# The TOMB Of HORRORS Updated 08/17/05



## DM-Rocco (Jul 29, 2004)

The story of these adventurers and the Tomb of Horrors starts on post 16 below, the rest is filler from the formation of the party to that point.

Someone on the general discussion forum started an interest in old 1st addition modules, namely the ones I read pertained to the A1-4 Slaver series and of course, the S1 Tomb of Horrors, which is ironic because I had my current party go through the A1-4 Slaver series and they are now in the S1 Tomb of Horrors. I did my best to update the modules to 3.5 and I think the players had fun for the most part.

I started another thread for a Dragonlance story, but I thought it might be fun to post the adventures of this party so far for those who have not been through the Tomb of Horror before to read. Of course, I have notes from the other sessions leading up to this point, most of which I made into one type of story or another, so I figure, why let them go to waste, I will post them here.

Each sessions notes are a bit different, some from the characters perspective, I think I have the enemies perspective once and even the magical intelligent Halberd's perspective, so if you get lost in the translation, just give a holler and I will help you through it. Also, providing these notes gives insight into the changes I made in the A1-4 series (not much there) but also the changes I made into the story line for the S1 Tomb of Horrors (I made a lot of changes and added some of my own stuff). 

I will post these earlier sessions first and then I will come back here and post a link to where I start the threads for the Tomb of Horrors, hope you enjoy.

Cast of Characters
Delvin - A male human war mage (a in house class that can use armor, gets better BAB and spells)
Zimbar - A female Golden Elf Paladin (Golden Elf is a in house race combining most of the good stuff from all of the races, read below)
Thalis - A male Drow Elf Wizard
Khael - A human cleric of Pelor
Veenotheb - a human, DM controled wizard, there mostly for simple advice, comic relief and role-playing flare
Thorin - A male Axiomatic Githyanki psionic warrior
Gren KarlSon - A human male Tomb Radier (a in house class, pretty much like a rogue, but minus the sneak attack but gains 10 in skill ranks every level instead of 8, limited spells and mad knowledge bonuses)

These first sessions cover the meeting of the party (they started out at 5th level) and run through the A2-4 Slaver series. I had run A1 through with some of these guys in a previous game so I couldn't start with A1 here. This bit covers right up to te front door of the Hill Top fort.

* * * * *​ 






"Use boysen on the flies," came a distant echo in Thorin’s mind. His head throbbed as if a whole mountain of dwarves was using his head as an anvil. Drifting between the recluse of sleep and the torture of reality he lost himself in his thoughts and tried to swim back to the previous, but ended up drowning towards the later.

"Don’t poison us with your lies," came the voice again and this time it made much more sense. "Alarm, alarm, raise yourselves noble strangers, evil has a name and now a face. Look upon the fair folk, the seekers of the dead, the slayers of mankind, behold the golden elves. "

Thorin tried to shake the grogginess of sleep from his bones as he inventoried his surrounding. Six others stood around him, unclothed and unknown to the best of his recognition. One old man, the obvious speaker and accuser, had black hair with shocks of white that lined his sides like the wings from a bird. His hair was wild and unkempt as if his hair were blowing in some unknown breeze. Overall he appears to be a man, a human, of about 70 plus years in age, but with no signs of decrepity. To his left was another human, short in disposition and wiry, yet strong in stance that betrayed his keen mind. To his right was yet another human, a man of noble stature and a charismatic personality. Fairly standard so far, three humans no waiting. 

Then he noticed the other two, a man, who appears in most regards to be human, but with red, the color of searing flame, and rusty skin, he was more akin to a bloodline of demons or elementals, and the other, a creature of the underdark, a bringer of death and malice, a drow. What foul company have I been keeping of late, thought Thorin. Last but not least was the cause of all of this commotion, a figure held in thrall in some magical barrier. She was a female, and what a female she was. Skin, soft as a rose petal and sweet to the senses. Her skin looked as if it was spun from gold and her silver hair shimmered in the waning moon light as her eyes shifted in color from copper, to bronze, to platinum, piercing the souls of everyone around her. He couldn’t tell her race, at first glance she appeared as an elf, with her long pointed ears, longer than most elves in fact, but she seems as if their was more to her than that.

"Her and her kin betrayed the races of mankind, and doomed the world to near extinction. Foul are their tongues and fouler still are their thoughts and the foulest are their deeds. Baby slayers, one and all. No mercy should be shown to the likes of her, she is evil and evil deserves but one fate, the business end of a noose," came the ratings from the uppity old man.

"Burn her I say, burn her good. Lynching is to good a fate for so cruel a person," came a reply from the red haired man.

"How do we know she is evil, good has a home in all who seek it, and even in those that don’t. I will not act to slay her until you can prove to me by her actions or deeds that she is as you claim, a devil in fine clothes, or lack there of," came the counter from the noble man.

"The deeds of the family are her deeds as well. Are you not learned in the fairy tales of the world? Here is a fairy tale come to life before your eyes and you seek proof. The proof is that she exist and that is enough for me," came the argument from the old one.

"Excuse me, I have-," came a comment from the shadows.

"Behold her companion, a foul drow. There is your proof, she is in league with the minions of the underdark. Stay your hand foul creature, your fate shall be tied to this ones," and with but a single gesture the dark elf was held in the same type of magical cage as the golden elf.

"Sure ye being an evil thing if ever I did see one. Burn them to ash, burn," cried the red haired man.

Thorin took a step to the shadows, with an angry mage casting spells of entrapment on anything that wasn’t human, he decided it was best not to reveal his Githyanki bloodline. While his most well know cousins are a race of evil astral travelers he is from another plane, the home plane, Mechanus. Years of enslavement from the Illithid corrupted the hearts of his cousins and drove them to evil acts just to survive, but the true nature of the Githyanki live on the home plane of Mechanus and there they are known as the Axiomatic Githyanki, Lawful in nature and neutral in thought. But that seems to matter little to this crazed man. Thorin concentrated for a moment and then projected his thought outward towards the old one, reaching for the first traces of the wizards mind. Anger, hatred and fear filled this ones heart and because of his overwhelming charismatic nature, others who may not have felt the same way, now want a lynching.

A burst of light filled the night sky and a wave of divine power rolled across the grove.

"See your enemy now, under the field of the divine she should turn away if she was of an evil heart but instead see how her appearance only seems to accept the purity of the light," argued the noble man.

"Trickery, she is as evil as evil can be and has bewitched your eyes," countered the old one.

"You have her gagged and bound, release her and let her speak."

"She can whisper but a word and slay us all, even the gaze of the golden elf can shoot balls of flame, never, I won’t do it."

"Fire, burn!"

"It would seem logical to interrogate her and at least learn if others of her kin are around. I know of the Golden elves and I know that the ability to shoot balls of flame from their eyes and lightning from their ass is a tale of myth to frighten children into behaving." This came from the short man with the keen mind.

"Very well, but be it on your head if she turns us into toads," and with the snap of his fingers the spell was released and the old one jumped back, preparing to slay the elf if need be. "Speak now servant of evil and lie not to me for I can read the hearts of men, and women."

"Yes, speak or burn!"

"Speak."

"Be quick about it."

The golden elf dusted herself off and calmly rose to face her accusers.

"I am Zimbar, of the house of Zann. I am a defender of the weak, a protector of good, I am a golden elf." The old man started to speak but the look of disgust from those around the grove told him to keep his comments to himself.

"There are things you must know, but for now I have no choice but to spell out the history of me and my kin lest the spell never be broken. 

"The fair folk, born not of one but of many. Bred, not created, from the blood of all races gaining the best of all their abilities. The high elves created them to fight back the Drow Elves and imprison them in the Under Dark. With the sensitivity of the Elves, the hardiness of the Dwarves, the slyness of the Halflings, the Cunning of the Gnomes, the rage of the Minotaurs, the determination of the humans, the brute force of the orc and the blood line of many other race to numerous to get into here, they are a creation of perfection. The High Elves instilled in them other abilities to aid against the night of the Dark Drow, and needless to say that such a race of Elves overwhelmed the Drow and banished them from the light. They were heroes, but history is written by the victor and few knew why others hate us today. The Golden Elves were bred for the purpose of defeating the Drow, it was in their blood, they were bound by it, but with the promise that afterwards they would be free to do as they will. 

"Then came the birth of Arrazznecronakk.

"During the first sundering, when Arrazznecronakk, a wizard of immense power came into ascension of godhood and with his new powers plotted the fall of man and his fellow Deities, it was the men of the Earth that came to the Golden Elves and begged for help, remembering the power of the golden elves during the drow wars. Though they owed no allegiance, they agreed to save the world again and with their help, the Gods over threw Arrazznecronakk from the heavens and his followers from the Earth, but they could not kill Arrazznecronakk so they sent him to Earth to repent his ways and stripped him of his powers. In his humility he began to worship Krusk, the All God, and through him he again gained in the powers of the church and used his past knowledge and failure to make himself a lich of tremendous power. Again he threatened to become a God and again the races of the Earth turned to the Golden Elves to fight a fight for them during the time of the second Sundering. Again the Golden Elves fought for all of our futures and again they won a great victory, destroying the Arch-Lich Arrazznecronakk. 

"Or did they? 

"Centuries passed and a cult began to grow and it was lead by another wizard, two in fact, of incredible power who also became liches in their masters likeness. And so it was that Vecna and Acererak made Arrazznecronakk a God by building a cult of followers into a congregation of faithful. Arrazznecronakk let Vecna and Acererak hold sway and control of the Earth while he, one by one, banished the Gods from the heavens. Many think they are dead, but we know better now. Arrazznecronakk would not kill them, not when he can make them suffer for eons. For the fourth time the races of the Earth turned to the Golden Elves and this time they said no. 

"In their centuries on the Earth they knew that if they did everything for the peoples of the Earth they would become soft and weak, and they had. It was said that the Golden Elves turned their backs on the races of the Earth when the truth was far worse. Despite their stance on neutrality, Vecna and Acererak hunted them to the brink of extinction. Some say they fueled the war of the Gods with the blood in their veins. It was the blood of the many that did save the day, but not from the Golden Elves. The races of the world banded together and launched an assault on Vecna, Acererak and his followers, while a fellowship of all races went through a vortex to battle Arrazznecronakk. It is rumored that Calamar the Dark was among those that went and that only he returned. Arrazznecronakk is rumored banished and Vecna, thanks to the betrayal of his general Kas, was ripped asunder and his body torn to pieces, only his left eye and right hand remain, but none can say were they are today and none have ever heard of Acererak again, his disappearance is a mystery to this day. Some say he is dead, some say he is in hiding yet others believe that he is on a sojourn, questing for the secrets of the universe so he himself may take his masters place in the heavens. But out of the ashes of the fourth Sundering their were two things that remained, the evil in the hearts of the world and the deep hatred of the Golden Elves for betraying the Races of the Earth. That is why they we are hated, that is why we are hunted, that is why we are despised. With our Golden skin, platinum eyes and shimmering Silver hair we are the Fair Folk and the sight of us turns the uneducated mind to rage.

She walked with purpose to the old one.

"Now Veenotheb, do you know me, do you know your friend. It is I Zimbar the righteous, Zimbar the lawful, Zimbar the Holy. Paladin of the order of Zackary, chosen champion of the planes. Look upon me and break the spell that holds sway of your heart." 

In the blink of an eye the old one came to his senses and foolish he felt. As if an after thought, he snapped his fingers and released the holding spell from the drow.

"Hold no anger in your heart Thalis, Veenotheb was seduced by trickery, to be revealed forthwith, but first, mark and member the past, turn your hate from your eyes and know the truth."

As if in a trance, the dark elf also came to his senses.

"Khael," replied Zimbar as she addressed the noble man, "It was your words that saved my life and weakened the spell, thank you for your beliefs." She truned next to the small man with the keen look in his eye. "Gren KarlSon, you have ever been a friend, remember now your past so we can enjoy the future. Devin, your hate was fueled on false hoods and your natural disposition of a quick temper and obsession with fire. Release yourself as well and finally Thorin, you have not been forgotten by me, take your fear and stow it where lies your hope and love and you shall not falter in your judgments anymore.

"Come now Malik, your game is at an end, come now and face me," cried the golden elf.

The darkness grew and formed the shape of blackest black, forming the outline of yet another drow, but this one had a radius of awe and might. So overwhelming was his aura that everyone felt compelled to take a knee and shield their eyes from his presence. 

"Bravo, bravo," came the sarcastic reply. "You have yet again proven use as a source of great entertainment for me golden one. I thought that your friends would not be able to over come your racial past, and I was right, for the most part. I would have won this game had it not been for the power of the cleric. Next time I shall have to do more than make you naked and take away your memories. I am truly sorry I can not stay, but we have company. Perhaps next time I shall play with you a little longer." His voice trailed off and then was gone.

"Something comes this way. " Zimbar looked into the dark night of the forest, scanning for signs of trouble. "Someone approaches, a girl, and others as well, hobgoblins by the smell of them. To me my friends, may Zackary's light shine true and guide your strikes."

The bushes broke and as predicted by Zimdar, a female human child crashed from the underbrush and collapsed to the ground. A mad scramble was made for the piles of equipment that lay on the ground. Some reached for swords, some for spell components, some for both. Soon, a hoard of hobgoblin broke through the glade and assaulted the party. A bloody battle ensued and thanks in large part to a well placed wall of fire and a timely fireball, the battle was soon over.

After some much needed healing the party learns the following from the escaped slave and remembers events that led up to this encounter.

The coastal lands of the Land Locked Sea have long been raided by the ruthless Slave Lords, traders in human misery. After years of argument, the sovereigns of the area finally decided to take action against them. A band of fearless adventurers was gathered and sent to investigate the slavers' base in the decayed city of High-Port. The slavers were discovered to be operating out of a ruined temple dedicated to the orcish god Gruumsh. After defeating the orcs, the implacable adventurers discovered a secret trap door leading to the sewers beneath the temple. There they found the dreaded Slave Pits, guarded not only by orcs and ogres but also by creatures more foul, including the horrible insect-men. After all these were beaten, the adventurers encountered and defeated one of the Slave Lords managing the operation in Highport. As a result of their victory, the party obtained records of slaver activities and a map of their caravan route.

The map has led the party inland from Highport to an old fort lost in the midst of the Drachensgrab Hills. Supposedly this stockade is used as a way station by humanoid caravan merchants who dare risk travel across these perilous lands. The party's map, however, indicates that the fort is really a front for the slavers, and that it is being used as a processing and fattening house for newly acquired slaves. The information agrees with that received from a slave who escaped from the stockade. The slaves are brought in with the mock caravans, but they are never seen to leave. To help fulfill their mission the player characters decide to investigate the old fort.

After a harrowing journey in which the party faced hunger, bandits, and the wild tribesmen of the Drachensgrab Hills, the adventurers have arrived at their destination and are scouting this fort from concealed positions on a nearby ridge. The fort is situated atop a high, steep hill that surveys the countryside. A warding ditch 20' wide and 10' deep surrounds the fort. The only access road winds down from the north, through a narrow valley, up to the drawbridge that spans the ditch.

The hill fort is a combination of recent construction and the remains of an older stone fortress. The outer wall of the hill fort is an earthen rampart topped by a wooden stackade. However, the curtain wall containing the drawbridge is made of stone. The wall is 35' high and is topped by a stone parapet which is constantly manned. The curtain wall is connected to the rest of the fort by the rampart and stockade.

The ground slopes upward from the curtain wall, and some distance back, across an open courtyard, is the gatehouse. This is of massive construction, four stories high, with a stone parapet atop it, so that all sides can be defended. The rampart and stockade connect to the gatehouse and surround the fort keep.

The keep abuts the rampart on three sides, with a parade grout to the north between the main building and the gatehouse. The fort was originally a single story stone building, but the slaves have added a wooden guardpost as a partial second story. The entrance to the main building is recessed back and an enclosed garden leads from the building's entrance to the parade ground.

The rampart and stockade surround the fort on the west, south and east sides and join the curtain wall to the north. The out face of the walls and stockade are fitted with downward sloping spikes to prevent attackers from scaling the walls. The stockade has a walkway on all sides, the walkway being 15' above the main building's first floor. Guards patrol the walkway, and the top of the gatehouse and curtain wall, but it is impossible to estimate from a distance.

The curtain wall, the gatehouse, and the main building are all built of stone. The ceilings and walls of rooms and corridors are made of stone. The ceilings in the east and west wings, however, are made of plaster over wood hung on wooden rafters.

The floors are wooden. Wooden beams are used to reinforce weak sections of the stone buildings. The stockade is wooden, as is the wall walk and the pavilion overhang in the open garden section of the U-shaped main building. The inner courtyards are nothing but rock-strewn mud flats. The only vegetation (besides mold and mildew) are the trees in the garden surrounded by the main building.

The hill fort shows signs that it has been sacked in the past. Some of the stones are blackened as though by fire. Some areas of stonework shows signs of ancient destruction from catapult and trebuchet attacks. These holes have been crudely repaired. The stockade is of more recent construction than the rest of the hill fort. Close examination shows that the stockade has been built directly behind the remains of a stone foundation where an outer perimeter wall once stood.

The humanoids in the hill fort do not care whether it is clean or not. As a result, both the fort and the dungeon are filthy. The floors are covered with dust, and trash is scattered about the rooms and corridors. The walls are covered with grime, mildew, and cobwebs. Broken or rotted furniture is thrown into corners rather than repaired. The entire place is infested with rats, spiders, and other foul vermin.

The escaped slave has told the party that she left the fort by running a makeshift rope from the curtain wall's second story, near the main gate, to the ditch and climbing down. Since no one saw her leave, she was pursed in the woods by a patrol, she is sure the rope is still there. No matter what else you try to do to the slave girl, she can tell you no more.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 29, 2004)

*session 2 Module A2 Secret of the Slaver Stockade*

“The road to the north is clear of anyone or anything,” said Zimbar, as she paced about the encampment, her long flowing silver shimmering hair reflecting the moon’s light about the trees. “The slave girl lies, or else the whole truth is not known to her. If the slave girl is telling the truth about the remainder of the slaves being sold and moved at dawns first light, then there is no sign of buyers on the northern road or off of any of the game trails.”

“Perhaps there is an entrance that we have missed, another way into the keep,” stated kheal matter-of-factly, not every entrance can be gained through foot wear or horse hoof. 

“Something is not right, but I can’t put my finger on it,” declared Zimbar. “Do you hear that?”

Kheal and the others strained to hear anything over the chirping of birds and the symphony of the night. They heard nothing but soon they would, soon one would return. Zimbar’s keen ears picked up the sound long before the others.

“Relax, Gren approaches,” stated Zimbar, a mask of emotion.

Out the shadow Gren emerged, slightly dusty and worn from his scouting mission.

“Speak Gren, we have much to do and have lost so much time,” commented Delvin.

Gren wasted no time in his scouting report. 

“The fort is situated atop a high, steep hill that surveys the countryside. A warding ditch 20' wide and 10' deep surrounds the fort. The only access road winds down from the north, through a narrow valley, up to the drawbridge that spans the ditch. The hill fort is a combination of recent construction and the remains of an older stone fortress. The outer wall of the hill fort is an earthen rampart topped by a wooden stackade. However, the curtain wall containing the drawbridge is made of stone. The wall is 35' high and is topped by a stone parapet which is constantly manned. The curtain wall is connected to the rest of the fort by the rampart and stockade.

“The ground slopes upward from the curtain wall, and some distance back, across an open courtyard, is the gatehouse. This is of massive construction, four stories high, with a stone parapet atop it, so that all sides can be defended. The rampart and stockade connect to the gatehouse and surround the fort keep. The keep abuts the rampart on three sides, with a parade grout to the north between the main building and the gatehouse. The fort was originally a single story stone building, but the slaves have added a wooden guard post as a partial second story. The entrance to the main building is recessed back and an enclosed garden leads from the building's entrance to the parade ground.

“The rampart and stockade surround the fort on the west, south and east sides and join the curtain wall to the north. The out face of the walls and stockade are fitted with downward sloping rows of spikes, one foot apart in three offsetting patterns, to prevent attackers from scaling the walls. The stockade has a walkway on all sides, the walkway being 15' above the main building's first floor. Guards patrol the walkway, and the top of the gatehouse and curtain wall, but it is impossible to estimate from a distance.

“The curtain wall, the gatehouse, and the main building are all built of stone. The ceilings and walls of rooms and corridors are made of stone. The ceilings in the east and west wings, however, are made of plaster over wood hung on wooden rafters. The floors are wooden. Wooden beams are used to reinforce weak sections of the stone buildings. The stockade is wooden, as is the wall walk and the pavilion overhang in the open garden section of the U-shaped main building. The inner courtyards are nothing but rock-strewn mud flats. The only vegetation (besides mold and mildew) are the trees in the garden surrounded by the main building.

“The hill fort shows signs that it has been sacked in the past. Some of the stones are blackened as though by fire. Some areas of stonework shows signs of ancient destruction from catapult and trebuchet attacks. These holes have been crudely repaired. The stockade is of more recent construction than the rest of the hill fort. Close examination shows that the stockade has been built directly behind the remains of a stone foundation where an outer perimeter wall once stood.

“The humanoids in the hill fort do not care whether it is clean or not. As a result, both the fort and the dungeon are filthy. The floors are covered with dust, and trash is scattered about the rooms and corridors. The walls are covered with grime, mildew, and cobwebs. Broken or rotted furniture is thrown into corners rather than repaired. The entire place is infested with rats, spiders, and other foul vermin. 

“I have found and tested the rope that the slave girl had used, it is sound and can even handle the heaviest of us,” concluded Gren in his report of the Hill fort.

“Then it is settled, we must blindly ascend to the tower to free the slaves,” chimed in Thorin.

From the Journal of Zimbar.

After breaking camp we struck out for the rope that the slave girl had left behind. The rope was almost as easy to find as the climb was to make. When we entered the second story of the guard tower it was an entrance to a room of choking dust. The window had, apparently in the not to distant past judging by the smell, been used as a dump for slops and nightsoil out into the warding ditch. Cobwebs covered the ceiling and walls. There was a single line of footprints in the dust, made by a naked human foot. They led from the east and end at this window. When I entered this room I had an uneasy feeling come over me. I fear nothing of this world, but still, something put the willies in me.

Ghen opened the opposing door and we were on our way.

The next room was much like the other, a thick pasting of dust covered the floor and human foot prints lead from the door we stood at to the stair to our right. White pieces of a marble like substance line the floor and brown stains too. I looked closer and to my horror, the brown stains were of dried blood and the white flakes of marble, bone chips.

Ghen, while walking down the stairs, tripped an alarm and a marble ball fell from the ceiling and shattered into a blinding explosion of light and released thousands of smaller marbles that covered the floor. Unfortunately Thorin, while momentarily blinded, slipped on the small balls and fell down the stairs, narrowly missing Ghen in the process.

The others went down the stairs but I felt compelled to wander and explore. There was an uneasiness about this guard tower and something that bothered me in the pit of my stomach. I opened the door on the far wall which lead into a room that must have once been used for warding off invaders who had broken through the gate and were pouring through the passage below, for there are murder holes in the floor, for pouring oil on invaders. I had the strangest feeling that something, or someone, was watching me. 

I was alone, yet I felt that I must go on, but why? What did I have to prove? Yet, go on I did and I moved to the next door. The chirping of crickets stopped and the shadows seemed to move. A flickering light played on the wall at the end of the passage yet in spite of the many arrow slits, the room remained dark. I used some of my magic to shed light upon the room but the light came to life and died with in the span of a heart beat. I am no coward, but I know when I should walk away, and this was the time.

To bad I waited so long to follow my comrades.

A ghostly apparition materialized before me, his face a shock of terror. He reached for my throat with ghostly hands and I could feel him siphon my strength from my body. Chills swept through my arms and legs and soon the chills became an overwhelming dread of frigid torment. As soon as it started it stopped and I knew why. Why this spirit was stuck in this level of the tower. Years ago, before the slavers had taken control of the keep, this man was assigned to guard the tower. In his death throws his spirit was bound to this hall for all time, less someone would come along and help him in his dieing quest to free the filth from the keep. As the light of Zackera watches over her faithful, I shall help this wretched man complete his quest.

I rejoined the others. 

My companions had been attempting to gain the advantage of higher ground by finding a way to scale the wall. Razor sharp spikes lined the inner walls too so climbing the wall in the traditional way was out of the question. The idea of teleporting to the top of the battlement had merit, but the advantage of surprise would be lost with one look at Thorin. It was soon agreed that Ghen would use his rope to scale the wall, with a telekinetic assist from Thorin.

Ghen tried to climb the rope, but he fell twice and a third attempt was not given since we finally were discovered, the wall guards had made our position. We dispatched them quickly but was it quick enough. The earth began to rumble and from the ground sprung an Anhkeg. In spite of his massive size and a luck strike to Thorin, we dispatched this beast in mere moments with a mighty swing from my faithful blade.

There was no choice now, we had to go through the mud filled parade grounds. Thanks to Delvin’s casting of the floating disk of magical energy we crossed the mud in good time and avoided most of the arrow fire from above. Just in time too, as the alarm had been tripped and the whole fort was searching for our presence. We quickly made our way across the inner grounds to the make shift garden where Thorin and Delvin washed the mud from there bodies. 

The attack came quickly and with precision. I have not ever seen Hobgoblins this organized and disciplined. Some other force must be at work here, but what?

After dispatching the hobgoblins on the wall and the Carnivorous apes in the trees we made our way into the main body of the keep. We sent Gren ahead to scout and good thing too, he found a most puzzling pit, whenever the far door would open, the floor would flip over and send those that had been standing there into the spiked pit below. The room beyond was of little interest to us, just a room used for paying the troops, but the doors to the north and south, they held interest. The southern door gave way to a long hall way so we decided to wait before going down that hall. The northern door was very strong and stubborn, proof came in the way of Thorin as he failed in his attempt to smash the door down. He was about to try again but the door opened on its own and from the shadows stepped an Ogre and a hoard of hobgoblins. Perhaps we should have stayed to stealth, perhaps, but whatever, it is to late to dwell on the past and the spirit within is calling to me, we have a fight to fight.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 29, 2004)

*session 3 Module A2 Secret of the Slaver Stockade*

Thorin stalked the shadows of the Hillfort, moving in silence down the dusty hallways, pausing at each door to use his natural psionic powers to see and listen through the walls and doors. At the end of the corridor he held his breath as he slowly pressed the lever on the door and with a loud crash Thorin burst into the room, his blade a fury of motion.

“Die slaver scum,” cried Thorin, his rage beyond control. The room contained a ceramic pot, used for the barracks latrine, and two rather pathetic looking hobgoblins, cowering in the corner, swords on the ground and arms out in a sign of mercy.

“Don’t hurts us, we no kill pretty elf, we only following orders we were,” pleaded one of the hobgoblins.

“You kill Grogg, we feared to disobey Grogg or our head would roll, you kill master, now you our master,” whimpered the other.

Thorin held his blade and checked his fury, years of training in the monasteries and war schools of the Githyanki had taught him to show mercy when given the chance and no quarter in all other situations. He could kill these two before they had a chance to draw another breath, but to do so would violate everything that he believed.

“By the light of Pelor, have at you,” came the war cry from behind.

“Stay your hand my jihad happy friend, these two can cause us no more harm and offer their services to us freely. I can no more slay these two than you could live the rest of your life in darkness.”

