.  

Grubber raised his shield above his head to protect him from the teeth and claws all around him, as he knelt beside Hawk.  It was obvious that the civilar was dead, but Grubber also sensed that his soul had not yet departed.  He only had a moment to act.  Calling on Grumbar, he spoke a prayer which would prevent the soul from leaving, returning life to Hawk, but leaving him unconscious.  He had just managed to complete the spell when the attacks from the monsters broke through his defenses, battering him to the ground, engulfing him in the blackness as consciousness left him.

Grim was alone.  All about him, the beasts roared and struck.  His tower shield afforded him a greater measure of protection than his companions, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough.  Eventually, they would overcome him.  He saw, across the river, Drasek leap into the air, flying towards him.  He only hoped the goody-two-shoes wouldn’t be too late.

“Hold still…perfect!” Shay cried as he fired another arrow, this one impaling the same beast he had partially blinded before.  With a shriek, the monster collapsed.  “Only three to one odds now,” he said in satisfaction.  “Any takers?”  
“My money’s on the dwarf,” Havok said as his emerald blast seared into another of the beasts.
“As is mine,” Storm replied, hurling a lighting ball this time, intentionally placing it so that Grim was outside the blast radius.  This time, the electrical burst seemed to have some effect, and another of the monsters fell.

The deadly dance continued.  Drasek closed to join the fray, but he had no sooner arrived than one of the remaining beasts sliced across his abdomen, nearly disemboweling him.  The inquisitor was forced to temporarily retreat to heal his grievous wound.  Still Grim fought on.  He managed to hold his own, giving as good as he got, supported by artillery from Shay, Havok and Storm.  After a moment, Drasek rejoined him, and the battle raged on.

“I have an idea,” Storm said, breathless from the work of expending so much magical energy.  Reaching out to Shay, she uttered a spell, and the rogue faded from view.
“Strike at will,” the sorceress said to her unseen comrade.  “The magic I wove will not fail just because you are on the offensive.”
Shay smiled.  Concealment was his ally.  With it, he could pick his target spots with uncanny precision.  He set one foot on the bridge, just to lessen his margin of error as much as possible, but as he did so, the slippery stone caused him to lose his footing, and he tumbled over the side.  However, as he fell, a ring that he wore on his left hand flared to life, slowing his descent to the gentle glide of a feather.  Shay smiled again.  Always prepared, that was his motto.  As he landed gently on the sand, he sighted carefully, and loosed two arrows at one of the beasts, sinking them deep into the soft area just beneath its eyes.  Just as his arrows struck, a green blast from Havok felled the creature with finality.

With only one attacker left, Drasek dove quickly to the ground, landing beside Grubber and laying his hands upon the priest, willing Kelemvor’s life-giving energy into the goliath.  Grubber’s rasping breathing slowed and calmed, but he remained unconscious.  Drasek thought he was safer that way for the moment.  Just as he stood to assist Grim, the remaining beast struck him a fearsome blow, knocking him from his feet and sending him tumbling down the river embankment.

“Gotcha!” Shay shouted as the fully exposed flank of the creature was now in his view.  Three shots he loosed, and each struck in the center of one of the monsters’ eyes.  All three went dark, and with a groan, the behemoth tumbled into the river.


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## gfunk

Ika, once the amoral Vladius is upholding the principles of weal with Drasek.  Love it!!  I hope "Pyro" will live on with "Holocaust!"


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## Ika_Greybeard

Yea I went the total opposite of Pyro    If i had known you would have been back so soon  I prob would have went with Arme Geddon a Chaos Gnome and he was far from Law abiding   Holocaust another Pyschic huh sounds crazy enough Does he summon air elemental


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## Neverwinter Knight

Sounds all extremly interesting!! 

Happy holidays to you and yours! Hope you get the chance for a quick game over Christmas!


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## Ika_Greybeard

Neverwinter Knight said:
			
		

> Sounds all extremly interesting!!
> 
> Happy holidays to you and yours! Hope you get the chance for a quick game over Christmas!



Thank You and as a matter of fact we are playing today at 2pm. If we Did not play some would have to go to therapy


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## Richard Rawen

*Merry Christmas*

late... I know, but I'm always late... I dunno why.
I DO know you gave us a Really Good Christmas present, so I wanted to say Thanks!

Good action too, sorry to see the heroes falling... and so often!  Brutal fights, I did not realize Xorn were that rough.  So is Drasek only replacement or is Holocaust waiting in the wings yet?

Will they ever find Ondabar, or at least his remains?

Enjoying the action immensely,
Blessings,
Richard
M < > <


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## gfunk

Holocaust started playing as of yesterday.  We found Ondabar but were not sure quite what to do with him when we did


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## JollyDoc

gfunk said:
			
		

> Holocaust started playing as of yesterday.  We found Ondabar but were not sure quite what to do with him when we did




So like any team of heroic crime-fighters, they left him and went searching for more treasure.


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## Neverwinter Knight

Oh, flashback. Where'd my CR go? 

 Good thing enworld's back!


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## gfunk

Please see new thread: here


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