“Perhaps your right, but I will know vengeance for the loss of Zimbar,” cried Khael, tears accomplishing the one thing in all the world the light could not, blinding his sight. He dropped his mace to the ground, light burning from his eyes, the divine might of his God, Pelor of the Sun, piercing the darkness, he reached for the nearest Hobgoblin and pinned him to the wall. The pathetic creature squirming under the intense light of Pelor.

“Behold the light of Pelor you miserable, vomitous, putrid pool of bile. Your salvation lays not in the path which you have chosen but that which you have yet to take. Behold the light and the way of Pelor and know true power, the power of the Sun, the power to heal, the power create, the power to destroy. Stand now before the light of the one God and be judged for all time, for your actions to the living echo with you to eternity, behold!” The Hobgoblin tried to cringe away in fear, moving and turning to break the iron grip that held him. His struggles proved fruitless however and he had no choice but to look into the light, no choice but to feel the strength and might of the servant of Pelor. He stared into the light, meeting the gaze of Khael and when he turned away, his eyes were nothing more than milky white glazed over orbs, he was now stone blind.

“I see the errors of my ways I do, please hurt him no further, please I beg of you, show us mercy, Jurit will tell you all you need to know I will, Jurit will serve you evermore,” cried the voice of the other Hobgoblin. 

Khael turned his fiery gaze towards the other Hobgoblin and the flames died down.

“Speak now, and quickly, for I have little patience left. Tell me the lay of the keep, who runs it and where the slaves are and I shall spare your lives. Leave nothing to chance, tell all and speak the truth or I shall pen your name in the dead book.”

“Yes of course, I shall speak, and the truth too, for I will see no harm come to my new master. My name is Jurit and this is Gaul, we came to the Hillfort seven years ago in promise of wealth beyond our means. When we arrived, Icar trained us in battle tactics and discipline. Beware of Icar master, he is tall, even for a human, he must stand at least two heads taller than any of you and he is blind, blind as my friend now is, but his lack of vision from birth has given him true sight. He can see better than the sighted he can. He guards this level of the Hillfort and is in charge of it’s defense. I know nothing of the halls beyond and nothing of the dungeon below. I know that is where the broken slaves are kept, ready to be shipped to market and below is where you can find Markessa, she is a warrior like no other and can use magic too. Dark magic she wields. She can turn people from one race into an other, twisting and pulling at the fabric or creation to create new breeds of slaves. That is all I know master Khael, please don’t hurt use anymore, we will follow you until death if commanded, we will follow the light evermore.”

Khael relaxed his grip on Gaul and reached for the medallion around his neck. He pulled the medallion of Pelor off but it remained, or rather it duplicated itself and then again, so that two copies of the medallion of Pelor were held in either hand.

“Take these medallions of your new God and wear them always, before you go to bed at night, meditate on them and pray to him for salvation. In his flame shines salvation,” preached Khael. He watched as both of the Hobgoblins placed the medallions around their necks and to his surprise they did not burn in fiery deaths as an infidel would have but rather they glowed slightly with a reverent light of acceptance.

“By Pelor’s flame,” gasped Khael, amazed that such creatures of evil had been accepted into Pelor’s fold.

“Take this silver, the combined treasure of your comrades, and have your riches. Spread the word to those we have passed that there are new lords of the keep and await our return,” casually replied Gren. 

The two hobgoblin’s quickly gathered up the money on the floor and praised the hardy adventures names. The party of friends now turned their task to the gruesome work at hand, binding the body of their fallen comrade. Gren then used his magical bag to encompass the fallen comrade and store his/her body for a future burial.

In the end it was Thalus that knew the rights about the proper burial rituals of the golden elves. The body needed to be burned at its ancestral home and the ashes spread across Menzoberranzan, one of the largest drow cities of the underdark. Thalus, who once would have reveled in the body of a golden elf, was now sickened at the treatment of such remains by his fellow drow. The body would have been taken to the altar’s of Loth where horrible curses and poxes would be cast on the mortal remains and its mortal shell filled with energy from the negative material plane, binding the golden elf to an undeath life for all time. Such undead creatures are then used to track down and slay others of their kin or used against the house enemies. Even crueler are the dark deeds used by the magi of the under world for they use the physical remains, when they can get their hands on them from the females clerics, to fuel dark and sinister powerful magic.

“May Pelor’s light guide your way my friend,“ was the only words spoken and the only ones needed as Zimbar’s body was slowly placed in Gren’s bag of holding.

* * *​
On the remaining brave companions went, trudging through the Hillfort. Down one hallway they encountered a set of three mummies, quickly dispatched by a fireball from Thalus and then came the attack from behind from yet more Hobgoblins. Jurit intervened, and persuaded the small group that we were their new master as well. This Jurit seems to have a natural leadership quality about him and in the absence of his cruel over lords, he could rise to the challenge of leading his fellow hobgoblins as a commander while his quite counter part, Gaul, seems more spiritual in nature.

Following the twisting and winding hallways we came to a pit trap, an illusion revealed the pit was actually closer than it appeared and the clever designers placed a thin, yet strong, nearly invisible wire across the far side which was unseen by Gren’s human eyes. He found out the hard way as he jumped across the gap and then was force back into the pit of spikes. Luckily he had tied a rope to himself before jumping across, that and the strength of the Githyanki were enough to pull him out of harms way.

Water wells and store rooms and then a breaking room for the slavers. This room contained a most unusual creature, a cloaker. The beast best looked like a cloak, hence the name, and he used his spineless body to wrap itself around Gren in hope of smothering him to death. The beast then let out a low subsonic moaning that caused many in the party to feel weak and helpless. The battle was hard fought but in the end the brave adventures came out on top.

Several other rooms, store closets and warehouses and barracks lined the hallway. One room even contained a man awaiting slaves. He fought to the death, with nothing more than a curse to the party for their effort. In another room was a man known as executioner, and rightly so as he wore a black executioner’s hood on his head and was donned in fine black chain mail. He wielded a hefty bastard sword with two curving hooks in the cross guards which gave him an uncanny ability to disarm his opponents as Gren found out as his chain went flying from his hand.

Snaking around the hallway we came upon a kitchen. In this room was a odd mixture of hobgoblins, were-boars and Icar, the cruel fort leader. The battle was hard fought as the were-boars were a tough lot and Icar was tougher still. He seemed immune to even the toughest magic we threw at him. Heavy wounds of every kind racked up upon his body, but the most telling was the blast wound from Khael’s searing light magic, ironic that a blind man could be hurt by light. In a rage of fury he charged the fire pit where he had previously thrown Khael and pinned him into the flames, a last ditch effort to take at least one of us down with him.

He himself burned in flames.

The connecting rooms were bedrooms and more storage chambers. In Icar’s bedroom we ran into a medusa, a foul creature whose gaze can turn others to stone and indeed it did. Khael, Delvin and Thalus all turned to stone by the gaze of that most foul of beasts. After slaying the beast it was Venotheeb who had the solution to breath life into the stone statues but it came at a price, he needed magic. Potions and a used up ring were required. The magic was then taken from the items and used to fuel a spell to turn stone to flesh. 

Down into the depth’s of the keep we went where the party encountered a room full of goblin’s which were easily dispatched. Then down the hallway were a strange, large magnet pulled the parties metal weapons and armor to the wall. Delvin got the worst of it as he was unable to move as he was wearing full interlocking plates of metal. Stuck he was until the release lever for the trap was found. Around the corner we encountered some spiders using a dead body covered in cob webs to lure victims to their doom. After slaying the beasts we found a secret door and a hallway and that is were the party ponders their next move.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 29, 2004)

*session 4 Module A2 Secret of the Slaver Stockade*

Screaming came from beyond the door and light shined under it. When Gren opened the door an enormous pillared room can be seen. In the swaying shadows, set dancing by the light of a chandelier swinging back and forth. The floor is 10’ below the landing on which the door opens and a set of stairs leads down into the room. To either side of these steps where small, 5’ ledges. The ceiling stood 30’ from the ground and the room gave the appearance of a torture chamber, for about the room can be seen racks, hanging cages and chains, iron maidens, fir pits and braziers; and their unfortunate occupants. Standing amongst these implements of torture where many goblins. On all sides of the room could also be seen great archways, some leading to alcoves, while others are walled up. Suddenly the swinging chandelier came crashing down from the ceiling to smash at the top of the stairs, exploding into flame as the oil spills and ignites.

It was Thalus that closed the door and prevented the party from burning to death. Once everyone had a change to prepare for the worst of it, the party charged into the room. Thalus lead the assault with a web spell. This had the fortunate affect of paralyzing many of the goblins and the unfortunate effect of preventing us from getting to the bowman. It was the misfit styling of Thorin that saved the day. He dimension slide to the back of the room and went to town on the feeble defenses of the Goblins. Gren contributed to the fray by finding the secret door that lead to the Bugbears and their secret room that they used to fire arrows from. The battle was slow and long but in the end the party defeated the hordes and moved deeper into the dungeons.

The party then reached a might steam filled chasm. Steam from the depths made vision, (except those in the party with steam vision 60’ radius) obscure and limited to five yards. Gren easily jumped from ledge to ledge and made it to the other side with ease. The others in the party where a far cry from being as good as the sure footed tomb raider. Thalus was the first to slip on the moist condensation of the ledges and fall to the depths below. His magic saved him from a certain death as he first used it to slow his descent and then to fly around like a Super Drow. Delvin used his magic as well, but instead of flying he created a disk for the others to ride on and he jumped across. The first jump was a success but he to fell, along with all of his comrades, into the depths of the steam chasm, impaling themselves on the stalagmites. After some quick healing and skillful rope use, the party moved on to a room filled with bees. A quick burning hands spell from delving killed them all and the party move on once again.

A long corridor lay before the party and once most of the party was more than half way down the hall, a huge net fell from the ceiling, covering Khael and Delvin. This didn’t seem so bad at first but Khael, being a man of the cloth, had no edged weapons of which to cut his way to freedom. Had he been along, he surely would have died of starvation instead of what happened next. A horn blew and the call of the wild was out. Works, complete with their goblin, lance wielding riders, charged the party from all angles ran through Thorin and Gren, although not before both served their purpose and defeated many of the riders. While they lay dieing on the ground, grasping for breath, the remainder of the party barely survived themselves. Aid was quick in coming, and just in time too, had they waited another moment, Thorin would have had his name penned in the dead book for sure, with Gren following soon thereafter. Khael’s supply of healing spells was quickly running low; luckily the goblins had a cache of healing potions in store. Enough to cure everyone to full vitality with enough for every member to carry one for himself. The goblins room was a filth hole but his is were the party recuperated until they decide on their next move.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 29, 2004)

*Session 5 Module A2 and the begining of a module called In the Abyss*

Here is session 5 and I need sleep. I will check the response tomorrow and add in the other sessions. This covers the end of A2 and the begining of a module called In the Abyss.



Gren carefully approached the intersection of the hall. He and his companions had been through many hard and tiring adventures as of late but his keen mind and persistent discipline would not allow him to waver in his commitment to test and track his movements. 



“The passage ahead is clear my friends,” Gren said, and as he spoke the words he took a fateful step forward, and before he had a chance to correct himself, a loud barking began to echo up and down the hall. At first the sheer volume of the place gave the illusion that the sound was coming from behind, but it soon became apparent that the sound was coming from in front of them.



“Si’lo dath dah,” came the spidery words of magic from Gren’s mouth as a spell escaped his lips. 



“Tentica huens fornicka,” came the simultaneous slippery words of his fellow spell caster and comrade, Thalus. Gren’s spell of silence affected the area of the corridor at the cross roads while Thalus’s Evard’s tentacles spells affected a greater surrounding area.



“Well, that is just great,” sarcastically said Khael, “now they can’t hear themselves being ripped to bits. Hey, how long does that spell last anyway.”



“Why don’t you take a long walk down the hall and find out,” replied Thalus with an evil sneer of his lip. Thalus waited a moment and then dispelled his spell.



From the journal of Thalus



We moved to the door and with a cautious hand, Gren opened the door. We didn’t burst into the door and charge at the first thing that moved, but we quickly wished we did. Markessa cast a lightning bolt down the corridor where we were standing. Such a perfect line of fodder, and we walked right into it. 



Quickly we moved into the room, goblins lined the top balconies and arrows rained down from above. We tried to find shelter from the storm of arrows by hiding under the recess, but a sinister trick was at hand, the two stuffed bears in the room were actually real Owl Bears. These creatures have a frightening array toughness with an uncanny offensive attack of claw, claw, beak. 



We found ourselves pinned down by the barrage of arrows, the owl bears and the destructive magic from the war wizard Markessa. She countered every spell I threw at her and managed to cast some of her own as well. The spells I did manage to get off were absorbed by some unseen magic barrier. In such cases she would use her sword to devastating effect, cutting the poor unfortunate Thorin to pieces. 



Delvin countered Markessa’s lighting bolt with one of his own, the bolt slew the bugbear and, as it Rica shade off of the walls, it took with it six other goblins and scorched me on my rump.



After a long struggle, we finally managed to get the upper hand and it was then that Markessa fled. I summoned a mount and gave chase, the freshly revitalized Thorin secure on my flank. Around the corner of the hall I went and at the cross roads I stopped. 







A man approached me, and gave his name as Blackthorn. I had no use for his name and declared him an enemy of all that is pure and attacked. This could have been my down fall as I watched in horror as the man turned from this form to that of an Ogre Magi. I could feel that he was trying to cast a charm spell on me, but my inherit Drow nature resisted this spell, I was not so luck the next time around as he cast a Cone of pure Cold and sent me to the realm of unconsciousness. 







I’m not sure what the after life looks like, but I imagine peace and tranquility. but what I saw was more akin to the dezions of the abyss swarming over my body and tearing it apart piece by piece as the Lady of Spiders, Loth, stood watch. If I live to be a 1,000 I shall never step foot into that accursed realm. I am not sure what happened next, only that I awoke to find my horse frozen solid and myself not in any better shape. Blackthorn turned to a gaseous form and had flown away so we made the decision to go to the nearest door and find Markessa. In side the room an elf warrior was busy practicing on training dummies and this time I calmed my dark side and parlayed with the man.



He spun us a sad tale of how Markessa had turned him from a ugly elf to a man of stunning beauty with a horrible surgery, his scars were still see on the back of his neck. He told an other tale of his true love, the woman who looked like Markessa but was not Markessa. Markessa had taken a female human and turned her into a female elf that looked just like her. She then brainwashed the elf to act and think just like her in every mannerism, she even taught her some of her magic skills too. The elven fighter agreed to help us as long as no harm befell his beloved. 



He led us to another room, Markessa’s private bed room, and here was Markessa, calmly fixing her makeup, and then in an instant she was gone. She had made herself invisible, but Khael would not allow such a thing to go on and he dispelled her invisibility and she fled again to a room with a single pentagram on the floor. It was here that we learned of her true nature as she summoned a demon with six arms to deal with us. Ripsal she called her, and she was sinister. Rather than kill us, she sent us to the planes of hell. Not a very nice place this Nine Hells. With some effort we woke Thorin up and he plane shifted the party to Sigil, the way station of the universe. 



Sigil, the city of doors, a plane of infinite portals. It was here that we choose to rest and regain our strength. A quick commune to Pelor assured us that Venotheeb had finished what we started in the Hillfort by banishing the demon and rallying the slaves into a revolt and the over throw of Markessa and her timely escape. With the Hillfort taken, we were free, for the moment, to pursue other interests, unfortunately I did not plan on Willum. Willum offered the party an obscene amount of gold and jewels to travel into the abyss and retrieve a ship that was stolen from the general insurance company of Sigil. After some debate we decided the money was to good to pass up and off to the abyss we went. 



We had a couple of days to get our affairs in order, but after that it was off to Natasha’s barber shop where the portal to the first layer of the abyss was. With a rusted piece of metal thrust into the door way the portal sprang into life and in we went. Once on the other side we were accosted by a demon known as Molyduce. Molyduce had two heads, one serpentine and the other canine, and when he talked it was an eerie mix of the two heads finishing off each others words. Words got us no were as we were not able to parlay our intent to him since we had no funds in which to bribe him with and it was against our nature to turn over a member of our party to be abducted into the blood war. So, when Khael cast a blessing on the party, it was recivied as an act of war. We tried to kill him quickly but Molyduce was a strong enemy. He escaped us, but I fear we have not heard the last of Molyduce. 



All around us nothing but despair. Why did we come to this realm. No matter, nothing can be done about that, we have only our wits and our skills and we shall need them both to get out unscathed, but which way to go?


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 30, 2004)

*Session 6 Module In the Abyss*

New character enters the mix:
Stonecracker boulderwacker, Dwarven paladin/dwarven Defender

and his Halbred:

Lawbringer - Lawbringer is intelligent and the weapon is unique as it has a hammer on one end, flip it over and it acts as an axe and it also has a spear point so the wielder can do any of the three types of damage.

*     *     *​ 

“Hail to you yon adventures,” exclaimed Stonecracker Boulderwhacker, ”what brings a Githyanki and his odd mix of companions to the depths of the Abyss?” Out of the rust red mists of the Abyss stepped a stocky figure of a man, barrel chested, yet obviously well muscled; he strolled with ease through the thick sands of the Abyss. Armored from head to toe in finely crafted, glistening gleaming plate armor that proudly bared the gauntlet fist of Helm on his breastplate, and all manner of sheaths and straps held various hammers and axes for every occasion. The dwarven knight walked with an air of confidence, secure in his own ability to smite the forces of evil.
“I see that you bear the burden of Helm,” said Khael, ”we are on a hunting mission to retrieve a piece of lost property, what brings you to such an inhospitable place.”

“I am Stonecracker Boulderwhacker, and I was drinking to the conquests of Helm when a evil cleric of Cyric ambushed me and the next thing a knew, I awoke on the abyss. Luckily I still had my trusted pig sticker,” said Stonecracker Boulderwhacker as he pat his faithful halberd. The wicked weapon was imposing indeed, one end had a curved blade of an axe with a keen edge and the opposing side bared a heavy hammer while the center of the weapon held a large spike. The polished wooden handle glowed slightly with every swing as the blade of the weapon sang a song of war with every slash, thrust and impact of the mighty weapon. 

“For a score of nights plus three I have wondered the abyss, slaying man and beast and demon alike. Were it not for the lack of food and drink in this gloom of doom I think I should find this plane a home for a while, while I teach the bidding of Helm to all who ask and deliver his judgment on those that don’t. Say young whelps, what property is it that you said you seek and per chance do you have a wheel of cheese and a draft of ale, I am a bit parched and lacking of food. I am a light eater, as are all dwarfs you know.”

“We didn’t say what we are looking for and it is none of your concern,” snapped Thalus with a sneer at the dwarf. He obviously didn’t believe that the dwarf was a light eater, he knew to many dwarves in his days.

“Thalus, hold your tongue, do you know no pity or compassion. Here brave dwarf, have some cheese, I have plenty. Gren, some ale for our new friend, for I am a cleric of Pelor the Sun God and I recognize a brother when I see one.”

“I am Gren, a treasure hunter and seeker of fortune and these are my companions, Thalus the good hearted Drow elf, a wizard of great power, Delvin a half fire elemental who has been trained in both the arts of wizardry and warrior, Thorin, a Githyanki psionic warrior and hunter of illithids and our ever friendly and cheerful cleric Khael whom you have just meet. We are in search of a ship, we can confer no other information than that as we don’t even know what it looks like but has been described as having the looks of nothing we have ever seen before.”

Stonecracker Boulderwhacker Accepted the bread and cheese and ale from the group of stout hearted adventures and listened intently to the introductions. At the mention of the ship his jaw dropped and apiece of cheese fell from his mouth and landed in his beard, a look of horror filled his now pale skin. He regained his composure and, being a dwarf and not wanting to waste the precious meal, folded his beard to his mouth and ate the cheese from the braided beard and wiped the corners of his parched lips with the ends of his beard.

“I think I have seen your ship, bigger than anything I have ever seen it was. The construct had to be at least 300 feet long, probably longer. It was maybe 80 or 100 feet wide and at least 100 feet tall. They’re where two heads, one facing forward, the other to the rear. Each head was a colossal face as wide and as tall as the ship. They both had glassy eyes, protruding noses, and gaping mouths full of teeth the size of tavern doors. Not the small tavern doors of the human city folks, but the great tavern doors of the great dwarven bars. I have seen the ship you seek several leagues behind me and I know it is the object which you seek as I have never seen such a thing in all my long hard three years in the dwarves navy.”

The party stood in silence, unable to decide which it believed less, the description of the ship, the fact that the dwarf had survived out in the hostile environment of the Abyss or that there really was a dwarves navy.

“If you will have us, come and join us. You seem to know the ways of the Abyss and have knowledge in which we seek, we on the other hand, can offer you food, ale and the chance to smite evil, what say you, will you join our merry band,” offered Gren, with an out stretched hand.

“If I will have you, if you will have me it should be said. If you are on the side of the righteous and will honor my beliefs as your own than a friend and companion you have found. Follow me my young lads and I shall show you to this ship you seek. Say now cleric of Pelor, what other kinds of wondrous food stocks do you hold in the backpack of yours.”

“ So, a dwarven navy?” Inquired Khael as he absentmindedly passed another hunk of cheese to the stout dwarf.

“Oh, a glorious navy it is too, the dwarves invented the navy you know. We are as natural swimmers as we are runners you know. Let me share the tale with you over a flagon of ale and perhaps later I shall tell you of the five years I spent in the dwarven air force.”

Khael extended his drinking flask as his jaw hit the floor.


From the journal of Stonecracker Boulderwhacker

Today I have met a hardy group of adventures and have agreed to show them to the ship of chaos. We traveled many leagues to reach the city of raazorforge where the ship was anchored. First a most perplexing riddle of a beggar who only moaned for food. The beggar was actually an illusion created by a creature known as a cranium rat. One cranium rat is pretty much just like a normal rat, save their great size, however, should many gather together in one area they have the uncanny ability to create illusions and attack as one with bolts of pure energy. We struggled slightly with these creatures before they dispersed. 

After collecting our wits we moved on and encountered a band of adventures who where in the same situation as myself, a terrible aliment that gnaws on your insides and consumes your every moment of existence until you wish that you where dead, the bane of all dwarven kin - they suffered from hunger and thirst.

They too had encountered the cranium rats and had driven them off but in their case the rats gathered and returned later at night and stole their food. It broke my heart to give them food as my own appetite was not yet quenched but luckily for me they passed on the remains of the roasted rat that I had left, tastes like chicken you know. We gathered some valuable information and parted as friends. Perhaps we shall meet again down the road.

A few leagues further brought us to the lakes of molten iron. Here we witnessed an effreeti being chased by a pack of wild Varrangoin, terrible blood sucking, and winged bat like creatures with skulls for heads. The Varrangoin drove off the effreeti and that is when a Glabrezu named G’oud’neejh haled our party and asked to parley with us. The conversation was mostly one sided and we talked our way out of any potential conflict. We left on good parting terms with him giving us five diamonds, each worth five hundred gold galleons and a coin engraved with his name on the back. He said we could use it to summon him if ever we need his help. After much debate Thalus gave the coin to his bat and ordered him to take the coin and throw it into a ravine.

Delvin, a fairly skilled metal smith, though not by dwarven standards, used this pause in our adventures to gather some of the molten metal from the lake to use for further development into arms and armor.

Finally we reached the city of raazorforge and were approached by a beautiful woman dressed in tattered wizard robes. She confessed to being lost in the abyss and seeks a way to get back home. After much debate we agreed to accept her into our fold but only if she would relinquish her spell components to us as a safety measure. She agreed, but only if I were the one to hold the spells components and only if I would swear to keep her from harm of any kind. Being a paladin of Helm, I could not refuse such a charge and readily agreed.

We boarded the ship in thanks to Sharazar, the fore mentioned mage. She used a spell to teleport the whole of the party on to the deck of the ship. It seemed to misfire though because we landed in the brig. We would later come to find out that the only place you can teleport to on the ship was the brig as it was a safe guard against others teleporting straight on the ship or the navigation room. In the brig we met a man named Hugh and he is crazy, that is what the others called him, but I can never tell, the temperament of humans seems all the same to me. He did keep referring to the two dead tied bodies, and the one that was still alive, as razor vine and also kept feeling everyone’s head to see if we had fevers. Regardless, I decided to rush him and knock him out but the slave girl, falcate, drew a hidden dagger and killed him with one swift blow to the back. We eventually tied and gagged her and questioned the other for information. His name was Curly, and had he not of stunk of evil we would have freed him and brought him into our fold, as it was, we gathered what information we could and then squeezed through the bars, or rib cage of the ship. 

We explored the holding room of the ship. Obviously the ship must still be preparing to take on a crew, as much of the ship was still empty. However, we did find a ballista room filled with Dretches who manned the weapons against any who should take the ship from the out side. Unfortunately for them I am skilled on sticking them with pig sticker from the inside and made short work of them. We made our way back to the main hold and contemplated how to get through the only entrance to the other areas of the ship - through the giant hole in the ceiling of the ship.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 30, 2004)

*Session 7 Module In the Abyss*

Session 7 was a bit shorter as most of the gaming night was spent arguing over what to do next and the fight with the demon

*     *     *​
Session 7

From the thoughts of “Drugar” Lawbringer in the common tongue

With every cut I feel empowered, with every swing a rush, with every death, life. Feed me that demon blood and I shall protect you well, let me drink from the darkness that you may walk in the light. My master joined an odd host of companions and ever since, I have drank. 

We have entered the ship of Chaos and my master was kind to say the least. A blood bath of a battle quickly erupted and I found myself saving the day, I slew many, the fact that it was my masters hand that held me holds no relevance, with out me they would have all died.



Dozens of lesser demons filled the ship and released the holding pens while a host of Vrocks assailed us from above. It was through my divine might that the others lived to see the light of day. They are so dim witted, they had no idea that a Maralith, a six armed demon of the abyss, was after their souls. Had it not once again been for me, they would have all perished. Perhaps one day I will not heed the call of my master, perhaps I shall not aid him in his time of need, perhaps, but for now, I drink.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 30, 2004)

*Session 8 & 9  Module In the Abyss and the begining of A3 Assult on the Aerie*

After the battle with the Marilith, the adventures gained partial control of the ship, but the ship itself had control of where it was going and it brought the adventurers to a city that was in the heart of the first layer of the abyss. There, there was a tower which the adventures sought shelter from the chaotic fighting in the streets, but to their surprise, the tower was the hide out of those that sought the ship for themselves. A host of demons and devils and cultists had been fighting over the cntrol of the sip when they walked in. Things were about to break into a fight when one of the Balor demons suggested a game of chance with a deck of many things to settle the matter.

* * *​Session 8 and 9

Thalus’s journal

It was a game of chance, a game of fate, a game of death. 42 cards in a magical deck filled with the chaotic energy of the abyss. The deck of many things is but a pass time of the demons that haunt the abyss, but for us it was a nightmare world come true. While the minions of the abyss hardly lift a finger to face the threats and rewards of the deck, myself and my companions struggled through many different twists and turns and challenges. 

Why, on my first draw proved this point as my very soul was ripped from my body and imprisoned on another plane. I will not write here of the horrors that I endured in that foul place, for time worked much differently in that realm, what was but minutes in our world was centuries on that dreaded world. I have suffered for that journey, though you could not see it by the look of me, unless you gazed in my eyes, there the eyes hold my true age. You can never hide the truth behind the stare. I have suffered, and of it I shall speak no more.

A twisted and warped game it was, with an out come that I had little say in, indeed, by the time I returned to my body the strange world of my imprisonment stripped much of my memory from me for no one call recall a certain day five centuries pasted. I had to rely on accounts of others, the dwarf, whom I dislike for his holier than thou approach to life, had suffered a similar imprisonment, and while he claims it was nothing compared to his five year stint as a prison warden, I can tell the experience left him emotionally scared. The cleric Khael suffered a deconstruction of his very being, every fiber of his body was ripped away and his soul scattered amongst the devouring gods of the beyond. For all that was bad, there also was some that was good. Khael had also drawn a card that twisted his fates and reversed his inexistence. Gren gained a sizable keep and the Githyanki gained in strength and power. Through some complex scoring system we came away as the victors and the demons of the abyss were forced to comply and destroy the ship. 

We retreated to sigil where we found Willum. Willum, I never thought I would see that one again. He kept his word and paid us well, plus a bonus, he gave us a house, a house in sigil. Can’t say that I much care for the location, I prefer to keep my feet on the Prime material plane, but the house is nice. 

I had little time to recover from my ordeal for I was reminded that the slaves still needed to be freed. We have the location of the Isle of the slave lords and it was with great speed and much urgency that we traveled to the coastal town of Jerkin. Here we found our first clues as to where it was that we needed to be. A well-planned ambush left the slavers dead and a well place speak with dead spell allowed us to divine the location of the Isle. We made our way there with great haste.

Our party has done well, we have made our way through a secret underground passage to a gate hidden by bushes and shrubs, The passage must have run far underground, for the hill is on an island in the center of a large crater lake. Our group came out on the rocky slopes of a hill in the shadow of an extinct volcano, Mt. Flamenblut, below us lies the island — _the_ _Aerie of the Slave Lords!_ It is now clear why no military force could ever make a successful assault — the one pass that leads from the known Drachensgrab trails to the Slave Lords' stronghold is narrow and winding; a small force could effectively guard it and destroy all enemies. Even if an army could force its way through the pass, it would have no way to cross the Crater Lake.

We emerged high above our goal: the hidden city of Suderhom. Its mighty walls make it impregnable, so a more subtle method of entry is called for. We observed Suderham from afar for the rest of the afternoon, Patrols on the wall and in the streets are frequent, more so in the western section than the lower-class southeastern section. Public disturbances appear to be punished quickly and harshly. It is time to review our situation. 

The kings, dukes, and lords who hired us have mode well on their part of the bargain, healing and resurrecting my comrades who were wounded or slain. In our previous adventures we lost some magic items but obtained others, and we now find ourselves equipped as indicated, Ready for action, we descend toward the ramshackle buildings and dock area outside the city walls.

In the slum sections outside the city, we encountered a dozen or so richly-attired people in fine silken robes disdainfully making their way toward the city gate, Guessing them to be buyers of slaves, our party ambushes and subdues the frightened aristocrats without difficulty. We learned from them that Suderham is known as the City of the Nine — the nine dreaded Slave Lords.

It is an imposing stronghold, guarded by elite troops culled from the races of the dozen or more lands where the slavers hold sway. We have learned that within the city is a well-guarded stronghold — impossible for so small a party as ours to penetrate. However, there are rumors of subterranean passageways beneath the city, used only by the Slave Lords and their agents. Certain contacts in the city gave us clues, which we used to find this passageway.

A search of our prisoners reveals papers that will grant entry into the city, and their fine robes effectively cover our armor if no one looks too closely, we have chosen to enter the city at sunset to improve our disguise and to avoid unnecessary encounters and challenges. Tying up the prisoners, we also realize we must act quickly. Guards might find your prisoners, or escaped enemies from previous adventures might arrive to give warning of your coming. One of your prisoners laughs before you gag him: "You fools! The Slave Lords know everything their enemy’s do! You haven't a chance.”

I shall show him who knows what. Gren proved to be a valuable member to the team; it was he that deciphered the strange and cryptic messages from the underground resistance that is entrenched in this city of sin. Finger jestures, hand movements and head nodes meant little to me, but they spoke volumes to him and he knew well what it is we must do and where it was that we must go. I have suffered much for the freedom of these slaves and now the slave lord will pay ten fold for every atrocity visited on these innocent folks. They shall feel Drow vengeance.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 30, 2004)

*Session 10&11 module A3 Assult on the Aerie of the Slave Lords*

Ajakstu weaved an intricate spell of divination upon the glass orb and closed his eyes. He felt the magic surge into him and flow through his veins as he blocked out all distractions from with in his spell chamber. Loosing himself to the crystal ball before him, Ajakstu, newest member of the Slave Lords, gentle closed his grasp on his beloved staff. Though his magical skill and might in the arts arcane were regarded as above par, he trusted in his staff, for this staff of power had helped him reach the heights of power he swims in today and though it no longer is a crutch to attain power it is now, as it has been, a good safe guard. His staff, he never lets it out of his sight.

“Well,” remarked an impatient Mordrammo, “what is it you see.” Mordrammo tried in vein to peer into the crystal ball, but to no avail, for when he looked into the ball all he saw was a crystal ball of finely crafted glass. Mordrammo was an impatient man with a quick temper, but in spite of that, he remained surprisingly calm and collected when it came to matters of business or combat. Little in the world could goad him into action that would be later deemed as unwise. For a score of years plus three he has served the Slave lords as the high priest. He knew his own worth and that rushing to conclusions could be bad for business, let alone his life.

“They have found the sea wall entrance and slew the gnoll guards in the salt shaft,” said Ajakstu, straining to get a better picture. “They have by passed the electric trap and the rope pit. They are a cleaver lot this group.”

“Don’t be quick to give them too much credit,” came the cold reply from Brother Milerjoi, “they have no discipline, no self control. You told me yourself they fight amongst themselves every inch of the way.” Brother Milerjoi was a member of the scarlet brotherhood, a group of nomadic monks that enclosed themselves in their mountain palace, far removed from the outside world, trying to find enlightenment. Brother Milerjoi and his apprentice left that shelter to bring enlightenment to the masses and joined the Slave Lords to that end.

“Yes,” came a reply from Feetla, “but remember the raid on Glintsa, that savage and undisciplined lot of nomadic barbarians almost proved our undoing. Sometimes wisdom is not enough, sometimes brute strength is more than you need.” Feetla was their trusted and charismatic leader. His naval strength and cunning have often been attributed to the success of the Slave Lords as a whole.

“Where are they now?” 

“They have just defeated Kilhornji,” calmly stated Ajakstu.

“What, that is impossible, no one has ever been able to defeat that beast, the monster can jump through shadows and distort the eyes of those that look upon him.”

“Calm down Mordrammo.”

“I will not calm down Brother Milerjoi, if they have defeated Kilhornji, that means they have bested the flesh golem, the very golem we had equipped with armor bolted onto his skin to make him impregnable. The very best Ajakstu said would stop anyone who crossed its path. 

“That means that they also made it past the roper, who’s very tough can turn others to stone or control their minds. And let us not forget your hired hand Wimpell Frump. Your gnome illusionist didn’t prevent them from finding the secret door that lead into our inner sanctum. The Aerie of the Slave Lords has been breached; we should flee before we die.

“Get a hold of your self master Mordrammo, I have need of you,” said Feetla, “I have need of all of you. Yes, they have breached our inner sanctum, but they shall not drive us from our home. We have fought to hard to attain what we have to let a rag tag rabble crew from the combined might of the kings chase us away.”

“You have a plan,” questioned Brother Milerjoi, “ as always?”

“Take your positions in the throne room, we have a long forgotten ally,” said Feetla.

“Who?”

In response to Mordrammo’s question a dark figure, and another, emerged from the shadows. Everyone knew Nerelas, the chief assassin of the Slave Lords, but it was the other that had accompanied him from the journey through the shadow realm. They all knew her and hated her, for she had never really proven herself, not in the ways that the others had. Yes she showed promise and her numbers could not be denied, but her hunger for power was an unsettling pain in the ranks of the Slave Lords, so none allied with her and all watched their backs.

“Why the surprised look on your face, you thought I was dead, perhaps slain by the same band of adventures that stalks you now. So quick you all were to condemn me when you thought I had failed you all, now it looks as if you shall all fail and die in the process, why should I help you?”

Feetla’s features grew grim and his cold hard stare pierced into the woman’s soul, the seriousness of the look bringing a deathly silence to all in the room.

“Because we have a need of you Markessa and should provide us with that which we seek, you shall be given the one thing you have always craved, a seat on the Slave Lord council, should you fail, I‘ll leave that to your imagination.”

Markessa stared back at the hated glares of the five leading members of the Slave Lords and gave a nod.

“I know just what to do.”

* * *​“As you can see, the stone slab that fell behind you will prevent your escape and you are no match for our might. I would offer you the chance to parley before I accept your surrender. Do you have any last words before you chose to disarm yourself? I will give you the satisfaction of answering your questions, in honor of your bravery and brilliance for being the first to reach our inner sanctum, but after that, I expect that you will concede that you are over matched and surrender. Although, it may be fun to take you down by the sword, I could use a challenge, even is it is a minor one at best.” The five Slave Lords sat on their thrones, laughing, laughing, laughing; and the echoes in the chamber laughed along as well.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 30, 2004)

*Session 12 module Assult on the Aerie of the Slave Lords and the begining of A4*

 SOme of what the part did in the meat of the dumgeon is missing, but here is the final battle:

“Speak with me then master buccaneer, for I have in the past represented our intentions and I think for all involved I am their voice,” came a bold reply from Gren, his posture imposing, with an authoritive stance.

StoneCracker Boulderwhacker tried to get a word in at that moment but soon found himself smacking his meaty hand to his forehead when Gren continued before the mighty dwarf could speak.

“I have several questions for you master,” Gren paused for a dramatic effect.

“Feetla,” came the reply.

“Yes, well, Feetla, and you are,”

“How rude of me, please I should have given consideration to the possibility that you have not heard of us, of course introductions are in order,” came the confidant reply from Feetla, his ego shining through in the tones of his voice. 

Stonecracker took this time to stand to the left and forward of Gren and as he did so he fashioned his braided beard behind his head and tied it into a knot. Five years service in the dwarven army had shown him the value of not getting blood on ones beard before or during a good fight. While the introductions went on he loosened his stiff limbs with some rousing stretches, one hand over the head to the oppisite shoulder, twisting the waist and deep knee bends cause hot blood to flow to his vitail areas and prepare for diplomacy dwarven style.

“So you see Gren, it is a simple matter of profit versus risk, the risk is low and the profit margin high, surely you can see the sense in the making of money. In fact, if you take into account the current - “ At that moment a loud screeching noise filled the large chamber and all looked to the source as it was now Gren‘s turn to smack his hand to his forehead. Front and center stood StoneCracker Boulderwhacker, blunt end of his multi headed halberd screeching across the ground, grating like finger nails on a black board. It was a slow and distinguished screech, prolonged by that fact that he made a complete circle around his body just to make sure he had everyone’s attention.

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am StoneCracker Boulderwhacker, slayer of demons,” said Stonecracker as he patted his Maralith head hanging from his belt, “defender of truth and drinker of hardy provisions. Now, so my five years in the dwarven diplomacy squad was not in vain, would it be fair to say that you are creatures of evil, so I know that I am not killing those of the good persuasion, I would hate behead an innocent.” 

The features on Feetla grew grave, but Gren could not decide if it was from the daring speech the dwarf had just made or from the dwarf holding up his index finger, representing one, then pointing towards Ajaktsu, two fingers and pointing to Nerelas, so on and so forth, down the line until he had pointed to each and everyone of them, then hand clenched, his fist went straight into the air and he raised his index finger again and this time made a motion as if slitting his own throat. 

Feetla immediately stood but a motion from the dwarf held him in check.

“Hold,” boomed the dwarf and Feetla and the other slaver lords stopped dead in their tracks. “Come to me and kneel before me and I will give you a quick death, one swipe, clean cut to the neck, but no matter what happens master Feetla, I will kill you last.”

This enraged Feetla and at that second hell was unleashed. Feetla raised his crossbow and let loose a bolt from his bow, striking true to the chest of the mighty dwarf.

Ajakstu lost himself in his magic and let loose a spell of slowness on StoneCracker Boulderwhacker, slowing him where he stood, Brother Milerjoi also attack StoneCracker Boulderwhacker, gracefully throwing two daggers into the arms of StoneCracker, who only grunted at the pain. StoneCracker made a motion to engage the monk and found his reflexes not to be slowed as Ajakstu had intended, but he motioned himself in slow action to fool the rest of the slavers.

Mordrammo called to the heavens and released a jet of flame fro the sky, a pillar of flame that enveloped Devin, who only found joy in being wrapped in the life blood of his home plain. Devin retaliated with a deadly fireball which sent the slave lords scattering.

Nerelas and Gren both had the same idea in that they both turned invisible, and Khael rushed to the dwarfs side to heal his already accumulating wounds.

Feetla lifted another cross bow and let loose another bolt that found it’s mark in the dwarves hide.

“Fer that you just moved up in the list bub, LAWBRINGER” cried the dwarf, but the threat was made mute by the stunning blow from Brother Milerjoi, two pounding first of fury found their mark on the dwarves jaw, stunning the might dwarf for a moment. It was then that the dwarf decided that he had had enough of the falsehood of his slowness and with all his might cut the monk a mighty blow from hip to hip and then followed through with a hefty swing that found its mark straight and true to the monks neck.

“That’s one, who next?”

Ajakstu stood his ground as he locked his gaze at Devin, while Devin went through the motions of casting a spell; Ajakstu anticipated the spell and attempted to counter it with his own magic. Although Ajakstu was the mightier of the two, Devin proved more powerful in this one instance, he years of training and mastery of a single school allowing him to succeed where other would fail. A wall of fire soon erupted from the floor, covering the ground where the slavers stood, but Ajakstu held his ground, the flames not seeming to touch him, so it was Khael that cast the next spell and this spell too Ajakstu tried to counter but with his attention focused on Devin he did not see it coming until the spell was released and blades, shooting from the ground in a 45 degree angle, making short work of the arch mage, for what did not finish him of in the initial pass, did tear him to bits and pieces a moment later.

It was then that Khael, rejoicing in his kill, felt the bitter pain of a knife stab his back, paralyzing him as strange venom filled his body. His body slumped to the floor in a heaping mass as the nox visible Nerelas sipped a potion and then vanished yet again.

Gren had similar plans for Feetla, but the wall of fire and barrier of blades made getting to him impossible, so he attacked Mordrammo with his soul stealer blade. It struck home and drank deep and the cowardly cleric seemed to gain strength from a yet untapped source and raised his hand to the ceiling and called on his dark god for aid.

“May the power of the hand and the eye smith at thee and Vecna take thy soul,” cried the cleric as he traced a symbol of death in the air and Gren slowly felt his very soul being ripped from his body.

“Feel my steel insolent dwarf,” came the battle cry as Feetla balanced his rapier in his hand, expertly moving his sword back and forth, drawing the dwarf’s defenses down and then strike with his sword. StoneCracker got in a few mighty blows, but the sheer volume of attacks from the skilled buccaneer made short work of the dwarf and he too fell, but not before Feetla, battered and bruised from the dwarf’s powerful attacks, spat on the beard of the dying dwarf.

Devin advanced on the evil cleric of Vecna, his flaming sword brandished and ready from attack. Mordrammo backed into the corner, his wounds still to grave to attempt a counter attack, let alone a defense. Up went the sword, smoke and flame excited for the kill, down came the blade, landing on the ground at Mordrammo’s feet. Devin’s body fell to the floor, a gapping wound from his back told all.

“Gather your wits about you Mordrammo, there are council members that need to be brought back from the dead,” came the stone cold voice of the master assassin Nerelas. 

* * *​ 

The Heroes were captured and in some cases, brought back to life, and then interrogated. Each was placed with a collar; who’s lock vanished when placed around their throats. These collars prevented innate abilities from causing any mayhem and disrupted most spells and clouded the minds of spells casters.

The heroes have been kept in separate cells in a dungeon for an unknown period of time. The only clue as to the duration of their imprisonment is the fact that all of their wounds have healed, but that is of little consequence since the Slave Lords kept them drugged and tortured them to keep them weak. Spell-casters' spells are all long gone from their memories, cast in desperate and clever attempts to escape from the dungeon. Unfortunately, all attempts were failures, though they succeeded in giving the jailers a very hard time.

Clerics have received special treatment: the jailers, knowing that clerics can regain their spells by prayer after sufficient rest, have not allowed the clerics to sleep more than three hours in succession, and have given them even smaller rations of food and water than the other characters have received. Despite this treatment, the clerics' faith has enabled them to persevere, and the jailers have occasionally slipped up in their routine abuse. This has allowed the clerics to quickly pray for (and receive) spells useful to their current condition:* cure light wounds, purify food and drink (which doesn‘t seem to work on the drugs they give them), resist cold, create water.

*Something finally occurs to break the monotony of imprisonment: the stone shudders and the earth growls as a large tremor rocks the island. Dust filters down from the ceilings of the cells, and the adventurers can hear much shouting and commotion among their captors. After a short period, the doors to the dungeon clang open, and in walks the stronghold's evil High Priest, surrounded by guardsmen. 

"The Earth Dragon has spoken!" he announces. "He is hungry, and the time has come to feed you to him, as is our sacred custom. 0h miscreants, now you shall pay for the havoc you have wrought. Guards, subdue them with the Smoke of the Little Death."

He turns and leaves, and the guards go with him. Shortly, however, there is a click as a small aperture is opened in the dungeon door. Through it comes the end of a tube, which spews out the green sleep smoke the characters remember so well....

*Standard Dungeon Features

*The ceilings of all dungeon tunnels and chambers are approximately 10 feet high, except where otherwise noted. The tunnels vary from 6 to 12 feet in width, averaging about 9 feet wide. All tunnels and chambers are of fine sandstone, except in wet and drippy areas, where the walls are limestone. (This is strange geology for a volcanic island. Perhaps it can be explained by the legend that the Earth Dragon wanted a pleasant isle for his crater lake, so he carried away an entire tropical island and dropped it here.)

The floors of the tunnels and chambers are covered with fine sand to a depth of one foot. The floors in the limestone areas are generally smooth. Stalactites and stalagmites are too thick to break off.



The party awakens in a place where there is no light and no sounds but their own. Characters with infravision can ascertain that all party members are presented. The place they are in looks and feels like a natural cave, about 30 feet in diameter. There are four 10' high exit tunnels somewhat evenly spaced around the perimeter. Characters with infravision cannot see a ceiling; apparently it is too high. The floor is covered withsand.

None of the party have any possessions save a dirty cotton loincloth. They have no weapons, no food, nothing: only their wits, and a small closed cloth tube which rests on the floor in the center of the room. It is a foot-and-a-half long, about the size of a wand or scroll tube.

If the players look down the exit tunnels, they will see nothing down three of them, but they will see a distant, dim light down the fourth (northernmost) tunnel.

This light occasionally flickers and moves slightly. It is 110 feet to the ceiling of this room, where a heavy stone block plugs the hole the characters were lowered through. The walls are crumbly and will not support a climber's weight above a height of 15' even if the climber is using a* spider climb *spell to adhere to the walls.

The scroll tube is made of cloth, with a light wooden ring at each end to give it its shape The tube

contains three scrolls.

The tube also includes a note, it is to dark to read, even with infravision, but that matters not, the words glow with an eerie illumination and spring forth fro the page, dancing in the air, and for characters that are unable to read, a voice booms throughout the cavern reading the note: *"This is not the best I could do to help, but what fun would it be if I gave you your equipment back. May your gods be with you. If you escape, your equipment is being held on the Slave Lords' private boat, the Water Dragon, at the Suderham docks. *Signed Malik


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 30, 2004)

*Seson 13 module A4 In the Dungeons of the Slave Lords*

From the Journal of Stonecracker Boulderwhacker

We have had a time of it since our capture. Not since I served a five-year stitch as the jail warden in Dratchenduh warrens have I seen such cruelty, such inhumanity. Our capturers have tortured us to the brink of madness, inflicting every form of torture I know of, and a few new ones, but the worst of it is when they have deprived us of our six square meals a day, now that is cruel.

I thought I would go mad with hunger, until fate intervened in the form of the volcano starting an irruption. Thanks to the underground movement on the island we were able to escape, but only into danger. It was in the caves under the island to were we fled. Left in total dark and deprived of spells, weapons and food, we had to rely on skill and daring to get away. 

In the dark we crawled, heading for the only light we could see, a distant glow in a hall of gloom. It was then that a sand crawler attacked us from below. Were it not for the cleric calling forth water, we would have been ripped apart.

We turned from the light, hoping to find sanctuary in the dark, the light brought nothing but trouble. We crawled on hands and knees until we came upon a community of Myconid, or fungus men. I tell ya now, that as hungry as I was, those mushroom-headed people were lucky that I had no eggs and cheese or I would have made one large omelet. 

Their king agreed to show us to the surface if we would kill the giant crawfish in the cave beyond. We agreed and lured the crawfish down the cave with Gren as bait, and then used the scrolls we had to create a pit in the soft sand and then cover it with a wall of fog. With the death of the crawfish we earned our freedom and we were quick to take it.

Making our way to sun light we came upon a group of mercenaries bent on using the volcanic eruption as an excuse to loot the main fort of Sunderham. We attacked then and gain our first real weapons. Glad to feel the comfort of a sword in my hands we quickly made our way down to the docks were the remaining slave lords were loading loot into the water dragon, their galley. 

We hatched a plan to invade their ranks, but the cleric had the gift of true sight and spoiled our plan. It was an all out brawl after that. I ran straight for the female drow, and after asking her if she meant me ill will, I chopped off her head.

We slew all of our enemies save one, the mage escaped our grasp, but I fear (fine, he frets since he is immune to fear) that I have not seen the last of that one. So off into the sunset we sailed, our hearts full of thanks to be alive, our conscious at ease knowing that we have at least halted the slave trade and our purses happy for finally being full.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 30, 2004)

*Session 14 module Mausoleum of Lost Gods*

From the (semi) divine inspirational journal of his most high and mighty self, me, Khael the mighty (delusional)

It was at my daily Heroes feast that I first noticed that something was amiss, that Pelor was angry. It came in the form of shooting pain and nausea. Something was happening that had angered him greatly, I don’t think it was the time I left my boots on his alter or the fact that I partook of the sparsely clothed young 18 year old female recruits. I had a sense that it was something worse, something I could not have predicted. Then Pelor spelled it out for me, the temple of Pelor, in the city of Sigil, was under attack.

We girded our weapons and donned our armor and in a flash, well, after that last pheasant leg, we were gone. When we came to the temple, we could see it burning, but I know not if it was the fact that the strangers had dared to attack our sacred temple, or that it was burning, or if it was the source of the flame that stopped my heart, for before us stood a mighty pit fiend, a demon of the most foul kind.

His main was a lick of flame and with every step there erupted a bonfire of flame. In one had he wielded a whip, forged of molted lava, which he used with deadly accuracy to slay any followers of Pelor who approached, while in his other hand he held a massive flaming mace that burst anything it touched into flames, as it did to the temple with each mighty blow.

It was not just him, he was not alone.

A cleric of the veil god Vecna stood before the temple locked in a heated battle with the high priest. In the temple, more followers of Vecna swarmed the temple grounds, slaying any who bore the mark of Pelor, or who dared to help. We tried our best to aid my high priest, but we were unable to make a difference before the worshippers of Vecna retrieved a ancient artifact and then, in a flash, they we gone, leaving only the Pit Fiend, and two cloaked individuals, one cloaked in the shadows of his own cloak so deep you could not see his face and the other, similarly cloaked, but he wore a mask, clearly visible, mocking any who saw it with pain and suffering.

We had no chance to deal with the cloaked figures as they vanished into the crowd, we had a Pit Fiend on our hands. He was massive, towering at more than fifty feet. He had a time of it and had he not used his most potent spells on the followers of the temple of Pelor, we would not have been a match for him. Luck was on our side and we slew him, but not before he finished off the temple.

Later we would come to find out that the clerics of Vecna attacked the temple of Pelor in hopes of getting the Ring of Pelor, an artifact of great magic and power. Evil is not even allowed to touch it, not with out great harm inflicted upon them, but when used be evil, in the Mausoleum of Lost Gods, it could be used to open a portal in the Gem of Oblivion, to release the trapped souls of Vecna. This was told to us by a Man, no, strike that, a God, who could not come before us in Sigil since gods are not allowed in the city plane, rather he approached us in the keep we took over from the slavers. He explained that he was a God, a long lost god of misery and suffering and he would like to put an end to his life. When the Gods wish to die, they must travel to the Mausoleum of Lost Gods and step into the leathe arch way so there powers can be consumed by the Gen of Oblivion, thus killing them. He shared this information about Vecna with us in hopes that while we were there anyway, we would kill him. With a swift yes, we agreed and accepted reckoner, a plain looking dagger, which we would soon come to find could cut through just about anything, even god flesh.

Unknown to us at the time, by crushing the gem, we were transported just outside the Mausoleum of Lost Gods on a road, and before us stood the followers of Vecna. We wasted no time in casting spells to bring our enemies down, but it was then that we noticed that magic would not work in this plane, later we found out it was cause we were not so much on a plane as we were on the body of Xerxanch, the beholder god, who is as big as a small moon and it was actually one of his mountain sized eye stalks that deprived us of magic, it was another mountain sized stalk that turned on us and transferred our souls from body to body. It was then that we had a moment of opportunity to strike a decisive blow with magic, while one stalk closed and the other opened.

We then came upon a chasm, on which the other side stood the Mausoleum of Lost Gods guarded by Wayfickle, the guardian, a huge frost giant. Him to we had to defeat without magic, but Xerxanch switched our souls again and again in the brief pause were we could use magic, we slew the guardian and grabbed his key. 

In side the Mausoleum of Lost Gods we saw a huge iron door close, the robes of the clerics of Vecna just a split second before us. We tried to follow, but the magic of the Mausoleum of Lost Gods rest all tricks and traps and relocked all the doors. In this doors were nine key holes, but we had no keys. Nine other rooms filled the Mausoleum of Lost Gods and in each room was a puzzle that would lead us to a key. Many of times we came close to our own death, while some of the rooms hardly presented a challenge for us. The hardest was the last as it was the one where we had to sacrifice one of our souls for the final key. In the end the stout of heart dwarf took a step forward and gave his life so we may have a chance to stop the spread of evil. 

With heavy hearts we went into the main hall of the Mausoleum of Lost Gods and opened the forbidden doors. Inside the clerics of Vecna had just completed the dark ritual, which consumed the lives of the remaining followers, leaving only the high priest and two clocked figures. The Gem of Oblivion shook and trembled and then a burst of energy shot through the gem and into high priest, transforming him into the avatar of Vecna. It was then that I remembered the Talisman of pure good and before Vecna had a chance to fully for his avatar, I split the Tailsman of pure good in two and a deep rumble erupted from the ground as a crack that lead to the pits of hell opened under the feet of the almost avatar of Vecna, consuming him in a flash of brimstone and ash.

The two remaining clocked figures, the one with his head buried deep into his hood and the other with the frightful mask, then disappeared, gone from the realm. However, I think I have not heard the last of Vecna or his cult.

Now we stood before Death of Gods and it was then that Azreal transformed from a flake of skin on my clothes into his more godly figure, that of a old man in tattered robes and decaying skin and the stench of death.

Now he revealed his master plan, Gods can not enter the Mausoleum of Lost Gods and keep there powers, but if someone does it all for them, then they can face Death of Gods with all their might. Azreal and Death of Gods both drew forth Ghostly Scythes that made the ears cringe with pain when they struck each other. Three times we tried to aid in the fight, he was immune to our magic, as I am now sure most divine beings are. Three times Gren stabbed him with Reckoner, the mighty blade that could cut through anything. The damage from the blade did not really seems to play a factor into the battle, it was obvious that Azreal felt the sting of the blade, but the true damage came from the distraction the Gren made with the mighty blows of the dagger. It was then the Azreal pulled Reckoner from Gren’s hand and summoned four shades to fight by his side. We made short work of them, Pelor is mighty and wise and in his wisdom he granted my dominion over these creatures and destroyed them with his hate. It was then that he heard a familiar voice.

“A Maralith head, a frost giants toe, and now the heart of god, good thing you keep me well feed with exotic fair or I would take my leave,” came a cry from the Leathe arch way as Stonecracker Boulderwacker took a step our of the arch, picked up Reckoner and ran with all his might, plunging Reckoner straight for Azreal’s black heart.

Cursing for not saying law bringer, even though it was not his magical halberd, he kicked the skull of the dieing Azreal. In the end we were victorious and Death of Gods granted each of us a wish. Hmm, what should I wish for?


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 30, 2004)

*Session 14 1/2 Module Vecna Lives*

Here the party sarts the module Vecna Lives.  As per the module I had them play out the role of the high level mages.  This is that tale.

Oh, the life of a powerful wizard! As a callow youth, you were certain it was the life of luxury and excitement - easy living, riches and power with the wave of a hand.
Of course, your old masters never told you about the other part - the responsibility for the lives of the entire villages, cities and even lands. Of course, it's and honor to be part of the Circle of eight, guiding and protecting Hawking. Naturally, you have to do it all in secrecy so you don't mock the mayor's authority, and equally naturally you never get the credit.

Now, through divinations (or rather their failure), you've sensed some great danger to Hawking. It is not just you either; all of your fellow wizards at the guild of Wizardry have sensed something ominous. Whatever it is, Veenotheb, leader of your circle, is worried. He wants the best, the cream of the crop, to investigate this mystery.

“I have found an entrance to the tomb,” he heard the eager flamboyantly dressed mage say, “it looks like the whole mound is covering the tomb.”

“Let us descend and be quick about it,” he heard the fat mage declare, “I have an ill feeling about this place.”

In side the darkness of his prison he waited, as he did for over a thousand years, through the passage of time and the decay of earth, through famine and flood and now mischance, he waited. He was almost free, he could wait a little longer. He felt their presence through the walls, the walls he could not breach, whether through magic or might. Oh, he had tried, but the wards of his prison were enchanted by magic from another circle of eight, a circle who existed many centuries before these novices, and their magic was strong. Alone one of those mages could have stood toe to toe, they would in all likelihood die by his hand, but they would have had a chance; but together they had forged a prison that he could not escape and it was here that he rotted for centuries, waiting, biding his time. Now, this new circle of eight, with but a fraction of that power which was used to bind him, was his one chance to survive, to thrive, to live.

“I must test this new circle and their magic,” he said and he reached out with his arcane power that only he could control and from the elemental plane of fire he pulled three large fire frogs. Each stood taller than a human and there mouths were wide enough to swallow a human whole. Fire replaced their tongues and they belched sulfur. 

The circle used powerful magic to disintegrate the frogs into neat piles of ash.

“They are strong in magic, but not to bright,” he said to himself. He often talked to himself for lack of anything else to do; he wasn’t worried, he never answered himself, so he was not insane, by his standards. 

“See how they are breaking down the magic barrier, they remove the seals from the other side, something I could not do from my vantage point, but nice of them to help me out. Oh, to bad they did not examine the other side of the wall they just torn down. Shh, they approach Juritgress.”

He watched as the circle entered the next chamber and carefully examined the large great dragon that slept before them. “See how that wild dressed one takes charge, Tenser I think his name is, he shall bare watching. Poor Juritgress, he sleeps, for he is my guardian and since I can not pass this camber he knows he need not be awake. The whole army of the Kron hills could parade in his chamber and he would not know, for he has nothing to awaken him if other approach from the out side of the chamber, he was placed here to keep me in, not prevent others from coming in. 

“Oh, that was impressive, disintegrate spells, fireballs, lightning bolts and meteor swarms, fairly typical spells for mages, and effective too, I can barely watch, well, barely. Ooo, that had to hurt, that mage died in a pool of acid, but the dragon died too, they are strong, but I think they are still not that bright. Well, at least one of them has a wish spell, that dead fellow looks none the worse for wear.

“Oh, I can’t stand it, see how they opened the second seal, I am all a tingle. I wonder if they can defeat the Mageistra. Few mages know how to defeat a golem totally immune to magic you know. Yes, very typical, again with the lightning and fireballs. Hmm, that fellow there, the chubby one with the mace, he has it figured out, or is he just out of mass killing spells and has gotten lucky. Of course you know that summon spells are a mages only defense against a creature totally immune to magic, for one the summoned creature takes form they are in this world as real creatures until dismissed, not some type of energy. There, the other have caught on too.

“I must retire now, while they are still out side, for they will be in this chamber soon enough and I have spells to prepare.

“The third seal is breached, I am free, but I will wait, I know, summon some imps to deal with them, then I will strike.

“These imps are yours,” said Tenser to the others, “I know that you can handle them and I have a feeling about that sarcophagus. Evil is thick in the air and it comes from that direction,” he yelled as he pointed to the stone sarcophagus. As he did so he unleashed magic towards the sarcophagus, but before it reached the stone coffin, it dissipated.

“Fools, you have released me, I am Vecna! Vecna! You have released me unto the world and the world will weep again at my return!”

“See how they stand still in the air, trapped in time. Really, it is too bad that they can not move,” said Vecna as he reached for the throat of Otiluke and crushed his wind pipe with his withered hand and again he reached out and snapped the neck of Otto in much the same matter. While he did this with the withered limb, he also reached down in side himself and used the power of his withered eye to charm the spiteful and resourceful Tenser.

“Such is the pity that they reek of good, this one would have made a good captain,” said Vecna as he crushed the throat of Bigby and then Drawmji and then turned his withered eye on Rary, who also fell to the evil of the eye.

“To bad, see how easy they die, just the snap of the finger,” said Vecna as he crushed the throats of Jallarzi and Nystul and then dismissed the rest of the summoned creatures. “Come you two, I am Vecna, your new lord, you are my servants and I have much for you to do.

Tenser and Rary turned towards their new master and bowed.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 30, 2004)

*Session 15&16 Module Vecna Lives*

This is te next part of vecna lives, but I wanted to run one low level bar fight for them to have fun with, so I had them make henchmen to travel to Hawking (my substitute for Grey Hawk).  Towards the end of session 16, the main characters come back in.

From the pages of Oaklin the Half-Elf
Living in the City of Hawking I have seen all manner of strange things come and go, but none stranger than the night when I walked in to the Pleasant Pheasant an saw the mob of cultists attacking a small band of adventures who hailed from the outpost of Hilltop. Ettins where a come thing in the mountains just to the east of hawking, but not so much in the town itself, let alone a bar with such a low ceiling as the Pleasant Pheasant. Then there were the cultists to explain.

Never before had I seen such a strong group of foes battle such a small band of misfits. To my surprise they turned the tide of the fight to their advantage, but then the bigger Ogre ran though the door to give chase and then fell over dead, or what I thought had been dead, for in future moments his master Khael administered aid to his fallen henchman. In the door way stood a man, short but sturdy, who wielded daggers with an uncanny grace. He entered the room and continued the grim work where his friends had failed.

I thought my luck had finally run out when the heroes of the slave wars had come to our rescue, arriving in a flash of light to save the day and our lives. Here I was face to face with the very men of power who had single handedly destroyed the slave trade on the coast of the Land Locked Sea. 

Star struck as I was, it came as a shock that their very henchmen came to seek me out, for I alone in the city of Hawking had information that they needed. I lead them through the sewers of Hawking to the remains of the cult of Vecna, where an elaborate plan was hatched to strike a blow to the heart of Vecna’s operation within the city of hawking. 

I must admit that for most of the fight I can’t remember much. I remember leading them down to the sewers of the hawking were we where confronted by the leaders of the Shadow guild, a group of assassins who have their hand into every affair of state and beyond. They used magic to teleport us into the main temple of Vecna where a battle erupted. Then the robed cleric, the hooded one, stared at me with his head, for his head was not a head, but rather an eye, and I felt the very fabric of my being ripped from my body.

Later I learned that the being that took my soul was an abomination of sorts known simply as the Eye. He also had a companion who was known for the appendage that sprouted from his neck, thus he was called the Hand. The Eye seemed to be able to suck the very life from your body and was able to redirect magic back at it’s caster, while the Hand seemed to feed by draining the strength from your body and seemed a master of wielding daggers, faster than most could even see.

In the end we won that fight, somehow, and drove the head cleric and the Hand to another plane while the Eye seemed to die, freeing my soul back to my body. They have asked that I join them and my instinct is to say no, but my beloved city is besieged by enemies and I fear that if I do not lend my experience to these fine people that this cult of Vecna will rise to even greater power, then where will I be.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 30, 2004)

*Session 17 Module Vecna Lives and The Tomb of Horros*

Now the party knows of vecna and the need to confront him, but they suspect that the Tomb of Horrors may be able to aid them in this, so this is part of their journey to the Tomb.

“See there, in the last few ranks,” said Delvin as he pointed past the hoards of Orcs and Gnolls to large humanoids of various sizes. Three and four times the size of humans they could be none other than, “giants.”

“I see them,” said Gren.

“Let me at them,” screamed Boulder Shoulder, “let me at them, I’ll make a stew of there sinew.”

“Perhaps our gruff comrade is right, perhaps we should land, we have circled them for hours with no further information to be had,” said Khael as he was already beginning to land the party who was now in the form of wisps of clouds, flying on the currents of the air.

“No,” shouted Delvin, ”how could I be so stupid?”

“What is the matter with you, it is only a bunch of Goblins and a few tall people, me axe is ready.”

“Can’t you see, as we land and get closer to the ranks. Look there, the group of Trolls is actually a Drake, see how the curvature of the world combined with spell has distorted its true image.“

“By the light of Pelor,“ said Khael, shock evident on his face.

“Look there, that column of soldiers,” said Gren pointing to the right flanks, now able to see what Delvin was talking about,” they are not Goblins, they are siege Elophants and more in number than we could have seen from above.

“What’s the point, me blade can take them,” chimed in Boulder Shoulder.

“The point is that we were duped be a spell, an illusion,” said Gren.

“Not just an illusion,” instructed Delvin,” but a war illusion. Simple spells cast on such large forces would be able to hide very little of the army, war wizards have the capacity to weave spells that can affect a whole legion. There range is greater and the durations can last days, sometimes weeks. Most of the time they are different versions of spells that common wizards use, like my own spells, just with minor differences that make them suitable for war, like longer durations, quicker casting times and greater areas of effects.

“See how what we thought was just a few hundred Orcs from our vantage point was actually a legion of different races. One moment,” said Delvin as he inspected the weave that he could now see, “there, you see the troop movement to the right, how they are erratic and unpredictable in their movements. Watch.

The three watched as Khael began to lower them yet closer to the ground. In the distance the column of troops merged and twisted with the landscape and then they changed form from Orc to Gnoll to Goblin and always their numbers changed. So subtle was the changes that even the trained eyes of the three could hardly tell what the real force was and what was the illusion. Scarier still was the fact that they never could tell how many creatures were really down in that column.

“What does that matter, you had your fancy tactics and I have me blade, let me set it upon them,” growled the gruff dwarf.

“Well my vertically challenged friend, as you can see we are greatly out numbered, what we thought was a few hundred Orcs is more likely ten thousand Orcs, two hundred Gnolls, three hundred Trolls, fifty Drakes, thirty siege Elophants, one hundred Giants and that does not take into account the forces that we have yet to see or the one hundred Demon like commanders. Then there is one more problem,” casually stated Delvin.

“Oh, and what is that,” huffed the dwarf, “that you are to afraid of a good fight?”

“No,” calmly stated Delvin. He straightened out his robes as the party landed on the ground and became substantial again. By then it was apparent to everyone, but he said it anyway. “It’s just that the army has already been through here and judging by my estimation, I’d say quite some time ago.”

Indeed , what was an image of thousands of creatures of murderous intent was now just a gently rolling hill. The illusion had duped them all, to the last man and in Devlin‘s case, woman. It hide them from the correct numbers and make up of the approaching army and also covered there tracks, replaying the passing of the army some days before for those who might try to spy out the forces in the air. As the four looked around for signs of the passing, the trampled grass began to rise and straighten itself and the mud left in the wake of the army smoothed and evened out. Soon nothing was left to mark the armies passing other than the four who had viewed from an illusion miles above the Earth.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 30, 2004)

*Session 18&19 Vecna Lives and The Tomb of Horrors*

In session 18 the party arrives in the town of Kalistrad, a small town that borders the Vast Swamp, where the Tomb of Horrors dwells.  The town has a lottery whenever Acerack sends word that he nees more souls.  He usually does this every ten or twenty years and notifies the town by having specters attack the town in a vail of mist.  The Party has offered to go instead of whomever "wins" the lottery.  Party of Delvin's dream takes place before this event, for it covers the journey to Kalistrad, the rest takes place after he wakes up in the Vast Swzmp after the party felt powerful (or rather foolish) enough to not post a guard for the night.

Delvin, in the Mausoleum of the Lost Gods, got turned into a woman by a cursed belt.  He also turned into a human then as well.  In session 19, he angered Pelor, who changed her even further.  Also, his class is now 10 levels of *Celestial Servant *(a house class that is similar to a sorcerer, except that they can cast divine spells too) and 5 levels of *Celestial Sentinel *(which is a pretiege class that is a cross between Divine agent and Paladin)


*     *     *​ 
From the Dreams of Delvin
She was beautiful in spite of her dark heritage. Her skin an inky black, her hair a shimmering silver, her eyes a vibrant shade of purple. She was hypnotic in her swagger, soothing in her words and arrogant in her power. 

I should like to disintegrate her inky skin, chain lightning her shimmering hair and crush her vibrant eyes into oblivion.

She slew two stone giants with but a mere thought, as if a child burning ants. She has power, but I know I can take her; I am better than the rest.

She introduced herself as Shanandrea and her brothers as Kalindera and Jurith’vea. They were drow, born to a race of elves who in ages past were long banished from their surface cousins into the bowels of the earth. They claim to have transcended that evil heritage, forsaking their vial dark God Loth for a better way of life. 

They are drow, I trust them not.

How can you turn your back on who you are? How can you be anything other than what you were raised? I have heard tales of surface drow. In the forests to the east of our Hilltop keep it is rumored that drow have breached the surface and live under the mountain clouds of the volcanoes. They worship neither the light nor the dark. I speculate that this is myth since I am always right, drow are evil.

She offers us safe passage across the mountain wall by means of a spell that takes us into the core of the earth. Wrapped in a sheath of stone we are whisked away in a claustrophobic manner threw the earth. We land in a closed cavern. No entrance, no exit can be seen. She summons a powerful air elemental to provide us with adequate breathing air. In spite of her kindness, I still hate her. Or do I hate her evil past?

The mountain wall. In ages past the forces of good made of the mountain range that separated the lands a huge wall. The Gods themselves are said to have raised the wall and then imbued it with magical powers so that magic fades as you approach and then dies. They did this for the love of their children, to protect them and keep them safe from the forces of Arrazznecronakk. None since have breached the wall but forces try every day only to be driven back by its defenders. She explains that the only way to cross the mountain wall is to travel under the mountain itself. Deep in the earth they have set up a series of caves like this for just this purpose.

It takes a week of this sort of traveling to get us to the town of Kalstrand, far on the other side of the mountain wall. I can immediately sense the difference in the air. The weight of evil is not here. On the other side the evil bears down on you like a vice. It smothers every breath you take and corrupts your every waking thought and pollutes your dreams. Here there is nothing of the kind. Hear it is as if the world has been cleansed of the filth of the damned. Here you can breath. It is like stepping into an alternate reality.

In the distance the city of Kalstrand shines like a beacon of hope in a world of joy and content. A patrol comes our way. White stallions that look well cared for and groomed bear knights dressed in full plate that shines and glistens in the rising sun. A aura of good surrounds them and the leader speaks.

“Hail and greetings to thee,” he says with a raised hand in a show a respect.

“And to you,” says Khael, “may the light of Pelor protect you.”

“Do you rise when things are backed?” says the knight.

“What,” I say; surely I have a look of confusion upon my face.

“Rise when things are backed.” He says and he removes his helm to speak more clearly. I can see his face, it is familiar to me. A rather striking jaw line and an aura of power give me chills down my spine. He is strikingly handsome, where do I know him from? 

“Rise when things are backed,“ he is repeating it over and over but in Khael’s voice. Perhaps he is a ventriloquist for he sounds just like him and looks just like me? It is me, taking in Khael’s voice and then I remember, I am no longer a man and that I am a sleep.

“Rise we are being attacked!”

* * *​Delvin arose to watch his demise. From the center of camp two dread wraiths attacked Khael and he watched in helpless horror as they ripped his soul apart. A corporeal mist rose from his body and the two dread wraiths split it in two and sucked its essence into each other. His body, nothing more than an empty shell, withered to nothing.

“No,” she heard herself scream. She damned herself for not setting a guard. Had they set one they surely would have seen the creatures approach or noticed some sign that things were amiss and then prepared for just such a thing.

She cast many spells and her companions fought bravely and they defeated the remaining dread wraiths but she would remember very little of that. Not until he reminded her.

* * *​“Here is the body of Khael the brave,” she said threw a brave charade of faithlessness. She masked her pain in her eyes but the tears that had dried upon her cheeks told another tale. 

“Here he lies and for what is reward he is to receive. Death greeted him not more than a day out from our camp. Where is his god now, why does he cower from Khael in his time of need? Where is this god? Why did he not protect his faithful? Why did he not bring him back from the dead? Why? Why?

“I challenge you men and women of Kalstrand, call upon your god, and demand that he bring back my friend. Who among you claims to have the power? I renounce you and your god. I offer any who can call upon this false god one million gold to whomever can bring my friend back from deaths door. One million gold to whomever can convince me that the gods do exist. One million gold to whomever can prove me wrong. I believe that all magic is related and clerics are just another form of wizards. Prove me wrong and one million gold shall be yours.

The whole of the town went into a rage of disbelief and sorrow. However this only lasted for a mere moment as many tried to bring back the soul of Khael into his body and yet others tried to debate the principles of faith and the structure of the gods. Delvin countered at every turn, actually swaying some to his side of the argument. The debated last for the whole of the day, with none able to resurrect Khael or to break the foundation of the argument that Delvin had laid before him.

“I am right, the gods do not exist and none of you have been able to prove me wrong. I am right again as always,” said Delvin.

“Pardon me mam, I believe that you have an artifact of the church in your possession and Pelor would like very much its return,” came a soft reply from a small teenage girl.

“Well,” stated Delvin not even bothering with the child’s name, “if Pelor wants it back he can come and claim it. If I am right and the gods do not exist then this is not the artifact of the church but rather the property of my friend Khael and now mine. You use the church as a crutch to get things you can’t get through other means. You want this artifact then have Pelor come and take it from me, barring that, I shall sell it to you, say ten thousand gold.”

“You would be wise to not anger Pelor, he is kind and benevolent, but if you should anger him, then I have pity on your soul,” said the child.

“Stand aside, I grow tired of this and wish to get some sleep. You just can’t stand that I am right and every one else is wrong. I am better then every one else, even this town, even Pelor,” said Delvin and she made a move to cross the child’s path. The child stood firm and in her haste the child was knocked down to the ground by her passing.

“Is it not in bad form to have no manners. Even one as powerful and strong as you should concede that, should you not,” came a reply from behind her and Delvin turned to face this new debater. An older man dressed in simple white robes ran his fingers through his thick and wild hair and beard that had about it a golden hue. “Pelor is the creator of many good things, a supporter of those in need, an adversary of all that is evil. He is the deity most commonly worshipped among ordinary humans and his priests are most welcome in all lands this side of the mountain wall and in most on the other. Why is it that you disbelieve?” he said as he helped the child up from the ground.

“I know, your friend right? Why did Pelor the mighty not bring him back from the dead, why did he not protect him? Every person has their roll, Khael’s was not to live, his was to guide and although the one he guided does not yet know it, yet there will come a time when his sacrifice was not in vain. Sometimes all you have is faith, and it is enough. But you require more.”

“Save your words, I know every question you would ask of me, I knew years before you even thought to ask them, rather than waste our time with the questions, how about the answers?

“The Gods govern the cosmos…” began the old man as he went into a lecture of the history of the gods and the creation of the cosmos and the children of the world. Delvin stood dumfounded before the old man, unable to speak a signal word. The old man continued for what seemed like hours or even days.

“Yes, I know, you have not seen these wonders so you have very little faith in what I speak, come then, let’s explore them together,” and with that Delvin was whisked away from plane to plane, guided by the old man who showed him things he could only dream of. Delvin had questions, many questions, and he had answers before she asked the questions. Again they stood before the town square and the old man spoke again.

“You still doubt me, I know, everything I have shown you and still doubt reigns your heart. True, everything I have shown you could be just an illusion and my words lies. How about faith? Let’s test that, follow me,” said the old man as if she had a choice and they were whisked away into a Balor’s lair on the abyssal layers 364. The great creature noticed them when the old man allowed it, which wasn’t until the old man allowed Delvin into a fraction of his mind so he would know that he would use no trick of magic for this feat. The Balor, a servant of evil in all its cruelest incarnations, lunged for the attack. Pelor stood his ground and spoke. No fancy spells, no magical might, no illusions, just words and with these words he turned this demon of the pits into a friend. Oh, evil still rules its heart, but from Hostile in intent to friendly in action the Balor’s attitude changed with nothing but words. Then Pelor stood still and did nothing as the Balor’s servants entered the room and when they lunged to attack Pelor it was not Pelor that did anything but rather the Balor who smote his own servants to protect his new found friend.

“Still you doubt, what else can I do to make you believe? No, I can not show you my true form for it would burn your body alive just to look upon it. Would you settle for just my back? Yes, I knew you would?” And with that Pelor appeared in place of the Old Man, but not all of him, only his back but this was enough. Delvin looked upon it and knew. His eyes started to burn but he could not look away from Pelor’s back. His eyes melted down his face and burned into his skin.

“I believe, please no more,” cried Delvin.

“No, you do not,” said Pelor, “but you will.”

With that Pelor snapped his fingers and tore apart Delvin cell by cell, then molecule by molecule and then atom by atom. He reconstructed his body from the inside out altering his DNA and molding him to his desire.

“Please stop,” cried Delvin when he had enough cells to create a mouth that worked.

“But I am not done,” said Pelor and he continued, “remember your sins,” and Devlin screamed in pain as he recalled every bad decision he had ever made. He recalled how she left the helpless city of Hawking alone to defend itself from the hoards of the advancing army. How she forced his way into unlawful negotiations and the less than honorable tactics she used at times to get information, this not counting the times she just stood by and watched as others did the same.

“I believe you had said if I can prove myself then you would serve me and it will be under this oath you shall do so: Noble service cheerfully rendered, defense of any charge unto death, courage and enterprise in obedience to rule, respect for all peers and equals, honor to all above your station, obedience and respect from all beneath your station, scorn for those who are lowly and ignoble, Military prowess exercised in service to your lord and God, Courtesy to all ladies, tolerance to all men, Parley is the opening of all doors, battle is the option of closed doors, war is the flowering of chivalry, battle is the test of man or womanhood, combat is glory, personal glory above all in battle, death to all who oppose the cause and death before dishonor.

“I believe that you had wished for the power of the divine to coarse through your blood and to forsake your sorcerer ways, I shall do this too, but allow you a scrap of your former arcane self to both honor your sacrifice and remind you of where you came from and this shall be the Dogma that you have sacrificed for: Though widely revered as a peaceful and gentle deity who alleviates suffering, the church of Pelor has a more martial aspect. He brings his wraith to bear on all darkness and evil, and he invigorates and heals all those who champion good. Pelor teaches that the energy of life originates from the sun. This light brings strength to the weak and health to the injured, while destroying darkness and evil. He urges his followers to challenge the forces of corruption aggressively, but also to remember that staring at the sun can cause blindness of the eyes, relentless attention to the destruction of negative forces can blind the heart to the true essence of life: kindness, mercy, compassion. 

Delvin cringed in fear and awe as her body transformed from what it was. Her features where perfect and they were so again. Pelor took from her the Ring of Pelor and enlarged it in size and then placed it around her neck were is shrunk to fit her snug. 

“You wished to be a holy warrior, you must first prove yourself worthy of the honor, you and your friends have agreed to complete a task, to destroy an evil that has survived for countless eons, do this and you shall be rewarded. You will need a weapon to complete this feat, you may use my forge to create this item, come with me,” and with that Pelor took her to his home plane.

She had worked with metals of all types in the past and now she was working with the finest of the best in a forge that was second to none. 

“Yes, I could have made you the weapon that you have just made, I could have done this for you, but this is the first of many lessons you must learn, some times it is best for your children to do for themselves rather than the father always doing for them. Come now, it is time to go.”

With that he brought her to the city square of Kalstrand. The first thing she noticed was that it was as if time had stood still for the world looked like a painting. 

“Delvin, there is a final lesson for you to learn that I must do for your own good for you are in need of this lesson more than any other I have ever seen. Your perfect self has lead to a life of arrogance and egotistical rage, something that I will remedy now.”

Delvin screamed as her body changed yet again, her perfect looks gone and withered to nothing. So horrible was her features that the ugliest ogre child would be an improvement over her.

“You have been blind since looking at my back so I shall tell you what happened and I shall use small words so you’ll be sure to understand, you wart faced buffoon. I have taken your looks and beauty from you, for too long you have relied on them to get what you need. Now you are both blind and marred and only your perfect ears are yours and yours alone. I left them so that every shriek of every child shall be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every man that cries out, Pelor, what is that thing will echo in your perfect ears. I shall leave you in anguish, walling in freakish misery until you learn faith. Remember that staring at the sun can cause blindness of the eyes, relentless attention to the destruction of negative forces can blind the heart to the true essence of life: kindness, mercy, compassion. No, save your words, save your lies, you have not learned it yet, but you will, either that or you shall wallow in self pity for the remainder of your days.

“Khael did not die needlessly for he has opened the eyes of one who was blind to one that can see.

With that Pelor vanished and in the blink of her maimed eyes time came back to normal, in fact, it started up again in the exact second that the child had fallen. She could not see, but she did hear the screams of the city folk as they quickly gathered their children and ran into buildings, barring the doors and windows from the sight of the ghastly woman who had challenged the Gods and lost.

Deep with in his soul he heard a voice which reminded him of his promise. _You owe me one million gold.

_


----------



## DM-Rocco (Aug 6, 2004)

*Session 20 module The Tomb of Horrors*

Delvin closed her eyes as the wind blew through her hair and she reflected upon what had happened in her life leading to this point. After many years of traveling with her dearest friends they had inadvertently been wrapped up in a power struggle with the Slaver Lords and the merchant families along the coast of the Land Locked Sea. Then there was the trip to the Abyss, the journey to the Mausoleum of the Lost Gods and now the sojourn over the mountain wall through the Vast Swamp to find a hidden and long forgotten tomb belonging to a old and powerful wizard, and why would we go there, why to find something to help slay Vecna, the most powerful wizard/Demi-God in the realms, why else?

Of course, none of this compared to events in his most recent past, his brush with a God. His friend and dearest companion had died, a loyal servant of the God of Pelor, defender of the weak and bane to all undead, had died by the hands of a Dread Wraith. She shed a tear in memory of her friend but then her tears turned from sorrow to contempt to anger. Why had the light of Pelor failed his most trusty and divine agent of good? It was a question that she wanted the answer for, and question that she asked, and a question that she got answers for.

In the city of Kalistrad, Delvin had a brush with a God, and the mark of his presence still lingered with her to this day. She had been changed, from a proud youthful and strikingly beautiful woman into a horrid and putrid wench. Her eyes had been melted away from their sockets when she looked upon the back on the Avatar of Pelor and where the fluid from her eyes fell upon her cheeks, the fluid burnt into her skin, scaring her face, making her look older than she was and maiming her perfect features forever more. She had challenged the Gods and lost.

Following that day in the city square her and her companions drudged on. They re-supplied, more serious in intent and purpose this time, they made good on sparing no expense for the journey this time. In addition to the mass amount of supplies they purchased, they had bought trained Griffins to carry everything they needed, one for each of them; Delvin had names his Sir Beaks-O-Lot. 

Brakka, a merchant Elven bow maker had decided to accompany them on this task, as did Rupert, a sneaky thief by trade, an Incantrix human sorceress named Andaria, a monk who called himself Nameless and a barbarian from the south land named Shump. Together with Delvin, the stone blind Divine Sentinel, Gren Karlson, Tomb Radier, Stonecracker Boulderwacker, the dwarves defender of Helm, and Oaklin, a half elf from Hawking who joined them on their merry quest to rid the world of Vecna they flew towards the legendary Tomb of Horrors, in search of a rumored object of power to aid them in this task.

Sir Breaks-O-Lot made a final dive, after three days of riding on the back of Sir Beaks-O-Lot, Delvin new what this meant, Sir Beaks-O-Lot was landing. She could hear the voices of the others, even though they could barely hear each other over the sounds of the winds. Her brush with a God had scarred her features, but he had improved her hearing to past the point of perfection. She could hear the sounds of a mouse’s heartbeat from half a mile away; she could easily her the party shouting over the wind. They were talking about a mound in the vastness of the swamp, which, in and of itself was not unusual, but this particular mound had a flat top, about 200 yards wide and 300 yards long. Only ugly weeds, thorns and briars grew on upon the steep slopes and the bald top of the 60 foot high mound. The basic description of the mound seemed not to differ to terribly from those of other mounds in the area, in fact, the other mounds looked the same as this with one notable exception, this mound had a series of black rocks upon the top of the hill and these black rocks formed from this height the shape of two eyes, a jagged nose and a row of teeth, forming a human skull.

Sir Beaks-O-Lot dipped to the right, making a long circular slow decent. It was obvious to Delvin that they were not only landing but they were doing so as to gain a view of all sides of this mound before they did. He could hear them discussing the north side of the mound, how the cliff seemed to crumble in the middle of the face. Then, Sir Breaks-O-Lot lurched upward for an instance has he came to a halt on the ground below. 

“This has to be it,” said Oaklin, “The shape of the black rocks, that has to be the marker for the tomb, it has to be the marker for the entrance, those rocks could not have formed naturally.”

“That may be,” replied Gren as he too dismounted, “but if the enterance is in this mound, I suggest that we search for the warren ruin first.”

“What need you of warren ruins, they will tell you nothing,” bellowed Stonecracker Boulderwacker as he gave his trusty halberd Law-Bringer a good practice swipe through the air, “I have a debt to repay this wizard buried below and the sooner we get there the better I can kill him, again if need be.”

“I understand your frustrations, I too miss our holy friend Khael, his death has marred our heart with sorrow, but by finding the warren ruins we can unlock the secrets of those who built the tomb, a valuable insight to what may be with in.”

“I agree with the dwarf,” bellowed Shump’s opinion, “we should take the direct route and charge in.”

“Excuse me,” came the reply from Brakka, “I am unfairly with the warren ruins, what are they?”

As if asking a question that seemed obvious to everyone in attendance, they all gave him a helpless look of ignorance.

“Warren ruins,” began Gren in a patient and scholarly voice, “why every tomb has them because every tomb has those who either were paid handsomely to build the tomb or those who broke their backs in slave labor. It is the burial place for those that has lost their lives building such a place. Each warren ruin has information that the spirits of the dead know, and if you know how to ask the questions, they will give the answers. Even if no one dies, there is always a warren ruins. It starts out as a head quarters for those who build the tombs, and in this head quarters, if you will, they house all of the information of the tomb, from floor plans to traps meant to protect the resting spirits of the dead. When someone dies while building the tomb they bury their bodies under the warren ruins, to protect the secrets of the place from those who might try to find them, if no one dies, which only the dwarves nations has such a record, then the warren ruins are set with traps of their own.

“From time to time the warren ruins give false information, sometimes there are many different warren ruins, meant to fool and provide false information, but if you now what to look for and how to read the signs, you can tell much of the original tomb and those that are buried below. 

“Well,” said Delvin as he dismounted from Sir Beaks-O-Lot, as the Nameless monk went to her aid, “I am in agreement that we should find the warren ruins, I want my revenge as well, but we must be better prepared. Khael would most likely be alive today if we had been more prepared.”

None of them could argue that point and a compromise was made, half of the party would break of from the rest and search the surrounding swamp lands for the warren ruins while the other half would try to find the entrance to the tomb itself. Delvin, being newly blind and wholly useless in searching, spent long hours trying to divine information from the Gods.

Hours turned into days and days into weeks. Half of the party sectioned off the hill itself into a grid and at first tried to just search with their eyes and hands, but the thorns and brush was to thick. It quickly became apparent that they needed a way to poke and prod through the thick brush. First they tried to bath the reign in balls of fire, but the heavy brush was to thick and wet to ever light for more than in instant before going out. Eventually they each grabbed a pole and searched the face of the mound one step at a time, poking the ground with the tip of the pole, feeling for anything that was amiss.

Gren had taken the rest of the party in an Arial surveillance with the aid of the griffins. Usually from a high distance you could get a better feel for the surrounding lands and the best location for a warren ruins. After exploring countless tombs, he had a really good idea where it should have been, but from this height, the thick cover of the swamp prohibited much of anything in the way of answers. They too eventually landed and broke into a grid like search pattern. The ground was boggy and slick, but not as hard to search as the mound, so they made a better effort of searching the surrounding lands than the rest of the party did the mound.

Today, one week after having landed at the base of the suspected tomb no one had gained any further insight as to where an entrance may be.

“Sorry to disturb you your holiness,” said the Nameless One as he entered the tent with a tray in his hands, “you have been in silent contemplation for hours now and I thought you might like some food and drink to replenish your strength.”

Delvin opened her eyelids, her hollow sockets penetrating the soul of the monk as he drew near. Since their arrival she had done what she could to help, but without the gift of sight her help was both the most limited and the most helpful. While she could not aid in searching in the physical sense, she could still cast spells. For the last weeks she had been scrying the planes and using every divination spell she knew to seek aid from other sources. Delvin rubbed the Ring of Pelor that fit snug around her neck, both a gift and a curse of Pelor, she had an artifact of one of the Gods, placed around her throat. At first she thought it a curse, a way for Pelor to watch his unwilling servant, to bondage her, to enslave her. In recent days however, she was starting to understand to true power of the Ring of Pelor, but much of it was hidden to her. What she could gather so far was that it increased her connection with her God, infusing her with the powers of Pelors Domains. Most Clerics have knowledge of one or two aspects of their Gods power, most commonly referred to as Domains. The Ring of Pelor seemed to be a direct link to Pelor himself, granting use of all of his Domains with out hindrance to limit. She had lost all of her arcane powers when Pelor had consumed her soul, but he granted her a small portion of her former talent in the way of the Magic Domain, in honor of her sacrifice. For the last week she had been trying to divine information that may prove useful, so far, nothing.

“How goes your divination pursuits,” Nameless One had said as he handed her a cup of tea.

“”Thank you,” she said as she fumbled for the tea, she had only been blind for two weeks now and she was still having trouble adjusting. 

“I can not find anything so far,” she continued, “whether Pelor is trying to further teach me a lesson in humility or the fact that Vecna is continuing to interfere with divination spells is hard to say, but regardless, it is the same result, divinations are failing.”

“That is to bad, without another dedicated cleric in the party, you where our last hope for this type of information.”

“Yes, I do feel useless,” said Delvin, a hint of anger welling up to the surface of her emotions, “and thanks for twisting the knife in a bit deeper.”

“Delvin, I did not mean,”

“I don’t care what you mean,” she screamed at him and he tried to avert his eyes from her empty sockets.

* * *​“Damn it,“ Rupert cursed again as he pulled his finger from yet another thorn. One week of searching the side of the suspected tomb had lead to nothing so far other than thousands of tiny torn pricks and scratches. He grabbed his long ten foot pole and began to whack at the side of the thorny bush in wild frustration. In his haste he pricked himself yet again, but rather than stop and complain, he took his revenge on the thorny bush, until something unexpected happened, he had hit something solid.

“What’s this now,” he said as he tapped his pole on the surface below the thorns again. “Hey,” he shouted to Andaria, “I think I found something.”

Andaria turned from her work of prodding to look at the short and stealthy Rupert. He was flailing his arms about madly, but Andaria didn’t seemed so impressed. In the last week she had seen Rupert get excited many times, but there was never anything to show for it. Still, she made her way over to Rupert to see what it was this time.

“Andaria, I think I found the entrance to the Tomb,” he said, “I have hit upon something solid and hard, I know it is here, I just know it.”

“Stand back,” she said and he did. In the early days of the week Andaria had tried using balls of flames to burn away the thick brush from the side of the mound, but the brush was way to thick and wet to ignite and the flames did little more that warm the thorns. Now, however, whenever someone thought they had found an entrance, she would not waste time with balls of flame, no, she went right for the big guns, Disintegration spells.

“_Duthfrate-calista,_” she said in the spidery language of magic and a small cone of greenish-blue light emanated from her small hands. The cone covered a ten foot area and everything thing it touched disappeared, replaced with a fine dust. Underneath what was once thick thorn bushes she could make out the tiny ledge of a marble shelf

“Is that what I think it is,” said Shump as he approached from the top side of the brush.

“I believe it is,” replied Andaria as she traipsed over the fine dust left behind from the spell. Once to the ledge she angled another disintegration spell to her left, along what she thought might be the direction of the marble ledge. As the spell finished it path it cleared yet another ten feet of thick brush and thorny vines. She let loose another from right side to the same effect.

“Get the others,” she said, finally with a look of excitement in her eyes,

* * *​Gren finished casting another divination spell to no avail. One week of searching for the warren ruins had lead to bitter disappointment. It had never failed him in the past that he would find a warren ruins and he had looked in the usual places, but nothing.

“What if the this wizard Acererak had never built a warren ruins,” questioned Sir Darian. He leaned heavily upon a long spaded shovel, his body deprived of armor, the humidity of the swamp had forced him to abandon it for a simple cotton shirt, and that was wrapped around his waist, leaving his massive chest bare.

“It is possible, but in the history of tomb building, everyone had always left warren ruins. I think they are here somewhere, just hidden from our eyes right now.”

“You may be right, but I am giving up hope.”

“Gren!”

They both turned in the direction of the shouting. From the distance, they could make out the small form of Rupert running at them at full speed. They waited until he got near and then offered him a drink of water.

“My thanks, but let us make haste,” he said in between labored breathing and gulps of water, “we think we have found the entrance to the Tomb.

“Hold my hand,” he said to the two of them as he gathered his gear from the ground. As soon as the two of them had gathered their gear about them he closed his eyes and mouthed the words of a spell that would bend distance to his will, a Dimensional Door.

* * *​“Silence,” yelled the Nameless One as he reached for her and held her in his firm grip, “silence and listen, I will not pity you like the others do, what Pelor did to you was of your own doing, not ours and certainly not mine. If you wish to dwell in pity, then by all means feel free, we can go back to the streets of Kalistrad and dump you there. The city is full of those who would give into pity and sloth. If you chose to accept what you are and what you have become, then and only then can I aid you.”

Delvin paused a moment, she knew that he was right, from the moment of her loss she had been a pain to all those around her, blaming them for her choice.

“You are right,” she said after a long moment of silence, “it is not easy for me to admit it, but I did bring this curse down upon myself. Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said with a soft smile that she could not see. Then, he saw her head move the slightest bit and he spun on his heel to see who was behind him. He could hear the griffins in their bins squawking loudly as if something was disturbing them; then he saw her. She was stunning and statuesque and extraordinarily beautiful with flawless skin and raven hair. Her form, draped in a seer lace slip was tempting, from her tight and well formed legs to her firm and perky bare breast, she was tempting, too tempting. She walked into the tent like she had been here a million times, like she owned the tent, like she owned everything within.

The Nameless One stood transfixed by the sight of her, unable to move he was helpless before her as she bent in with her thick full lips and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. He felt a bit strange after the long slow kiss, but something inside his mind wanted another, something begged for it and he did not resist her when she pulled him closer. She kissed him again and he felt weak in the knees, his head began to spin but in the throws of passion he held her close and kissed her again. 

“Lawbringer,” came a cry from behind the woman and a steak of silver narrowly missed the Nameless One’s neck. The blow however, did manage to sever the head of the strange woman, relieving the body of the burden of a head. The Nameless One stared blankly for a moment at the headless corpse in front of him and then at the shaking body of Delvin holding the dwarfs precious halberd clutched in both hands.

“What manner of beast was that,” exclaimed the Nameless One, “and how did you hit her, you could have hit me?

“That my friend is a Succubus, a agent of evil from the infinite layers of the Abyss,” she said “or I am a wart faced toad. As to how I could hit it, I could see her, as clear as you surely can see me I can see her, as if the blackness was a backdrop and the evil about her was all I could see, but in fine detail, a glowing object of evil in a world of darkness.”

“I,” he began, but she stopped him.

“Here,” she said as she handed him a potion, “drink this, it will cure what ails you.” She moved outside the tent, she could not see them, but she heard the sounds of the straps breaking and the poles cracking and the beating of wings as the griffins flew into the air. She knew that they would not be back, not anytime soon, evil was about and they would have no part of it.

In the distance she scanned the horizon where the others had told her the mound was. She had no need to guess, now in place of empty black she could clearly see the outline of the entrance to the tomb, a stark contrast to the blackness of emptiness.

“They do not know what they are doing,” she said, “they do not what they face.”

“I will warn them,” said the Nameless One as he closed his eyes to slip between the strands of time and space and slide across the dimensional barriers. He opened his eyes only to discover that he was right where he was a moment ago, not his intended destination of the base of the mound. He closed his eyes again and tired it again.

“What are you doing,” she cried but it was already to late. In the distance she could see a portal rip open in the sky and a large grotesque creature that seemed a blend of an ape and a corpulent boar. It stood on its hind legs, rising more than three times the height of a human. It stretched a pair of feathered wings that seemed ridiculously small compared to the rest of the body. She turned her gaze back towards the direction that Gren and the others had been searching for the warren ruins only to see a creature appear in the sky above, glowing in the bright light of evil. It looked like a cross between a large human and a huge vulture. It had strong sinewy limbs that was covered in small gray feathers, a long neck with a vulture head and a set of vast feathered wings.

“You tried to take an Abundant Step didn’t you?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect.”

“That is where you are wrong,” she said as she tightly clutched the mighty blade Lawbringer in her hands. The blade grew hot to the touch and then it began to fade, and then it was gone.

* * *​“Don’t do it Andaria,” warned Shump.

“You worry to much Shump,” she said, “It is only a quick peek, what can that hurt,” and with that she finished her spell to make herself ethereal. She wanted to take a peek inside while the others came, she hated living in Gren’s shadow, this time she would prove that she was better than Gren, she would be a step ahead of him. She swayed as if trying to move in a way foreign to her body and then caught herself, nothing.

“What,” she said confused, “I don’t understand, why didn’t it wor…,”

Shump looked at Andria as she stopped in mid sentence. She was fiddling with her cloths. She moved a bag of components around and Shump could see it, a long thin metal blade had protruded from the right side of her waist. She reached to grab it and another blade exploded from the left side of her waist, pools of blood forming on her soft silk robes. Her body jerked and she instinctively reached for the other blade. Then one and then another thick straight blades burst through bone and muscle, ripping two large gashes in her chest. She tried to scream but another blade burst through her lung and then she felt a slight pressure against her neck and her head began to spin violently. She could not tell which way was up and which way was down. Finally the spinning stopped, but she was rapidly growing tired, her eye lips felt very heavy, blackness was taking her. In the dimming vision she could make out a headless body dressed in silk robes with five gleaming blades protruding from its body. She had a terrible sinking feeling as she realized that it was her body she was staring at and before she could think another thought, she slipped into oblivion.

* * *​The creature let out a wailing bellow that shook Gren to his bones. He could see the creature making a final decent towards him but their was nothing he could do, he was paralyzed with fear. He watched as the creature landed in front of him, he recognized the creature from his previous visit to the Abyss, this was a Vrock, a large vultures looking creature. He watched as it emitted spores from its body. He was helpless to watch the spores dig into his skin and as the vines grew in place of spores, he just hoped it would be quick and painless, but he knew of these creatures, it would not be swift or painless.

Four arrows pierced his thick flesh and the Vrock screamed in pain. He turned to this new threat and as he did four images of the demon appeared in front of Gren. This was one of its few defensive spells. A moment later Gren could make out the flash of an arrow as it wiped past him. The arrow exploded in the air between the demon and Gren. Gren, finally able to break free of the wailing grasp and the snake vine spores, managed to dodge out of the way at the last moment, but the Creature was not so lucky. The arrow struck him in the head and then burst into flames, melting a part of the demons face. He flapped his wings in the air a flew away, but another arrow hit the demon in the wing and again the creature cried out in pain as the arrow again burst into flames. The demon, unable to maintain flight, crashed upon the swamp bed.

* * *​Shump watched helpless as Andaria had sword after sword after sword after sword after sword after sword pierce her flesh. He felt sick as her head rolled from her shoulders and he almost passed out as the six gleaming swords all went into different directions and he watched Andaria’s helpless body get rended to shreds. 

From behind the fallen body of Andaria came the otherworldly form of an attractive female human with six arms and a long snake like body tipped with a tail. Her height varied depending on how much of her reptilian body she chose to use to stand on. An unholy aura surrounded her and with but a thought she sent the approaching Oaklin flying through the air with some unseen force. He landed end over end along the side of the thorny bushes of the mound, finally coming to rest entangled in a mass of thick brush and thorn vines. She stared at Shump and then lashed out at the dazed man with her mighty tail, It coiled around him tightly and began to constrict very tight. She paused a moment to lick the blades clean of Andaria’s blood and then slithered towards Shump.

* * *​Gren stood over the body of the nearly dead Vrock, with a quick motion he untangle his mass of chains from around his waist and struck the beast with three decisive blows. The creature screamed a final time and then died. Gren began to wipe off the vines that had grown in the skin where the spore had hit him, they caused pain in every movement and he wanted the pain to end. He almost had the last of them removed when he felt a racking scrap across his back. Two powerful claws dug in deep down his spine. He spun on his good foot to confront the demon but the demon was quicker and he let loose a mighty roar and cold cocked the unsuspecting Gren, causing him to go flying through the air.

* * *​Shrump struggled to free himself from the constricting tail of the Marilith, but even placing himself in a frenzied rage failed to grant him the strength to break its grasp. She pulled him closer, dragging him to her, six wicked blades gleaming in the moon light. The coils continued to constrict with each breath he took, every draw of air brought pain and every exhale brought a further constriction. He anger and rage welled up inside of him, he felt a bit stronger, but it was a fleeting strength, he knew, since he was about to pass out. He could see her draw the blades high, ready to strike him down, then it happened.

“Lawbringer,” he heard Stonecracker Boulderwacker cry and from behind the Marilith he could see the glowing might of the dwarf’s mighty weapon. The blade cut through one weapon after another, breaking each with a strong show of force as if the weapons of the Marilith were made out of paper. The blade hummed in anger and in came the dwarf in wild abandon and in a few moments it was over and the dwarf was quietly whistling to himself as he tied a second Marilith head to his belt.

“That makes two,” he simply said matter-of-factly.

* * *​The Nalfeshnee swung his ape like arms into the air and crashed down hard upon Gren’s exposed back. He felt his ribs crack and break and he tasted his own blood as it freely flowed from many wounds, both internal and external. He tried to stand to get away, but the demon was on him every moment. Sir Darian came in strong with his massive clamor, slicing a few minor wounds on the beast, but the blade over all seemed to have very little effect on him. 

The Nalfeshnee jumped into the air, meaning to bring down the full force of its 8,000 pounds of blubbery body weight to crush the remaining life force of Gren. White light shot through the air and impacted everything for hundreds of feet in every direction. When it touched the Nalfesnee his body sizzled with the holy energy and then the light attempted to vanished the Nalfesnee from the prime material plane in an explosion of white light, but its resistance to spells caused the effect to fail and the Nalfesnee came crashing down hard on the exposed backside of Gran. 

Delvin emerged from the misty night to cast another holy word at the demon but it too did not seem to affect him. The Nalfesnee lost interest in the unconscious form of Gren. The Nalfesnee let out a wild yell as he charged down on the helpless Delvin and he was almost upon him when a lone figure came flying out of no where to smash his fist into the chest of the demon who fell back and staggered. The nameless One stood up from the ground and stared at the demon as it struggled to stand itself. It made a long echoing bellow and charged forward. The Nameless One stood his ground and simple waved his hand in a series of small vibrations. The Nalfesnee staggered for a moment and then collapsed in a heap upon the ground, dead.

Delvin stepped into view and ran to the sounds of Gren’s labored breathing. She bent low and cast a spell of healing upon him. Instantly he could feel the bones in his chest begin to reform and mend.

They all made their way to the mound after that to count the loses. The griffins were gone and Andaria had died, they needed to make a descion, they needed to determine if they would leave and live or stay and die.

* * *​In a far reaching plane, deeper than the infinite layers of the Abyss and further than the Nine Hells, in a realm unknown to even the wisest sages and seldom known to any, including many of the Gods, Acererack’s corporeal body roamed, gathering knowledge that only he would find useful. Eons had passed on the prime Material Plane and seldom did he ever need to return to his Tomb of Horrors. In ages past he had been a User of Magic and a dedicated Cleric to demons of the Abyss and when even his long life span of his demon bloodline brought about the end of his days as a mere mortal, he sought to extend his life by making himself a Lich, a Wizard of incredible power that can defy death by becoming undead. 

Over the score of years that followed he continued his pursuit for power, he even allied himself with Vecna and Arrazznecronakk, one a very powerful lich like himself and the other a simple human who had achieved the divine blessing of becoming a Demi-God. The former had been kicked out of the heavens and then sought power from the hells. Eventually Arrazznecronakk was over throne by a band of Heros and Vecna was betrayed by his own lieutenant. Acererack withdrew into the Vast Swamp and sheltered himself in his keep, which was built over the Tomb of his burial. There the lich dwelled with hoards of ghastly servants in the gloomy stone halls of the very hill where the tomb is today. Eventually even the undead life force of Acererack began to wane, so for the next eight decades the lich’s servants labored to create the Tomb of Horrors. Then Acererack destroyed all of his slaves and servitors, magically hid the entrance to his halls and went to his final haunt while his soul was free to roam strange and unknown planes.

While gathering a bit of important knowledge he had been seeking for a century now, he paused, something had distracted him. The fail safes for his tomb had been broken, someone had found the entrance, something that had not happened in many years, something that delighted him. He smiled to himself, and then reflected on the last time he had smiled, it had been a long time indeed, but no need to return to the tomb just yet, they had only found the entrance to the tomb, which meant that they were smart and resourceful. That proved nothing. He needed smart and resourceful, but he also needed powerful and they could have been luck in finding the tomb. Time will tell he had a need to return to the tomb, but for now, a strange new plane of power called him to attention and he had no need to waste any more time with his intruders just yet. 

The tomb would take care of them.


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## the Jester (Aug 8, 2004)

Good stuff!

Can we get a list of the party class/race/level/alignments?


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## DM-Rocco (Aug 8, 2004)

I eluded to this in the main text, but here is a more detailed list.  I don't have the characters in front of me, but from what I recall, here it is:
Brakka- a neutral elven 6 wizard/7 arcane archer

Rupert- a neutral evil human 6 rogue/7 assassin (he has a ring of non detection on to hide his alignment from the paladin in the party)

Andaria neutral good human 6sorceress/7Incantrix

The Nameless One-A lawful Good 15 level monk with a vow of poverty from the exalted deeds book

Sir Darian human Lawful good 13 level paladin
Shump- A half-orc 6 barbarian/7 frenzied berserker 

Gren Karlson, human 5 rogue/9 Tomb Radier (house class, started as a replacement for the rogue class with no sneak attack but you got limited spells and 10 skills a level instead of 8, then became a prestige class with similar abilities, but you now also get mad bonuses for knowledge based skills)

Stonecracker Boulderwacker- a lawful good dwarf 7 paladin/7dwarven defender

Lawbringer- Stonecrackers trusted Intelligent modified halberd, it has three heads, one, an axe head for slashing, the back of the axe head is a hammer to blunt damage and the tip can do piercing.

Oaklin, a half elf from Hawking rather not say the rest, he a an NPC

Delvin Silversmith, who at some time became Devin and now that he has fallen prey to a girdle of opposite sex, he/she is now Devina (which I had not added to the story yet, but to his complaining, look for it soon) he is Lawful good (although he doesn’t always act it) Stone blind (From defying the Gods) he started out a war wizard, but he didn’t like it and he wanted to change to a straight sorcerer, since we were only a couple of sessions into it and he had a history with the character I allowed it. Then, when he defied Pelor, the god rebuilt him from the inside out granting him 10 levels of Divine Sentinel and 5 levels of Divine Servant (both house classes)


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## DM-Rocco (Aug 17, 2004)

In between moving and trying to see if I can write something for the Eberron writing contest, I won't be able to write on this thread until September.


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 8, 2005)

I am not dead.  I am going to finish all tales I have started.

My son is now 8 months old and damn all of you who said I would not have time after he was born.  I hate when others are right.

Anyway, I am getting an itch to write again, I am starting a bigger writting project than this forum, but I need to get back in the swing of things, so I will finish this thread first and update those of you who care about my Gaming Campaign and then finsh up Lizard Bait and then perhaps something new. 

My problem is I always have something new.


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## the Jester (Jun 8, 2005)

Hey, cool!  I was just lookin' at this thread again the other day... 

Glad to hear you've not given up on it.


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 8, 2005)

the Jester said:
			
		

> Hey, cool! I was just lookin' at this thread again the other day...
> 
> Glad to hear you've not given up on it.




Yeah, I got an itch in my craw to write some more, that and my son is growing like a weed, can hold his own bottle and plays with himself nicely, so I can concentrate a bit more on writing.  Also, my gamers are bitching cause I haven't wrote anything in a while, so I am back.

Going to try tonight to write some more, but I have a friend coming over to help remoive spyware, not sure how long that will take.

Stupid spyware.


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 11, 2005)

*Session 21 Module the Tomb of Horrors*

“Gren, are you okay?”

Gren refocused himself and nodded to the others. It was a stressful time for him. In the last two days they had uncovered the remains of the entrance to the Tomb. In fact, they had found three. They had started with the one to the right, which turned out to be a plain stone corridor roughly worked, dark and full of cobwebs. The roof rose to twenty feet and the corridor stretched to thirty feet, leading to a set of double doors made of thick oak. Gren had spent a few minutes in examining the huge doors, only to find no traps or tricks. He felt confident in his abilities to find and disarm traps that so many people in the past had set to protect their belongings in the after life. He felt safe in his knowledge of what to look for, that is until he tried to open the door and a large section of the ceiling came crashing down on the party.

Years of training had been for not. He had lost something, his focus he had thought. Perhaps it was cause his pupil had died the day before when she was torn to shreds by a maralith. He felt the guilt of her death. It was his responsibility to watch her, to mentor her, to train her, and he had failed. 

After many frustrating hours in this tight and cramped section of the corridor, Gren had come to the conclusion that traps were plenty in this Tomb and that he could detect very little of them. They headed for the center Tunnel now, only to find a long corridor. This tunnel was different from the others, this corridor was not drab and dreary like the others, this one had bright and brilliant colors everywhere. Undimmed by the passage of time the stones and the pigments told a tale in a display of mosaic relief. With a distinct winding path laid out in red tiles about two feet wide it was an inviting welcome into the Tomb. The stone plaster had been smoothened over all of the surfaces of the walls and ceiling and then illustrated. The scenes painted showed fields with kine grazing, a corpse with several wolves in the background, slaves of all races and a strange human-animal mixture, pig-human; ape-human; and dog-human, going about various tasks. Certain frescoes showed rooms of stone, a torture chamber, a wizard’s work room. There are chairs, windows, boxes chests, birds, bats, spiders and all manner of things shown on the walls.

Gren focused himself and placed a tentative foot on the red tile in front of himself. He tested it for weight and then proceeded into the corridor. He moved along the Red tile path, careful not to touch the other colors in front of him. Years of training in raiding Tombs just like this had taught him that such paths were meant to be followed, straying from them often lead to death. He moved with the graceful stride of a cat as he went from one square to another, testing each foot before placing weight on the square. He followed the trail as it widened to the right, following close to the eastern wall. So far so good, but he paused here to look at the mosaic on the wall.

Two jackal headed human figures were painted so as to appear to be holding a real bronze chest. The bronze chest was partially protruding from the wall. A careful observation of the box lead Gren to discover a switch on the lower panel of the box.

“I think I found the entrance into the main chambers of the Tomb,” he said to the others, who were closely gathered to watch, but safely far enough away to avoid hazards of the job. Gren then flicked a switch and his heart sank as the floor beneath gave way to a thirty foot deep pit. He could barely make out the bottom of the pit, but he could see the tell tale signs that the pit was spiked with sharp objects. At the last possible moment, he made a grab for the bronze box and managed to hold on for dear life. Time ticked away holding the small box and his fingers began to slip. He had to do something, so he braced his feet against the wall and kicked off as he jumped to his left, away from his friends, toward the depths of the Tomb. Nimble as he was, and skilled with all manner of acrobatics, he somersaulted onto the far ground with ease, only to have the floor there fall from his feat and Gren fell the thirty feet to the bottom of the pit, impaling himself on the sharp spikes. Instantly he felt the warmth and then burning of the poison coursing through his body.

After what seemed like forever he could feel himself raising in the air, slowly being pulled from the mass of spikes. He could feel the warmth returning to his limbs and the poison slowly left his system. He opened his eyes to Oaklin levitating over him and forcing a potion down his throat. It would be a while before he could move without pain, but for now he had enough strength to get himself out of the pit. He grabbed two metal rods from inside his pack and placed one in each hand. He held one over his head and pressed a button, it hung in the air in defiance of gravity. He then pulled himself up and placed the second one further above the first and hit the button on that one, it too held itself in place. He released the first button and repeated the process, using the metal rods to climb to freedom. 

When he was at the top of the pit he examined the under side of the trap, to see how it worked. It was incredible, the trap appeared to be seamless from above, almost totally undetectable. While he was examining the traps, he noticed the red tiles on the floor portion of the trapped area that he had landed on. They seemed odd to him, but he could not place it. Then an idea dawned on him and he climbed his way back to the beginning of the corridor. He closely examined the path, from where he had began to where the pit had been and scratched his head.

He then pulled out two long metal poles from his bag. Each was ‘L’ shaped with straps that he tied to his feet. Under the ‘L’ portion of the polls, he inserted the one of the two metal rods he had used to climb his way out of the pit. Each was inserted into a small tube that locked in place. Now he raised his leg and pressed a button on the top of the pole which extend a leaver that hit the activation button on the Rod of immovability. He did this again, and again, making of the rods an air walking device.

He walked the length of the corridor hovering just a few feet above the red tiles. While he walked, he placed a torch in the air from time to time, each torch staying in the air were it was left. He covered the whole of the corridor and repeated the path a few times. Then he came back to the beginning.

“It is a clue, our first clue,” he said, “a message, scrambled within the confines of the red tiles. It says, ‘Acererak congratulates you on your powers of observation. So make of this what you wish. For you will be mine in the end no matter what!’”

“It appears we have found the correct tomb, it continues; 

‘Go back to the tormentor or through the arch, and the second great hall you’ll discover.

Shun the green if you can, but night’s good color is for valor.

If shades of red stand for blood the wise will not need sacrifice aught but a loop pf magical metal - you’re well along your march.

Two pits along the way will be found to lead to a fortuitous fall, so check the wall.

These keys and those are most important of all, and beware of the trembling hands and what will maul.

If you find the false you find the true and into the columned hall you’ll come, and there the throne that’s key and keyed.

The iron men of visage grim do more than meets the viewers eye. 

You’ve left and left and found my tomb and now your soul will die.”

“What does that mean,” said the massively deep voice of the half-orc barbarian Brakka?

“I don’t know, perhaps it is a tormented message from the creator of the Tomb, perhaps a trick to lure us to our death, I can’t say, what I do know though, is this tomb is deadly and we can trust nothing.”

* * *​ 
The spirit of Acererak studied a flow of magical energy, a rift of raw power that tore through the fabric of reality. The energy was immense and strange and wonderful effects caused unexpected results to the surrounding landscape. He observed the effects and mentally documented the effects for further research. Such places as this were few and far between and a rift this big and powerful he had never seen before. 

Acererak held forth his spirit hand and the raw power he felt course through his body made him tremble before its might. 

_This will do, _he said to himself. Once he had enough souls, he would need a strong power source. Something stronger than this, but he could use it as a base.

Something stopped him at that moment, something distant.

_So, they have found the warning. Most do not, few can decipher the runes, fewer still can understand the message. No matter, in the end they will die and I will live._


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## the Jester (Jun 11, 2005)

DM-Rocco said:
			
		

> update





Hey, awesome!  Thanks for the update!

Did you run the original Tomb converted to 3e?  A while back I hit my nigh-epic group with RttToH...


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 11, 2005)

the Jester said:
			
		

> Hey, awesome! Thanks for the update!
> 
> Did you run the original Tomb converted to 3e? A while back I hit my nigh-epic group with RttToH...




I am an old pro at this module, I love running guys through it.  I try to have them use characters that they don't mind getting killed, but in this case they were mostly using their own.

This is the only time I have run someone through TTOH in 3.5.  The conversation is very rough and I ended up using many of the same things from the original, including the 4 in 6 chance of finding traps and such.  This pissed off the rogue, who is the resident rule lawyer, but it puts the players in thier place and reminds them that the DM can set the rules.  

Anyway, what problems did you find using the RTTTOH in 3.0?


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## the Jester (Jun 11, 2005)

We didn't have any problems with it per se- the party sure was paranoid from the word go, though!

The single biggest problem was probably arranging for smooth CRs throughout.  It took a _lot_ of work to convert it.


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 11, 2005)

the Jester said:
			
		

> We didn't have any problems with it per se- the party sure was paranoid from the word go, though!
> 
> The single biggest problem was probably arranging for smooth CRs throughout. It took a _lot_ of work to convert it.




Do you have some conversion notes left over?  I have some that I downloaded for it, but it would be nice to compare what you had being that you actually ran through it.


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 12, 2005)

*Session 22 Module the Tomb of Horrors*

Minutes turned into hours and faded into the first full night they spent in the Tomb, or actually the entrance. Gren had systematically went through the entire opening entrance, foot by foot, walking on his floating rods of immovability and testing areas for traps by throwing bags of sand tied to a rope on area after area. The Tomb seemed to have traps that defied normal means of detection, so rather than spend hours searching for traps that could not be detected, he had went through the whole of the main corridor and set every trap off, marking each and taking careful notes of the walls and floor and ceiling.

“Finished,” came the call from the end of the long passage. A few more seconds and Gren could be seem carefully navigating around each of the pits he had detected.

“What is down there,” queried Stonecracker, as he jumped up and grabbed Lawbringer by the handle and gave it a mighty practice swing?

“The passage is twenty feet wide and twenty feet high and goes back a distance of 130 feet. The red tiled path leads the length of it and stops at an Evil-appearing devil face set in a mosaic art at the corridor’s end. The mouth of the face is open and pitch black. Also down there is a arch way of mists.”

After much debate, a decision by all was made that sleep would do them good.  They decided that waiting until first light would be the best thing. After an uneventful night, other than strange noises and wicked screams with no source, the adventurers gathered up their gear and got ready to move their base camp into the dungeon. 

“Go back to the Tormentor or through the arch,” quoted Gren from his notes,” this must be the arch and the Devil face must be referring to the Tormentor. ‘and the second great hall you’ll discover,’ this must be the first hall we are in, so there must be another hall as detailed as this.”

“’Shun the green if you can, but night’s good color is for those of great valor,’ what do you think that means,” asked Sir Darian?

“Well, ’Shun the green if you can, but night’s good color is for those of great valor,’ must mean that the mouth is night’s good color so we should go into the mouth,” said Rupert.

“What about the part that says ‘shun the green,’ the face of the devil is green?”

“What’s to worry, here, see,” said Rupert as he placed his left hand into the mouth of the Tormentor. “See, nothing,” he said as he pulled his hand from the hole.

“By the Gods,” replied Shump as he and the others stared at the hand of Rupert. It wasn’t until Rupert looked at his hand that he understood what the others had been frantic about. Where his hand had once been was now nothing but a stump, it had been completely removed, cleanly from his arm, but he felt nothing, no pain, until he saw the out come of it of course.

Without a true cleric in the party there was nothing they could do to help Rupert, he would have to suffer without a hand until such a time as Delvin regained the favor of Pelor or they could find their way back to a city. For now though, he had to suffer with a bandage on his wrapped stump. 

“Apparently this is some type of modified sphere of annihilation,” said Gren. “both, Delvin and I agree that it is so.”

“What is a Sphere of Annihilation,” asked Shump?

“Well,” said Gren, the resident know-it-all, “a sphere of annihilation is an object of great power. Most are about two feet in diameter and are globes of absolute black. The object is actually a hole in the continuity of the multi-verse. Any matter coming into contact with it is instantly sucked into the void, gone and utterly destroyed. As I said, this is a modified sphere, it is bigger and in spite of our best efforts, we cannot control this one. Rupert is actually lucky that he did not get sucked into the void and only lost a hand.”

“Lucky, you call this lucky,” said Rupert as he held up his stump.

“Yes lucky,” shouted Gren, “you were stupid enough to put your hand into it, your lucky it didn’t swallow you whole. Not even Khael, Gods rest his soul, could even bring you back to life, only the direct powers of a god could do that. From now on we need to be more alert, take nothing for granted. If neither Delvin or I can control the sphere, that means that Acererack is controlling it. He has the power to move it or hold it in place, he can control it and he chooses to torment us with this twisted Tomb of his. He could kill us at any moment but chooses to let us live, he must be testing us for some greater design of his or just his sick and twisted entertainment. “

“Well,” sulked Rupert, “what should we do now then?”

“I say we leave,” said Oaklin, “it is obvious he is toying with us and it is also obvious that we do not belong here. We can find another way to kill Vecna.”

As in reply to Oaklin’s challenge a sound erupted from the far end of the corridor. They watched helplessly as the far end of the passage sealed itself from all exit. The wall completely closing and then merging with the mosaic of the rest of the hall.

“Well, that settles that,” said Brakka, as he turned towards the frightful Oaklin, “now we have no choice.”

“Well,” said Gren, “we had better find the end of this nightmare and find it quick. I had been testing this arch and…”

“Well, let’s get it on, I’m coming for revenge Acererack… …AARRGGHH!!!” screamed a war cry from the over eager Rupert as he charged into the mist before any one else could stop him. His scream instantly stopped and none heard from him again.

“For crying out loud,” yelled Gren, “are you all daft? Stop charging around this place like it is a beach resort on the Land Locked sea. How many more need to die in order for you guys to get it, this is just a game to Acererack, but for us it is a matter of life and death. I don’t know what happened to Rupert, but we will find out. With luck he is alive somewhere, but I have a feeling it is the last we have heard of him. Does anyone else want to do something foolish, cause I will wait right here while you try!”

None spoke, they only listened.

* * *​ 
Everything was black when he came too. He was in pain.  He wondered if you felt pain when you died?  He reached for a glow rod from his pack and instantly the small room he was in became clear. He was in a smallish miserable cubicle that appeared to have no means of egress. On one wall there were three iron leavers about a foot long. They appeared to move only in two directions, up and down. 

After having no success in screaming for his friends, he decided that he had no choice but to try a leaver and see what happened. He pulled out his sword and from as far as a distance as he could manage he flipped the first lever up.

Nothing.

He sighed in relief and tried the others. When nothing happened on flipping them up he tried down. 

Still nothing.

Then he placed his sword under all three of them and flipped them up. He heard a small click and looked up with baited breathe. Hopefully he had not let loose another trap, this was a miserable place to be in. When he looked up, he saw a small hatch open in the ceiling.

“Ha, not so smart, are you Acererack?” he said as he removed his sword from under the levers and attacked the iron bars from above, causing all three levers to be placed in the down position. He tried to scream, but he was too in shock to even put forth the effort. He could only watch in horror as the floor beneath his feet gave way and he fell. As the light source was falling with him, he had a hard time figuring out how far he had fallen.  When he impacted it was painful. He crashed into a pile of bones. Heros who long ago tried to master this horrid place and found the same fate as he. He could barely breathe, he could barely move, his injuries where severe and he knew he was dieing. He managed to drink a potion of healing, which recovered some of his life force, but the evil of the place was sucking away his will to live.

He got up and moved about, trying to find a way out.  He found none. He was lucky, he had not broken any bones, and the terrible scraps he had suffered where healing as the potion was taking effect. After realizing he had to leave, he got up and started to climb. The walls were slick, but he was a skilled climber so he moved quickly but cautiously. It took him a while, but he was able to see the end of the road. He climbed for what seemed like hours and now he could see the levers he had pulled and the room he had fallen from.

“Noooo,” he screamed as the floor started to close right before his eyes. He had almost been quick enough, almost, but now he was trapped and he could not get out. He tried to find a way to release the trapped floor, but he could not. Minutes ticked away and he regretted not listing to the others. He also now regretted not letting himself die. He had food and water on him, but it would slowly run out and he would starve to death.

The others would not save him, they would never find him. He decided to finish what the Tomb had started and right as his strength gave out, he leapt to his death.

Down he fell, repeating the path he had just taken, but right before the impact he felt an evil presence with in the room, a voice inside cackled and he stopped, not from the impact of the body hitting the floor, but of some force preventing him from taking his own life. At the last moment he was saved from death, only to die a long and slow death of hunger and thirst.

Now he screamed, for it was the only vice left to him.

* * *​ 
After systematically testing of the archway, they had discovered that by going near it, the three stone, one yellow, one blue and one orange, had lit themselves up. After carefully touching each, they had come to the conclusion that by touching them in the following order, yellow, blue and then orange, the mists would disappear. Gren slowly entered the arch and he was gone.  Teleported was Delvin’s assessment as she was knowledgeable in such matters.

The rest of the party followed and ended up in the same place, a small ten foot by twenty foot room.

Shump was gaining his bearing when he heard a battle cry.

“Lawbringer,” cried Stonecracker as he rushed pass Shump and the others and attacked a large figure in the distance. He could here blow after blow, the sound of metal on stone and then the beast fell over and was no more.

“Congratulations dwarf,” sneered Sir Darian, “you have just killed a stone statue.”

“Taunt all you want master paladin, but I have not survived five years in the dwarves navy just to die to a statue come to life.”

“Yes, well, it is a possibility,” replied Brakka, “but I hope it was not a clue to get out of here.”

“Everyone, this way, cried Gren from a small passage off to the side of the room.

They followed Gren through the tight fitting passage and into a room similar in size to the last great hall they just left.

“This must be the second great hall the riddle spoke off,” said Gren.

The others could do nothing but agree.

* * *​ 
Kuth’lik traveled the distance between the planes with ease, he was a demon, a powerful demon and he was not bound to the limitations of the mortals in the mutli-verse. He knew where to find his master, he knew well, for long centuries of servitude had given him insight to his master where-abouts.

Kuth’lik saw his master the instant he arrived in this small out of the way quasi plane. He waited for a moment, for a mortal, hours may have passed, but to one such as he, it was the blind of an eye. Time had different meanings to those who where not bound to it. He waited until his master had stopped from his observations to address her.

“I know they have found the tomb,” casually replied Acererack.

“They have breached the second great halls master.”

“Have they now,” he said with a flare of arrogance, well, monitor their progress.”

Kuth’lik thought to question Acererack, but he knew better. In the past such questions had brought him no end of pain. Someday someone would come along and put Acererack in his place, but many have entered the Tomb and none have survived.

Well, none have survived in the end, some had survive the Tomb itself, they had survived the test, but none had survived the final test. It would not be until then that he would be free of Acererack, but with the poor quality of choices that these adventures had made, they would not last until he end.
* * *​On another plane, another watched with interest for he too had a vested interest in the out come of the party. He had come to know peace in the short time he had been here, but now he was troubled with a new burden. For now he could do nothing but watch in dismay.​


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 12, 2005)

*Session 23 Module the Tomb of Horrors*

“Shun green if you can, but night’s good color is for those of great valor.” The words rang in the ears of all of them. Death had welcomed them twice and none of them wanted to die here, in this Tomb of Horrors, but a riddle was before them and they needed to solve it if they wished to survive. This time they left nothing to chance, they again covered the hall, from top to bottom, they poked everything before touching and poked twice for good measure. Every step was checked for traps and every door opened from as much as a distance as possible. 

This great hall was exactly the same shape and size as the last great hall, there could be no doubt that they found the second great hall. This one too had many drawings on the wall, but instead of scenes from ancient times, this mosaic pictured odd figures foreign to the adventurers. Most of these figures had human bodies, all had heads that were not human, ranging from birds to dogs to bats. Each also held a sphere of some type and in a different color.

The party had found another arch too, at the end of the hallway. Like the last one, this one had colored stone but these, unlike the last one, did not change the mists. 

They never disappeared.

While the others where fooling around with the magical arch, nameless was in the side room contemplating the days journeys. He was settling himself into a state of calm, meditating on events, trying to find a solution that the others might have missed. From the distance, he heard them in the other room and then there was silence. He heard them no more. He was just trying to sneak a peek from around the corner of the hall when he felt a hand touch him on the back, it was Shump. He was completely naked and was grappling with nameless.

“If we are naked, then so too shall you,” cried shump. Not sure of his motivations but sure he didn’t like the sound of it, he broke the grip on the mans arms and fled for the next room. Soon, the whole of the party flooded from the small room he had been in and it became apparent to nameless that they were messing with the portal and it had not only teleported them to the beginning of the Tomb, but it had some how stripped them of all gear. Now so some reason, they felt a compulsion to make nameless the same, by shoving him into the portal as well. 

Nameless was a monk of the first order and had sworn an oath of poverty, he had very little in terms of wealth or possessions, but never the less, he felt a sense of entrapment from the rest of his comrades and didn’t want to go through the arch. It looked however, that he had little choice, he was getting surrounded and grabbed by everyone and they were dragging him into the arch. He didn’t want to do it, but he had no choice, his friends had violated his personal space and went against his wishes, he had no choice, he concentrated for a moment and tried to shift his body through the strands of time and space and slip from one place to another. He triggered the fail safes of the tomb to prevent escaping or cheating the tomb of fun from those who would teleport to the end or as a means of escape.

It was the last mistake he ever made.

Shump screamed in agony, as did they all. On either side of the party appeared two balors. One talked in a painful language of evil so vile that just to hear the blasphemous words caused everyone who heard them to stand around in a stupor. They could barely stand their own ground and protect themselves from harm. While one did this, the other summoned a Maralith, a general of the armies of the Abyss, to do its bidding. It immediately went for Shump and wrapped its coils around the huge barbarian and began to grapple the man, squeezing the life from him.

The first kept speaking in its vile tounge while the second drew forth its massive sword of flame and thunger and struck at Nameless with its lethal blade while it cracked its flaming whip at Gren. The sword missed its mark, nameless just barely able to dodge out of its way, but Gren on the other hand was not so lucky as the whip wrapped around his legs and entangled the man. He then turn his attention to Delvin and with an unseen force, blasted the woman/man, with a force of unseen energy, knocking her through the air. 

Dlevin, normally blind, could see the evil radiating from the demons. They stood out in stark contrast to the blackness of being blind. He watched as the battle rages on. No, it was not a battle, it was a slaughter, the first balor had continued speaking in its evil tongue, causing all that heard it to be unable to react. He watched as the second balor struck down with his mighty blade of flame and thunder, striking Gren a fatal blow that severed his head. He watched as the Maralith continued to squeeze the life from Shump. 

He had had enough.

In that moment, watching Gren’s head fall from its neck and roll towards him, he had gained a strength that he could not describe. His naked body gleamed in the flickering torch light. The Collar around her neck, the ring of Pelor, began to glow, a holy light that spread over her naked form and made her eyes glow. She drew into herself the power of Pelor, a divine force of unmatchable power. With each passing moment, as her power grew, her faith in Pelor increased as well. Somewhere, deep inside, she could her a long forgotten friend, whether it was Pelor himself or someone else, she could not tell. When she could not stand a moment more of the power she held within, she released the power and directed it at the first Balor. 

She watched as the white light of holy energy struck the demon and it paused for a moment, unable to move as the unfiltered power or Pelor struck the beast and in a moment of pain it was gone, exploded into thousands of tiny pieces of demon flesh that soon became eaten up by the power of Pelor.

With the First Demon gone, Shump flew into a frenzied rage, a furry so mighty that he broke the hold that the maralith had on him and began pummeling the demon with his bare fists. A normal man would not effect such a beast of the outer planes, but in his rage he was strong enough to slowly pummel the beast and make her pay. He paid for every blow however, while he could hit and wound the demon, he was not trained in the art of fighting unarmed as Nameless was and for every attack that he had landed she had hit him with two in return. Again a normal man would have fallen from the many wounds, but the others had seen him in this frenzied state and they had know from past experiences that such a man as he would not succumb to such wounds until his rage had abated.

While Devlin gathered her power again and blasted the second balor with a lingering fraction of the power that remained. This time it was not enough to kill the beast, but it was greatly wounded, not wounded enough to prevent it from casting spells however. At that moment he pointed a finger at the wily monk and Devlin could do nothing as she watched in horror as the body of the Nameless imploded in on itself. She screamed again and again blasted the demon with a force of divine might that did its job and slew the demon.

Shump, after having battered the demon to a bloody pulp looked for a new beast to slay. He bled from every manner of cut. It was amazing that the man could still stand, muscle and sinew could be seem and in places hung on shreds of flesh. He turned his murderous rage on his friends for lack of any other enemy to attack. He could not help himself, he had to kill, he could not stop himself. He focused his rage on Sir Darian, a man whom he considered a friend, but now, he might as well have just been a demon. He bloodied the man in one blow, a lucky strike that knocked the naked man from his feat and lifted him from the ground and he was dead before he even hit the ground. As Sir Darian flew through the air he could feel the touch of Delvin as the man cast a spell that healed the man of all of his wounds. Flesh reformed itself and mended in front of every ones eyes. Then, an instant later, a calming effect came over Shump and he was able to regain control of himself.

Silence filled the room. No one could make sense of what had happened and none pointed fingers at anyone. Three more had died and that was not acceptable. Everyone gathered their wits and placed dead bodies neatly to the side of the tomb, bringing them to the front of the entrance, for when they left, if they left.

They took an inventory of the items they had left, they had no food, no water, no weapons save for those the maralith had on her, and three artifacts that seemed to not disappear as the other items had. The Ring of Pelor, The Penetrating Dagger of Dulum and the orb of the Ancients. One other thing they now had, or at least Delvin had, she could now see. She was still blind as most would consider, but she could make out shapes in the light, which is more than the total blackness that she had seen before her.

Throughout the course of systematically checking the hall for traps, they had uncovered the master illusions hidden behind the spheres. They had found three illusions and after much debate, they had decided to go down the illusion of the black sphere for the riddle had said, ‘by night’s good color is for those of great valor.’ Although, after the situation at the Tormentor, the party was cautious and slow moving through the tight tunnel. It lead to a dead end, but some careful searching exposed a way through. It lead into a small hallway, seventy feet long and ten feet wide. They rest of the party slowly came through the tight fitting hole. The hallway was plain an unadorned, save for a massive ten foot by twenty foot door, a simple desk and a cloaked figure sitting in the chair behind it.

* * *​
On another plane a tormented soul felt a calling to return, but he was in a state of bliss. He had served his purpose in life and wanted no part in the dealings of man. Still, he considered it.

* * *​
Acererack sensed the death and mayhem in his Tomb, but he was beginning to become disappointed in this band of individuals. He had hoped that these brave and foolish adventurers would serve their purpose in life and pass his tests. Acererack had needs, but not the need for the weak. It could only wait to see what would happen. 

* * * * * * *​ 
If you are following along with your own copy of the module, you will notice some inconsistencies. This night the party was in a funky mood. They thought that if four of them were dumb enough to jump through the second arch and lose all their gear then the rest of the party should be forced to the same fate. I don’t understand it either, drove me nuts, but that is a players job some times, okay, all the times, to drive the DM nuts.

The module calls for a chance that a demon gets summoned when certain spells are cast. I changed this to a demon will be summoned every time a spell is cast of the right type. This brought the PCs to think they could farm XP, so for every summon they did by teleporting or dimension door or the like, I had a progressively harder demon fight the party. When they got to the Balor, I started over, but had them summoned in pairs. They stopped before having two balor to deal with. While having a fit and trying to throw Nameless into the arch, nameless said ‘screw this’ and did an abundant step, triggering two balors. Many died, yes it was foolish, still not sure what they were thinking.

I also ruled that artifacts would not be effects by the teleporting of all gear from the party. Partly cause the artifacts in the game are custom and plot points and partly cause even though Acrerack is powerful, I feel that he should not be able to effect an item of ancient power like an artifact. 

If you are wondering, Shump is a barbarian frenzied warrior orc (the world is mostly evil, so I allow a large selection of races to choosed from) and he was able to gain a strength score so high that he could hit the maralith and damage the Demon and punch the demon to death. Cause of his frenzied state he could not die. 

NOTE FOR OTHER DMs, NEVER ALLOW A FRENZIED WARRIOR INTO THE PARTY. YOU WILL REGRET IT!!!

As to the hallway, I added a change to the temple and this is part of it.


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 13, 2005)

*Session 24 Module the Tomb of Horrors*

_They have a need of you._A voice told him in his head. He knew the voice, he knew it well, it had been there all his life and had guided him throughout it and called him home when it was over. He had listened to it for as long as he knew, he obeyed it without question and spread its word far and wide. It was his guiding light when times where dark and his inspiration to help the faithless. 

Now, he wished he could just rest, and hear the voice no more.

“I know,” he said, “but there is nothing I can do about it. I have earned my final reward, I have suffered for a life time, the matters of the mortal realm are none of my concern.” He knew he was being selfish, but here on this plane, his feelings of guilt subsided as quickly as they came. His woes quickly left his mind.

_They will die without you._ The voice did not change its tone and did not waver in intent. It was not ordering or comparing, just stating the facts.

“I could not enter now, the Tomb is sealed.” In this plane, in the after-life, he had access to knowledge that others in the Prime Material did not. He knew the layout of the Tomb, he knew the traps and he knew that once a group had entered the Tomb, none could break the seal, not even the gods.

_I have a need of you, will you serve?_

“I,” he wanted to say yes, but he had earned his place in the after-life, he had fought the cause and had proved a valuable agent to his God, but now he wanted what was promised to him, he wanted his final rest. Here he would sit at the table of his God, here he was respected, here he had knowledge and comfort and no worries. This was his home now. 

If he were to leave, he would lose all knowledge he had gained, he would lose his place at the table of his God, he would lose so much.

_You have all you could ever want, I can offer you nothing more._

“No,” he said, and he reflected on his friends for a moment. He thought back to all the good times they had and all the good they had spread in a would dominated by evil. They had done so much, they too deserved their final rest, but in the end, if Acererack were to take their souls, they would never see that rest, they would forever live in torment. “I do not have everything.”

_Then you accept._

“How can I gain entry?”

_I will bend the past and the present together, for a moment time will converge at a central point and your spirit can enter. There is a chance that you may never come back, a chance that your souls too will not find a body but instead be torn between the span of time, never to return to any plane. In that event, I can not help you._

“When do I leave?”

* * *​ 
The small hallway lead to a door which held a desk in font of the door and behind the weathered oaken desk sat a cloaked man all in black. Deep robes of an inky black that seemed to absorb light. Stonecracker was about to charge the man behind the desk and slay him before he had a chance to cast a spell or summon guards, but then something hit him. This Tomb had been abandoned for eons, one way in and no way out, how did this man get here.

As a paladin of Helm, he could sense evil in all beings, but he sensed no evil in this man. In good faith he could not attack this man until he had wronged him. He noticed something else too, the air in the Tomb seemed a bit more clear, not so stale, as if someone had opened the main gates of the tomb forever more and fresh air could plow into this place and cleansed it. It was at this time the figure looked up from his ledger and addressed the adventurers.

“Greetings friends,” he said, “have you come to worship at the temple?”

Feeling were mixed, but almost unanimously, Oaklin, stonecracker boulderwacker, shump and Delvin had said “yes.”

“You must be of a new sect,” the figure said as he observed the nude party at the door, “what name may I register you under?”

They gave their names and the man entered them in the ledger. “You may enter.”

They cautiously entered the temple. It was a seventy-by-seventy foot room with rich tapestries and imported silks lavishly decorating the temple walls. The walls themselves were painted with scenes of the normal life of the time. However, the people had rotten flesh, skeletal hands, worms eating them and flesh hanging from their bones. Yet there were also depicted various religious symbols of good aligned individuals and Delvin detected that in deed good was radiating from the walls about them. It flashed in his mind for a moment, could Acererack actually be good?

A wooden railing divided the room. North of it was two rows of eight heavy oaken wooden benches divided down the center to create an aisle, each bench had a number of other black robed figured kneeling in various stats of prayer. South of it was an Opalescent Blue Alter, and on either side was a large brass candelabra, each was holding five white candles and in each corner a large white pottery urn stoppered with a brass and wood plug. To the right of the alter was yet one more misty arch.

The room seemed normal at that point, but Delvin stopped in his tracks for a moment. Something was different, something out of place. Aside from the figures in black robes, something struck him as odd. He pushed it to the back of his mind. They took seats at the front of the temple, the only seats left to them. They were offered black robes and gladly put them on and then kneeled and gave thanks to their own Gods.

Devlin opened her eyes for just a moment, and in a flash, she saw something out of place again. She swore she saw a glimpse of a man, an artist by the look of him, painting the walls of the temple, then in the blink of an eye he was gone. Perhaps it was a trick of her eye sight returning. She concentrated a moment and allowed her other senses to make sense of her surroundings. 

Since her eye sight had left her, her other senses had awakened. They were slightly more acute that they had been. She concentrated on the smell of the place, for the most part it was fresh air, but every now and then it was just the same stale centuries old air they had been breathing since entering the tomb. She could hear the shuffling of the other robed men in the pews behind her and in an instant she heard nothing and then she threw her head about in a frantic pace. Her eye sight was still weak, she could not make out shapes very well, but for an instant, she thought that the black robed men were gone.

She looked around, the Opalescent Blue Alter was not Obsidian Black and a chard mark filled a ten foot diameter around the alter. She was more and more confused.

Then the canting stopped and a ghostly priest materialized from behind the alter. He had on the same inky black robes. His cowl was held low and his hands wrapped in bandages. Stonecracker and Delvin sense it immediately, they felt the presence of evil, but too late, they were wrapped in the dark chants from the vile mouthed Priest. As the Balor had cast his blasphemous words, so had this priest. 

They were stunned in disbelief, literally. However, lucky for them, these priest were more concerned in their ritual then noticing them. The canting went on for hours and pushed them all to the point of breaking. During that time it happened more frequently, Delvin could see glimpses out of the corner of her eye of slaves working on the temple and more men in black robes, enev what looked like other adventurers going through the room and then an empty temple, but under the influence of the vile words, she could do nothing about it. 

Then, after what seemed an endless amount of time, the priest spoke and a black misty form appeared through a vent in the ceiling. The black mist split into two ghostly figures, Delvin recognized them as the Dread Wraiths they had encountered in the swamp. Between the two of them, they held a small bundle and placed it on the remains of the Alter.

It was a bundle that was small for them, but to Delvin, it was a human sized bundle, like a man wrapped in a death shroud, but the man would have to have been thin or decomposed. As the bundle was human only in length. They fastened the bundle to the alter and began a ritual that Delvin recognized. A ritual of resurrection. The rite was not terribly long and as the ritual came to a close, the bundle grew in width and bulk and started to move.

A holy light was shining from within the bundle and the Dread Wraiths backed away from the bundle. 

“Acererak, as I give my life to your service, so take this soul to the same,” and he then raised a sacrificial dagger high in the air.

It was at that moment, when the priest had offered the soul of this man to Acererack, that the vile tongue of the priest had ceased, and gave the heroes a small moment to act. They did not know who was in that bundle, but they had heard enough to know that this man did not deserve to die. Delvin called down the power of Pelor and his eyes and the Ring of Pelor glowed as the floor cracked below the Dark Priest and the fissure swallowed the vile man whole.

The rest of the party struck out at the remaining black robed men a slew them quickly while the light from the bundled man grew brighter and engulfed the alter and the Dread Wraith in flames. From inside the ash, a man rose from the alter and stood in defiance atop it. He canted a word of faith to his God.

“May the light of Pelor take this alter and sanctify this temple, cleanse it from evil,” cried the man at that moment the temple was shed in light and a loud crack erupted from the alter as it split the Opalescent Blue Alter in two. A moment later the light died down, the black robed men were gone and all that remained was the stale air of the long vacant tomb, the empty temple and a blackened circle of burnt ash surrounding the split in two Opalescent Blue Alter.

Delvin looked at the man standing on the alter. Her vision was getting better all the time. The stronger his faith became, the clearer he could see. He recognized the men, he knew the power, Khael had returned.

* * *​ 
It was an unforeseen event, something had happened that he did not expect, something that he was not prepared for. Acererack knew every inch in his tomb and he had no knowledge of any worshippers, no priests. Something was amiss, namely how this man had returned from the dead. He pondered canceling the test, killing them now, just to end it. Others would come, others would do. He thought about it but decided against it. If this Khael could defy death, then he was all the stronger and would be all the sweeter when he drank his soul.


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 16, 2005)

*Session 25 Module the Tomb of Horrors*

“Well, the skeleton points to the arch,” said Shump, “I think we are to go in.”

“But the arches have been nothing but trouble so far,” said Delvin, “we lost Rupert to the first one and three others cause of the second one.”

“If shades of red stand for blood the wise will not need to sacrifice aught but a loop of magical metal - you’re well along your march.,” quoted Khael getting caught up to date.

“Stonecracker, stop looking around the room will ya, we are trying to solve this riddle,” said Oaklin, “I think this must be correct, orange is a shade of red, the color of blood.”

“Perhaps blood is an ill omen,” grumbled the dwarf, mostly to himself, “not to be bothered with,” Stonecracker was searching the walls and pews and broken alter, looking for anything they may have forgotten.

“Well, how about this,” cried Shump as he picked up the skeleton on the floor and threw it into the misty arch. They waited a moment and heard it hit the wall on the far side of the arch.

“Looks like it doesn’t get teleported anywhere,” replied Khael.

“Well, must be the way to go then,” said Shump and he walked into the arch before anyone could stop him. Time passed and nothing. Then, a blood curdling scream came from the arch and a skeleton came flying out of the misty arch. A smoldering pile of bones broke on the ground before them and the skull landed at Delvins feat. 

Another had died.

Then came the laughter.

Not a chilling laughter from a long dead lich, not a nervous laughter to break the tension but a ‘I got you,’ laughter from Shump.

“You should have seen the look on your eyes,” he screamed and then grabbed his mouth. It was higher pitch then before. He thought his voice had just cracked and tried to talk again. “What the…,”

“If shades of red stand for blood ,” said Khael as he looked upon the nude, female body of Shump as she walked out of the mist. She instantly returned, to the mist, more in embarrassment than for any other reason. When they could finally get her out she was the same in attitude as before, but not in looks. 

“This wizard has no bounds in decency,” she instantly flew into a rage and ran about the small room screaming at the top of her lungs. She finally settled down when Stonecracker spoke.

“Stop your whining, told ya not to do it,” cried the dwarf, “in all my five years in the dwarven navy I have never heard someone wail as much as ye. Now come here, I think I found something.”

All of them gathered around the faint ‘O’ above a small slot. Khael dug in his bag for a moment and pulled forth a ring of magic. He inserted it into the slot and waited.

“If shades of red stand for blood the wise will not need to sacrifice aught but a loop of magical metal - you’re well along your march,” quoted Khael and as he finished a small two foot wide by four foot high and ten inch thick wedged shaped block of stone moved from its hidden place and crushed the magic ring.

They piled through the small hole and found it lead to a hallway. They moved slowly from the room along the hall until they found a door. It studied the door for a long time before opening it. Khael even cast spells to see through illusions and to detect traps. They found none.

They opened the door and that is when they found the first trap. Oaklin cast a spell and flew them, one at a time, over the pit. When the come upon the second door, they followed the same procedure. 

“Two pits along the way will be found to lead to a fortuitous fall, so check the wall,” quoted Khael.

“So, we should look for a fortuitous fall here,” queried Shump as she began to look about.

“No, I think it means that on the other side of that door will be another pit and something in the bottom of the pit will be fortuitous,” said Delvin. Sure enough there was a pit on the other side of the door and a pit. Oaklin flew them to the bottom of the pit once he had discovered that a hidden door was in the bottom of the pit. It opened to yet another passageway with stairs leading down. Khael, under the influence of his True Sight spell, noticed the secret passage to the left, but they decided to check out where the stairs lead to first.

On the second landing the stairs descended into yet more mist. They had had enough of mists now and cast spells to blow the mists from the hallway. They caught the glimpse of a door before the mist started to roll back. They threw balls of fire at the mists, trying to burn it away, to no avail. They cast several more spells to continue blowing the mist back and they ran for the door. Once they touched the door, the mist subsided and a booming voice from the whole of the chamber made a demand.

“WHO DARES TO DISTURB THE REST OF ACERERAK?” he boomed, “IT IS YOUR DEATH WHICH YOU HAVE FOUND.”

From the far side of the room, a figure dressed in rotting robes stood from his gold couch and began to move to attack the party.

The party threw all manner of spells at the Lich, but it was Shump that hit it with three quick and furious hits from a silver in-laid mace he found at the base of the stairs. At this point, the mace shattered, the lich whither to nothing and the room began to shake. The whole of the ceiling started to crash down upon them.

“That cannot be Acererack,” said shump as he fled the room, “he died to quickly for someone who designed a Tomb of this power.”

“I think there is more to it than this,” said Delvin, “there is more to the riddle from the entrance, this cannot be it.”

“There is more to the Tomb,” said Khael, “a secret passage down the side of the top of the stairs.

* * *​Kuth’lik waited until the party left. He knew they would not be back to sift through the rubble, none ever returned. He began to clean the room and set things straight. He removed the illusions cast about the place and recreated the mummy and the spells that would protect it from the next batch of adventurers who might come this way. He programmed the voice and carefully laid down another silver in-laid mace at the base of the stairs. After everything was in place and reconstructed, he cast two last spells and bound them to a permanent effect. One was a set of thin webs that he cast at the base of the stairs and the other replaced the fear gas that filled the hall.

_They might just make it, _he thought for a moment. _They have pulled themselves together, it only took the loss of five lives to make them think about things before leaping. They might just make it to the end. _Then he reflected to the rest of the tomb and how much further they had to go_. _

_Perhaps they may not._


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jun 18, 2005)

Hey DM-Rocco,

I remember reading your Lizard Bait SH (you mentioned that coming back - when you planning for? You already got me as a reader), so gave this one a whirl.

I haven't finished reading through yet. About half way. A succubus just got beheaded.

Anyway, good stuff so far - liking the characters thus far and plus I seem to remember having Acererack as a Spellfire card years and years ago. Sigh.

Spider J


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 21, 2005)

Thanks for your support, nice to hear from you.

I do plan on finishing Lizard Bait, I have been away for a while, damn it, everyone was correct about not having time once you are raising a child.

Anyway, I want to get this thread up to date to where the characters are in my game.  This one is a bit different than Lizard Bait in that this one is based on my characters adventurers and Lizard Bait originated from a contest I entered to write a fantasy short story.  

My players are really hounding me since I haven't kept it up.

Once that happens, I will finish Lizard bait.  I have the ending done, just need to bridge the gap 

Thanks again for reading, glad you like.  Wish a few more people would throw out a nice word from time to time, just so I know that people are reading, gives one a boost to know that people like your work.


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## the Jester (Jun 21, 2005)

DM-Rocco said:
			
		

> Wish a few more people would throw out a nice word from time to time, just so I know that people are reading, gives one a boost to know that people like your work.





What I found really increases the rate of other people posting is to get the players to do so.... several of my most vocal fans now are players in my campaign.  The really cool thing is that they always add lil bits I'm missing, or correct me when I misremember!  Good stuff...


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## Dawn (Jun 21, 2005)

Hey DM-Rocco, found this SH two days ago and just finished reading it.  Good story so far.  I never ran Tomb of Horrors or went through it so this is all new to me.  

Keep it coming.


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 21, 2005)

Dawn said:
			
		

> Hey DM-Rocco, found this SH two days ago and just finished reading it. Good story so far. I never ran Tomb of Horrors or went through it so this is all new to me.
> 
> Keep it coming.




Thanks for the kind words.  The Tomb of Horrors really pisses off the players, but ya know, they can't always be happy.  They are actually out of it now, that is how far behind I am, trying my best to hurry though.



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> What I found really increases the rate of other people posting is to get the players to do so.... several of my most vocal fans now are players in my campaign. The really cool thing is that they always add lil bits I'm missing, or correct me when I misremember! Good stuff...




My players, rather than complain here, just yell at me in person when things are not correct.  Which is fine, but it wouldn't hurt one or two of them to say, hey, stop smoking crack, what really happened was this.  

Some events are a bit different, edited for content to make the story a bit more exciting, but for the most part it is as it happened.

At least then they would get into the swing of things a bit more   As of now, they just complain about how unfair I am cause I gave them a chance in the Tomb of Horrors to realize the doors where most-likely all trapped and false.  Rather than making an INT or WIS check, I made them roll a sense motive check on the door, trying to give them better odds, instead I get ridicule.  

Go figure, can't win either way.  Either I am evil cause I run them through a death trap or don't give them XP until the current mission is over, or I am evil cause I make them roll a sense motive on an inanitmate object to singnify their vast experience in dealing with such things, DMs way of trying to aid them a bit. 

Whatever happened to the DM is always right?


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## DM-Rocco (Jun 30, 2005)

*Session 26 Module the Tomb of Horrors*

Khael, Delvina, Shump, Oaklyn and Stone Cracker made their way into a large sixty-foot by forty-foot room that appeared to be a laboratory. It appeared to be a large preparation chamber of some type. Every wall was lined with numerous shelves; each was filled with odds and ends, small clay jars, vials, coffers, etc. The dust that covered all of the shelves was thick and fell away in chunks when they took a closer examination of the contents of the shelves. The room also held a large desk and stool, two workbenches and two mummy preparation tables. Clay pots and urns littered the floor and bits of dried herbs, bone, skulls and the like were haphazardly strewn about the room.

They spent hours searching through the shear volume of crap in the room, but only one item proved useful to them. In the bottom of one of the large vats was a half of a golden key. Khael had tried to get the key by poking the end of his staff in the pool, but he pulled it out when the end of the staff started to dissolve from a slow acting acid. He cast a prayer to his God Pelor and his God granted him protection from the acid and the half of the key was gained.

The other half of the golden key was in yet another vat, hidden under a gray ochre jelly. Delvina, who had experience with such creatures in the past, used a combination of divine energy and flame to kill the creature. Once done, they joined the two halves into one golden key.

Wanting to end this madness as quickly as possible, they left the room by its only exit and followed a corridor, down a set of stairs and around a corner. A twenty-foot pit was before them, ten feet deep. It appeared to easy and they took no chances with trying to crawl down into the pit, instead, Oaklyn made a wall of Force that covered the pit and they crossed in relative safety. It was also Oaklyn, with his keen elven eyes, that noticed the secret passage in the hallway just on the other side of the pit.

“So many secret passages in this tomb,” commented Oaklyn, “I wonder if we have found them all?”

They all filed into the next room, which was filled wall to wall with two giant tapestries. Four rotting sofas, several throne-like chairs, vases, urns and all manner of braziers all jumbled together. The room was in disrepair from centuries of neglect, the only things that seemed to be spared the ravages of time was the two tapestries. 

“No one move,” cautioned Oaklyn, “I’ll check things out.” Oaklyn moved into the thirty foot square room and immediately the floor shifted below his feet. No wonder the room was a mess; the floor seemed to be built on giant rollers and bearings. Every move he made shifted the floor. He stepped forward, dodging the mess on the floor and made his way to the tapestry on the western wall. He waited a moment to balance himself and then with his bow he pulled back the tapestry ever so slowly.

He didn’t need his elven sight to see the passageway beyond. He began to motion for the others to come when he lost his balance and the room shifted again and in order to hold his balance he instinctively reached for the nearest thing he could grab onto, the tapestry.

His life flashed before his eyes as the tapestry covered him. He could recall every moment of his long life in that split second of time that it took for the tapestry to fall on him. When the tapestry came down upon him and touched his skin his world ended. His skin turned green and burned and then pooled into a greenish acidy blob. He was now mindless ooze beyond the help of his comrades. 

* * *​On a plane, far from the Prime, Acererak let loose a slight smile as yet one more fell to the Horrors of the Tomb.


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jun 30, 2005)

> When the tapestry came down upon him and touched his skin his world ended. His skin turned green and burned and then pooled into a greenish acidy blob. He was now mindless ooze beyond the help of his comrades.



Fantastic! Pull no punches, like I've always said. Good stuff again Rocco, looking forward to the next...

Spider J


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 2, 2005)

*Session 26 Module the Tomb of Horrors*

“I cannot say,” said the voice from the mist. It was a sweet voice, a voice that calmed the heart and set one at easy with the first syllable escaping her lips. Gentle, with a touch of a silky seduction and melted in ones ears and lingered there, desperately awaiting her next words.

“Do you know the way to Acererak,” queried Khael, desperate to end this quest. He had not come through death only to find no way out of this God forsaken tomb. As a devoted cleric of Pelor he had seen many strange sites in his days and defeated many foes, but the fight was always straight up and forward, none of this sneaking around in a damp and dreary underground tomb of some ancient and long forgotten wizard.

“That is unknown to me,” came the sweet reply. In spite of his growing anger and frustration the voice calmed him, even though he could not see her through the mist in the natural cavern.

“Can you leave this place,” asked Delvina. Her new insight into womanhood had already had many changes in her way of thinking. She was beginning to understand other females more in the last six months than in the whole of her life as a man. She too wanted to get out of this place, wanted to desperately leave but the voice had affected her too and she also was being calmed.

“Possibly,” was her short reply?

“Well you join us,” asked Khael, “will you come to us?”

A long silence filled the misty room. Then slowly the silvery fog began to dissipate. The makings of a large grotto began to appear and from the center of the room, a U shaped cave became visible. In front of the cave was a lithe woman. Her beauty was unparalleled. Even Delvina, who many women in the past had remarked was this side shy of a God in looks, found this woman completely fascinating. 

“I will join you,” she said in her silky voice, “Acererak captured me long ago. How long I cannot remember. He imprisoned me with his magic. I was forced to stay in this cave, in this mist, for all time or until someone asked me to come forward out of the mist. Many I have seen come, none have ever asked me ever if I would come forth from the mists. Thank you for freeing me, I am in your debt and will travel with you until I may repay your act of kindness.”

Quickly the matter of her imprisonment and her willingness to join the party became settled as she was well received. She wanted one thing more than to repay her debt to the party for their aid, she wanted Acererak to pay and she meant to see it through to the end. 

She had no knowledge of the Tomb itself, she was bound and gagged and placed in her prison without the benefit of even knowing where the tomb was located let alone where in the tomb she was placed. She kept to herself but freely answered questions that the party had, although she felt inadequate as a guide since she could answer few of the questions they had asked. In deed she, after a moment of frustration, could not even remember her own name.

They all walked with care as they made their way back the way they had come and took a northern route, over a previously exposed pit to check out a door they had left for later examination. They slowly opened the door to yet another false door. A wall of brick was before them. They began to turn back when Delvina stopped them.

“If you find the false you find the true,” she said repeating the riddle from the red tiles at the start of the tomb and she took a more careful look at the wall. She found a secret passage in the wall, which lead into a long hallway, which led to a grouping of stair that went straight up into the ceiling. They then followed a side passage through a set of double doors and into yet one more hallway. 

It was then that the hall filled with gas. 

One by one they fell to the ground, completely asleep from a gas that filled the hallway. Khael, who had waited in the previous hallway, came into the gas filled hallway when he heard the large doors opening from the far end of the corridor. He immediately cast a prayer to his God and his body turned into a cloudy shape. He then moved towards the others. He touched Delvina and her body too became cloud like and transparent. From the far end of the hallway, a loud grinding noise came from a huge juggernaut. It was shaped like an elephant with huge giant rollers placed under the front and hind legs. The bulk of the juggernaut filled the whole of the passage.

Khael, not needing any prompting, knew that this was not a good sign and touched Stone cracker on the forehead. The dwarf too turned into a cloud like transparency, a ghostly version of himself. As he then touched the head of Shump with his ghostly hands and Shump too turned, he watched in horror as the bulk of the juggernaut impossibly turned towards the fallen party. It began to roll forward, crushing everything in its path. It was at the last second that he laid his hand on the forehead of the woman they had found in the cave. A close call to be sure as the rolling juggernaut passed harmlessly through the party.

After the others came too and they found that the room the juggernaut lead to a dead end, they backtracked to the door they had come through. Khael again cast a prayer to his God and his vision allowed him to see things true. Careful inspection of the area around the door however was needed to see the slight markings of yet one more secret passage.

“If you find the false you find the true,” mocked Khael, tired of this dreary tomb.

They followed a long tunnel to another passage that lead to another dead end, or rather a door they could not pass. It was a large door made of solid Adamantine and must have been a foot thick. Delvina tried to magic the door open by blasting it with disintegration spells, but it was protected from such magic. They soon discovered three small slots in the door itself. After some testing, they took three long swords from the slain maralith and placed them into the slots and the door slowly opened as it crushed the swords into worthless shards of steel.

“…and into the columned hall you’ll come, and there the throne that’s key and keyed,” exclaimed Stone cracker and the strolled into the large columned hall, “we are on the right track.”

“Ya think,” came the sarcastic reply from Shump.

Scores of massive pillars littered the huge chamber. Each was a full three feet in diameter and raised the full length of the thirty-foot ceiling. 

They made their way into the large room and examined everything. They found an area in the room where cinders, ashes charred bones and skull where crisped and blackened. Remains of clothing and gear, arms and armor where centrally located around a thoroughly awful and frightening sight; a glowing huge orange gem. Judging by the shear mass of destruction and mayhem that had happened in the past, none of them wanted to test the gem. Obviously it would prove fatal to those who touch it or go near it and they all had seen enough death to last them a lifetime.

They had also found the Ebony Dais and the Silver throne, but opted to check out the northern rooms first. In two of the rooms they found a low stone table upon which rested a large wooden sarcophagus. Various broken and looted chests, urns and coffins where scattered about the inside of the room. In each of the sarcophagus they had found two mummified humans that came to unlife when the large amethyst was removed from their eye sockets. Khael had anticipated such a thing to happen and with his divine might he sundered the mummies to their final rest before any of them could harm the party.

They then made their way to the Ebony Dais.

Contrasting with the pastel colors of the floor and pillars of the hall is the stark blackness of the huge dais atop which rests an obsidian throne inlaid with silver and ivory skulls. Upon the throne rested a crown and a scepter, both of which radiated an aura of magic.

“…And the throne that’s key and keyed,” said Delvina, “there must be something about the throne, something we are missing. Perhaps if I put the crown on my head,” and before anyone could stop her, she placed the crown of gold upon her head. Instantly two things happened to her. First, she could see clearly in the darkened pillared room as if it was clear as day. Second, she knew, somehow, that the only way to remove the crown was to touch the end of the scepter to the top of the crown. Unfortunately she still had no clue what the throne or the riddle meant.

“I am master of all that I see,” declared Delvina as she sat upon the throne.

“Get off the throne fool,” shouted Shump who was in no mood for tomfoolery. 

Then Stone cracker noticed an inlay at the base of the throne and he placed the scepter in the inlay and watched as the Ebony Dais slowly sank into the ground, creating a reverse set of stairs leading down. Behind the throne they found yet one more secret passage that lead to a grouping of stairs. They all entered the room, but when Delvina entered, she stopped dead in her tracks. 

She was completely blind again.

For a moment she thought she had angered her God again. She took a step back into the room whence she came and could immediately see again. In a frantic effort to remove the crown from her head she tried to rip it off of her head. After calming down, she remembered the scepter. The scepter was made of pure electrum with a gold ball at one end and a silver knob on the other.

“Gold to Gold,” Delvina said more to her self than to the others as she touched the gold end of the scepter to the golden crown. Instantly the crown fell from her head. 

The narrow passage behind the throne led to a landing and steps, which funneled out to the south as they ascended. The six steps where made of onyx, pink, marble, lapis, black marble, golden serpentine and malachite. The walls of the chamber where of an untarnished and gleaming copper panels set between rare woods inlaid with ivory. The ceiling was silver, formed so as to reflect and multiply light within the place. Upon the forth step lay a large cylindrical key of bronze for all of them to behold. 

At the head of the steps was a pair of huge doors. The doors where fourteen feet wide and twenty-eight feet tall and made of pure mithril. Doors of this height had to be at least three feet thick and they seemed to be impregnated with great magics that made them absolutely spell proof. In a cup like depression, about waist height, was a hemispherical concavity with a central hole. They appeared to be a keyhole of some type and the key placed upon the floor upon the stairs appeared to fit a set of valves. 

Khael tried the key on the ground in the door and a jolt of electricity shot through his arm. He cast another prayer to his God to protect him from harm and he tried the key again. His protections stopped him from coming to harm but it did not open the door. He then tried the first key he had found and another jolt ran through his body, but the God of the Sun protected his faithful from harm. Stone cracker then took the scepter from the Delvina and placed it into the door and turned it, as he did the doors slowly opened inward.

The imposing chamber beyond had a silver ceiling, just as the foyer had, so it was bright. The walls were of ivory with gold inlaid. The floor was polished but otherwise just a common agate. In each of the corners of the room hulked a massive nine-foot tall statue of black iron. The one to the northeast stood with a saw-toothed two-handed sword raised to strike; the one to the northwest held a huge spiked mace, to the southeast the sculpture readied a wickedly spiked morning star and the one to the southwest held a voulge.

“If you say it I will kill you myself,” threatened Khael.

“The iron men of visage grim do more than meets the viewers eye,” quoted Shump, who was unafraid of Khael’s threats, “you’ve left and left and found my tomb and now your soul will die.”

Four other objects caught the eyes of the party. A bronze urn, a granite sarcophagus and two iron chests. They started by going to the two iron chests. The iron chests proved to be very hard to open. They could easily see that the iron chests had been beaten in the past by the evidence of the pry marks and battered condition of the outside of the iron chests. Khael searched the chests locks and discovered a trap. He cast another prayer to his God and the traps in the chests split apart and dismantled. Inside where hundreds of coins and gems. A final offering for the wizard before he died perhaps. They eagerly put them into Khael’s bag of holding and then studied the Sarcophagus.

The huge outer shelf had the glyphs spelling ACERERACK on the lid in platinum. The far end of the sarcophagus had been shattered and fallen in upon itself. Inside the granite coffin laid bits of wooden inner shelves, a few bones, destroyed jewelry, torn bits of robes and windings, dust and what Delvina speculated was a broken staff of the magi. A shattered skull rolled out as Shump was poking around the contents of the sarcophagus. 

The skull fell to the floor at Shumps feet.

They went to the bronze urn next. The gold-filigreed containers were very large, and a thin stream of smoke issued from a tiny vent in its brass stopper, which was sealed shut with gold fill. Shump, a man of great strength, effortlessly ripped the brass stopper from the gold fill seal. The mists swirled around as they grew in intensity. The mist formed the shape of a man, a human in torso up and a lower body of thick reddish smoke that nearly choked those who were to close to the man.

“I thank you for freeing me from the urn,” said the efreet, “ I must leave, be on my way, but before I depart, I offer you three services in thanks for releasing me.”

“Where is Acererak,” asked Khael without thinking?

“The iron men of visage grim do more than meets the viewers eye,” quoted the efreet, “ you’ve left and left and found my tomb and now your soul will die.”

“Way to be efficient Khael,” chastised Shump, “perhaps next time you would wish for us to start at the beginning.”

“Take us to Acererak,” said Khael as he shot Shump a dirty look.

“Then help us defeat him,” added Delvina.

* * *​A magical void of pure energy had just been ripped through the fabric of reality and Acererak had just been exploring a combination of Alteration and Necromancy to join together two forces of magic into one when he sensed the release of the efreet on the prime material plane. They were close, closer than others had been for a long time. He could almost taste their souls. Almost but not yet.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 7, 2005)

*Session 28 Module the Tomb of Horrors*

Shump tightly clenched the Dagger of Dulum in her mighty hand. A dagger was a small cutting weapon used mainly by thieves and assassins in the dead of the night for a good close quarter mugging or a slight throat. A dagger was not a mighty weapon that one would take into the thick of battle. One would normally prefer the long length of a bastard sword or the awesome cutting power of a double bladed axe, the bone crunching strength of a massive war hammer or the reach of a long spear, but not the lithe fragile blade of a dagger.

In spite of its small size, Shump had decided to use this simple blade instead of the Claymore that she had taken from the fallen Maralith. It was small in her massive hand but she knew the power behind the blade. Some blades where endowed with magic to make one easier to hit and some made deeper wounds while others could summon the elements to do different types of damage, but not this blade. The Dagger of Dulum was not one of those. It had power, but not like that. It wasn’t able to hit things easier or bit deeper or slay being on touch, but it did have power. It had been kissed by the Gods of old to be able to penetrate any substance.

Shump used the blade to bite deep into the base of the old statue of the warrior grim and hacked and sliced effortlessly like a hot blade through butter. Soon enough metal was removed that the remains of the statue fell from the base. The remains were mere child’s play for one of her strength to discard.

The Efreet’s smoky body slid down the tunnel underneath and stopped at the next intersection until the others caught up to him. The Efreet just pointed to a small opening that was metal lined - obviously a keyhole. Shump thought for a moment to just cut through the metal with the Dagger of Dulum. She then thought better of it. In such a dungeon as this, where clues were everywhere, it was a bad idea to just bypass things that were meant to be opened in a certain way. Doing so often meant disastrous consequences for those involved, in spite of the good intentions of those seeking an easier way.

Shump instead reached for the Golden key and inserted it into the hole and turned the key. A stone slab of tremendous thickness, sheathed in adamantine, sunk to the floor. A smallish ten-foot by twenty foot burial vault with a arched vaulted ceiling that rose to a twenty five foot peak was the room that was revealed. To the parties disappointment there was nothing in this smallish room.

Of course the party was used to such things at this point and immediately inspected the room. A small depression found, a few inches deep and about two inches square in the center of the floor was found. It took but a moment to find the other keyhole. Shump inserted the second key they had found and turned it counter clock wise until she felt the room start to quake. Immediately the floor began to rise and peak into sections as the whole of the floor began to rise into the air. Shump and the others rushed back the way they came just as the floor crashed into the ceiling.

Shump was tired of this tomb, they all were.

Shump flew into a rage, an unbridled rage of such fury that she surprised herself when she could barely recognize friend from foe. She jumped to her feet in one swift motion and raced for the mithril vault that was now exposed under where the floor had just been raised. She grasped the massive mithril pull ring and ripped the door from its hinges. A loud crash came when the southern room was exposed as the door thudded to the stone floor. 

The room beyond contained an enormous amount of gold and gems and items of all kinds from the many victims of Acererak over the long eons of the Tombs wicked existence. Potions of magic and old weathered scrolls littered the floor as did magic rings and rods and staves and swords. Items from mighty magical relics of old to the groups items lost during teleportation were strewn about the place, but these mattered not to Shump. She had a murderous need revealed in the glint of her eye. A quick scan of the room revealed a small skull encrusted with gems on the far side of the room. She raced past the others and charged the remains on the alter on the far side of the room.

As she did so a misty form rose into the air, a ghostly form of an ancient wizard. She could hear the call of the dwarf, hear the call of his friend, the Foe Hammer, he heard the shout of “law bringer.” Shump, tired of tricks and relying on a gut feeling, rushed straight through the form of the ghostly wizard and lunged for the gem-encrusted skull. The skull was normal in most respects save two. Where the teeth had been now where replaced with teeth of giant green emeralds and where the eyes used to be two huge diamonds took their place. Shump, as she lunged through the air in a mighty leap, tried to aim for one of the diamonds in the skull with the Dagger of Dulum. As she flew through the air the ancient dusty remains of Acererak’s body swirled in a breeze and formed the body of yet another wizard and at the last second the skull rose into the air to top off the wizardly ghost. As the skull rose into the air, Shump missed her mark as the dagger of Dulum bite deep into the stone alter of Acererak’s final haunt.

From a distance a calming song filled her heart, but she fought through it. She bore down on her hatred and anger and raged into action. Shump regained her senses with lightning speed and was soon on her feet again, swinging with wild abandon at the skull. It proved to be ever elusive. She swung with her mighty fist in a thrusting motion and just missed the skull as it skillfully dodged out of the way. She then retreated her right hand and made another thrust but this two proved to be less than effective as the skull of Acererak narrowly missed being hit by the mighty blade.

Shump then noticed the skull hesitate for a moment and a flash of light blinded her for a split second, but not enough to disrupt her next attack. She flipped the dagger around so the hilt of the blade would reinforced her punches and if those missed, the protruding blade would most likely catch her prey since the blade was now facing away from her. The blade would slash her opponent now instead of pierce from a thrust. She made a motion to slash her opponent with the blade and again Acererak skillfully dodged the attack but then Shump quickly reversed the direction of the attack and back fisted the blade into the floating skull of Acererak. The Dagger of durum bite deep and true to its design sank deep into the skull. The blade slide half way down the length of the blade before it stopped, catching the skull at the base of the back of the head. 

The skull of Acererak turned quickly towards Shump, so quickly that she lost control of the hilt and the blade stuck in Acererak’s skull. Two diamond eyes pierced into Shump’s soul and she felt a tug pulling her home. In an instant it was over, a slight light, a feeling of helplessness and then an unheard scream as her body slumped to the ground and turned into a pile of ash in mere seconds. 

Her soul was now gone.

* * *​“By the Light Of Pelor,” shouted the enraged Khael, “I banish thee to your eternal rest!” Khael raised his holy sun symbol of Pelor high into the air and the ghostly figure of the wizard cringed before the might of Pelor and burned away from his holy light as the darkness to the dawn. Khael was a servant of Pelor, God of the Sun, deity of good. He was charged with keeping the wards of the lands, bringing peace to those who lack it and the word of Pelor to those who need it.

He touched the Ghost with Pelor’s blessing and he watched as the ghost turned from a misty outline to a solid form and then disperse again into a veiled mist and disintegrate before their eyes. The Holy Word of Pelor filled the room with the Deities blessing and the light of Pelor brought warmth to the dreariness of the Final Haunt. He watched as the skull on the far side of the room rose into the air and as the holy light of Pelor touched the skull, a split in the skull formed and cracked the skull down the middle.

The power of Pelor’s word was mighty.

He could swear that the vileness of Acererak’s wrath would be taken out on him. He had taken away his minion and wounded him in one fell swoop. He prepared himself for the onslaught of Acererak’s wrath, but he quickly found it was not directed at him. Instead the gem-encrusted skull rose into the air, ignoring the flurry of blade swings from Shump, and stared into the soul of the Efreet. 

No words were spoken, but he was not sure if it was cause he couldn’t hear them or because the Efreet was gone before he had time to reply to his jailer. The one thing that was certain was that the Efreet’s soul was ripped from its body and its body turned into a pile of ash.

In such tightly packed quarters, it would be impossible for him to engage Acererak in close quarter combat and still allow the warriors a good chance of defeating him. He took a step backward and again called down the Holy Word of Pelor. He felt the mounting tide of evil being swept away by the power of Pelor’s good. He connected to Pelor in a way he had never done before, a connection that few clerics would ever share with their God. 

It was a feeling that he had liked.

* * *​“Lawbringer,” screamed the battle cry of the dwarf and instantly the mighty halberd appeared in his hand. Instantly the weapon glowed in divine energy.

“I smell evil afoot,” screamed Lawbringer, “take me to the evil, I shall smite it down to the depths of Hell.” The blade hummed with life and excitement. Lawbringer was an intelligent blade without equal when it came to fighting evil. It could sense evil like a fly could sense sugar and it was always ready to fight, or rather, it was always ready to fight evil. Lawbringer was notorious for sleeping on the job as it were. When evil was not around, it often slept, not allowing its magic to part take of any combat in which it could not smite a great evil. Its ability to sleep through numerous combats was amazing. Once Stonecracker had been fighting demons in the Abyss and still the blade had slept. That was one of the times the Dwarf had come close to throwing the blade away forever.

However, one good battle against a powerful evil made up for ten battles where he slept for when he was awakened a wrath like none other was unleashed. A fury of divine might so powerful he could kill a maralith with one mighty swing of the blade, snuffing out the evil life force before they even had a chance to react.

So it was that Lawbringer, bound in a room it could not escape and deprived of his chance to slay evil for the whole of the Tomb, reacted with great anger and fury when Stonecracker Boulderwacker and Lawbringer were finally reunited. The Halberd immediately teleported to his hand and half dragged the feisty dwarf to the skull. Right as Shump’s body fell to dust and at the same moment that the Holy Word of Khael tore the skull a crack, the mighty fury of Lawbringer brought down its full wrath and slammed the skull of Acererak so hard the skull sank into the ground, stunned by the blow.

Positive energy filled the skull and a hissing crack widened from the infusion of energy. The power of his God too had been called to his aid and Helm had answered, for if ever he had a need, it was now.

* * *​Devlina watched as the floor rose to the ceiling, nearly crushing Shump as she turned the key. The small room before her came to her in near vision. Over the course of the adventures in the tomb she was starting to get her sight back. Things were still a bit groggy, but she could clearly see objects, just not fine details.

Somehow she knew that the room before her was filled with all of their belonging. She knew everything she owned was there, including one thing that she had cherished most of all, the hammer her and her God had forged together.

Back when she was being tested for faith Pelor had shown her the errors of her way of thinking and for a reward for taking a step towards understanding the nature of the Gods, Pelor had granted her new servant a mighty boon. In the forges of some far off plane she and Pelor labored over the making of this weapon. It was given to her with a warning. Protect the weak, defend the faithless and hold the spirit of Pelor True and you shall know the power of this weapon. Lose faith in my teachings and it will fail you. It was this weapon that she now sought.

Amidst the treasure of others who have come before her, she tried to desperately find the hammer. She got down on hands and knees and riffled through everything in her way trying to find the one item she thought may turn the tide of battle.

She could not find it.

Then she closed her eyes and relied on faith. She stood, with eyes closed, and slowly walked towards the floating skull of Acererak. She could hear the sounds of battle, the distinctive sounds of the dwarf yelling for Lawbringer, the sweet sound of the Siren trying to calm the ancient evil that was Acererak and the grunts of Shump as she swung wildly at the skull. She didn’t know how, but she could tell where the skull was and where her teammates were. She could feel Shump lose her fight to retain her soul and the power of the Holy Words coming from Khael and the mighty blow from Stonecracker. She raised her empty hands into the air as if she had a weapon of a great weight and with all her strength she swung down in an arc. She moved in a circle at an angle that suggested that something was counterbalancing her movement so she would not fall over, but nothing was in her hands. Then, right after the Dwarf had knocked the skull to the ground, right as it rose into the air, she pulled her momentum into one solid blow. As she flew her body forward to strike, a massive hammer filled her empty hands and that smashed the front face of the skull, sending the skull flying into the wall behind it.

In that one moment when the Hammer made contact with the skull of Acererak, the hammer was completed of its forging process. In that strike it was given a purpose. In the blow it was given a need. It could feel the race of the creature it had hit. An ancient evil of a devilish kind with a hint if demon and a race of elves from long ago. In addition to this it knew this creature to be undead and forever more the hammer would find these beings easier to slay and in time it may even grow a personality to help slay such creatures, like Lawbringer.

Delvina opened her eyes, she could see perfectly, her faith had guided her home.

* * *​Acererak’s soul was called back to the Prime Material Plane when Shump inserted the Golden Key into the door. He was not upset that his experiment was made to wait. He had lived longer than any, other than the Gods, and patience had become second nature. Besides, it was all in his plan; it was what the tomb was built for. He would lure brave strong souls into the tomb and test their worth with a series of traps and tricks. Those that would make it to the end would make worthy souls to fuel his dark ends. He needed souls for a purpose only he knew. He was so close, so very close to having all he would ever need, but he had unbridled patience and would not rush into things. Others had come before, and they have all lost their souls, so would these adventurers.

He felt the second key being inserted into the floor keyhole and he knew the battle was about to begin. He summoned forth a mighty ghost as he always did. It was meant to scare and surprise the victims into using their deadliest magic on it rather than him. Not that it mattered, for his dark experiments had made him immune to almost all but the most powerful magic.

He was not surprised to see the Efreet with them, but was a little put out that the Efreet had helped them. He had trapped the creature many eons ago and was very strict about how he should conduct himself in the Tomb; however, the Efreet had other plans after so many years of confinement. Once Shump rushed passed the ghost, Acererak knew that he had only a moment to react and react he did. He rose into the air a skillfully dodged the blade. As he did he stared into the soul of the Efreet and sucked it from its body and into a gem.

He had power over the souls of any before him and he could take them at his will. None had ever stood up to him and none ever would. He thought about what to do with the soul of the Efreet. He could just simply add him to the mixing of other souls he had accumulated, adding to his power, or he could drink his soul for pleasure or return it to its body at a later date to have him continue to serve to Demi-Lich, yet again. He was not yet sure what to do yet, so he waited a moment. In that moment a blinding pain flashed in his memory. It had been a long time since he felt pain. Since before he turned from the flesh and became a lich to be certain. This was no ordinary pain; it was a holy energy from what he had thought was a long forgotten religion. Acererak was the master of negative energy, the power of death some would say; others would say the power of nothing. Acererak was just hit with a jolt of positive energy, the power of life, the power of everything. The two energies reacted in such a way as to create a massive blast that collided, positive meeting negative. The two energies hardly ever met, usually the Prime Material World separated the two, creating a balance between the two, but in rare cases the polar opposites would meet and such an outcome was never pleasant.

In that moment that he was blinded with searing pain he had never felt before the was barely able to duck out of the way of the Dagger of Dulum. He scanned the room for the one responsible for positive energy and quickly found the cleric of Pelor preparing another prayer to his God. He would end this quickly, he would drink his soul and add it to power his dark needs. Then, in that instant he changed his mind as the Dagger of Dulum pierced the back of his skull. His life force was nearly lost with that blow and he knew that he could not let this hideous orc woman live. He rose from the ground and stared at the soul of Shump and she too fell to the ground in a pile of dust as her soul became trapped within Acererak’s diamond eye.

It was no cleric of Pelor, but the sweet taste of the soul would do nicely to power his needs. He scanned the room again and found the cleric of Pelor again and rose to drink his soul too when a thundering jolt shook him and knocked him down. He rose in an anger he had not felt in a great while only to find the heavy face of the hammer smashing down into his own face, sending his backwards. In that instant he knew pain like none before. The hammer was now attuned to him and him alone, and others like him in race and creed. However, he would evermore fear this weapon and regard it as a threat. He would kill whomever wielded this weapon, whomever touched it, whomever looked at it. He flew through the air and his skull hit the wall behind him, driving the Dagger if Dulum the remainder of the way into his skull, burring the blade to the hilt.

He was so close to power, so close to finishing, and now he was dead.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 14, 2005)

Had to shamelessly bump it for a player who couldn't find it, sorry for the needless bump


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 18, 2005)

Yeh, I got a 1,000 views.  I'm in the big leagues now 

The PCs just finished a modified version of Maurve Castle, so look to a combined write up of the last 6 sessions which will take the PCs to there current location on the 222th layer of the Abyss.  Then, for those of you who are awaiting the long return of "Lizard Bait", I will be writing on that soon.

-thanks for your support


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## the Jester (Jul 18, 2005)

Hey DM-Rocco, keep it up!  I know keeping a SH can be a challenge- hell, I have about four active SH threads going at once right now- but it's very rewarding imho.  And the joy of having your players come up to you and say, "Man, it sure was cool to read about my pc killing the blah-ble-blah of blahdie blah!" always makes me feel all warm inside.


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## DM-Rocco (Jul 19, 2005)

the Jester said:
			
		

> Hey DM-Rocco, keep it up! I know keeping a SH can be a challenge- hell, I have about four active SH threads going at once right now- but it's very rewarding imho. And the joy of having your players come up to you and say, "Man, it sure was cool to read about my pc killing the blah-ble-blah of blahdie blah!" always makes me feel all warm inside.




Well, it has been a lot of fun.  I might just do a brief over view of the last 7 sessions, a lot of screwing around and argueing about rules resulted in not a whole lot getting done, that and I am better at DMing 1.0 AD&D high level characters than the obsurd power of high level 3.5 characters.  

But I am getting better


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## DM-Rocco (Aug 11, 2005)

*Session 29-35 Module Castle Maure*

This is a brief summary to where the party is now.  The last 6 sessions were crazy, lots of fart jokes, reno 911 comments and arguing over rules.  Not a lot done really.  So rather than try to explain it all in a write up, I just listed a few out of character highlights, sorry.

I will post a write-up with the meeting of the party and Pelor's Avatar though 

The party gathered up their fallen comrades and the treasure of Acererak and headed back to Kalstrand. They raise those who wanted to be returned to life from beyond the grave and even tried to bring back the soul of Shump, but she was lost to the ages. From the demi-liches treasure the party found a bejeweled box with no apparent opening. From the outside, a faint beating could be heard.
After gathering strength the party left Kalstrand for the undermountain path through the mountain wall. Only four vowed to see the quest from this point on, Khael, light of Pelor, Delvina, champion of Pelor, Jarel, sorcerer supreme and Katrina, master of probability manipulation.

Katrina, as an ambassador of Kalstrand, knew the location of the great dragon Kilthandus, a mighty gold wyrm. The party teleported to the dragons caves and negotiated their passage through the under mountain. They were granted permission to travel to the ruins of Castle Maure.

They traveled through the ruins and were attacked by Yug-Anark, a gnoll cleric of surprising power. They defeated her, but she managed to escape to the lower levels of the castle. While they systematically cleaned out level by level Yug-Anark gathered her followers. Yug-Anark realized the parties strength was greater than hers alone, but with her faithful it was a different matter. In spite of this she offered the party a chance for free and safe passage through the under mountain, all they had to do was slay Eli Tomorast, a mage of extreme power and cunning.

The party declined and threatened Yug-Anark to reveal the way through the under mountain or die. She relented and opened a portal. The party stepped through it, but rather than ending up on the other side of the mountain wall, they were transported to the 222nd level of the Abyss through a one way portal. 

They were attacked almost immediately by a gargantuan black pudding. Khael used the Ring of Pelor to open a portal which solars flooded through the area and killed the black pudding, but more soon came as did one of the local demi-gods, Jubileax. They escaped through a portal to the out lands and then plane shifted to Pelor’s Realm, where they had an audience with his avatar.


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## Schmoe (Aug 14, 2005)

So the party gated in a bunch of Solars into the home plane of Jubilex?  Yikes, that's bound to have some serious divine repercussions.  For one thing, I'm sure that Jubilex didn't take it kindly, and he'll probably take personal notice of the PC's.  Second, I'm sure that the party did nothing to improve the opinion of the good gods whose solars died pointlessly.  Wowza, you've got enough here for epic gaming for a year or more.


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## DM-Rocco (Aug 14, 2005)

*Session 36 - Audience with Pelor*

Delvina arrived the same time the others had and in the same manner. A moment ago she and her companions where in the Outlands, having just narrowly escaped the Abyss, now they were in the blessed Fields of Elysium. They had arrived on this plane greeted by a riot of color that could only be the first level of Elysium, Amoria.

Delvina marveled at the brilliant green meadows dotted with starburst flowers, pools as deep blue as a jay’s plumage and silver clouds drifting against a perfect sky. The plane itself seems to vibrate with its own sense of life and intensity. It was usually a peaceful place and tranquility seemed to seep into the bones and souls of those that crossed it.

While Devina marveled at the sight, Khael merely seemed withdrawn, as if he had be saddened to see such a sight. His recent death and subsequent resurrection had taught him many lessons, but this was deeper than a lesson, it was a torment. A reminder of what he had given up to return to the realm of the living.

Elysium consisted of four layers strung together by the myriad courses of the River Oceanus. The party took flight as their angelic guides lead them through the sweet-smelling pines and flowering trees along the banks giving way to open meadows and rolling fields. They made their way to Eronia, the second layer of Elysium. Over rising lands of steep hills, sharp-toothed mountains and white granite valleys they flew. These natural landscapes diverted the river again and again. On ward to Belierin they followed the rivers. Misty swamps and fog-bound marshes were quite the opposite of what they had expected. Here the river was no more than a tangled braid of slow-moving water through untouchable channels, with low, flooded sandbars and tangles of mangroves rising from it. Finally the tributaries flood the fourth and final layer of Elysium, Thalasia, the great head waters of River Oceanus.

Small rocky outcrops broke up the monotony of the vast Ocean waters and the ever constant shining Sun. They began to journey towards the ever shining sun, but the closer they came to the glowing sphere, the more it was evident that the Sun was not a Sun at all, but rather a strong hold set upon a massive mountain deep within the realm. The Fortress of the Sun, once known as Light’s Blessing, was the domain of the deity of Pelor, also known as the Sun Father and the Shinning One. 

Pelor’s realm, once a vast manor surrounded by orchards, vineyards and rich farmlands for miles, was now a gold-plated citadel that formed a beacon atop Krigala, the Largest mountain Island in Thalasia. The Fortress of the Sun dominated the lands for a hundred miles around and was clearly visible from the shores of the Oceanus. It glowed like a beacon day and night providing continual daylight for a hundred miles in every direction. Those unfamiliar with the landscape easily mistook it for a natural sun.

Delvina, Khael, Katrina and Jarel were welcomed into the might fortress with open arms. Each was tended too by a separate attendant who healed wounds, cured maladies and comforted the companions with warm bathes and fine clothing. Each set aside fear and doubt and lived in the moment. Once they entered the realm, all cares and concerns left their minds. They quickly forgot the urgency in which they came. They forgot about Vecna’s return or the Bejeweled box that contained his black heart. For the first time in a long time, they were free to be themselves and enjoy and relax and soak in life.

They lost track of time. 

The journey they took from the first to the fourth layer of Elysium could not be measured in terms of time. It seemed to take forever, but at the same time, it seemed like they just left the Outlands. They had only just arrived in the Fortress of the Sun, but yet it seemed like they have enjoyed the creature comforts of this place the whole of their lives. 

On the night they arrived, they joined a throng of others from across the realms in a feast on the highest spire of the Sun Fortress where Pelor oversaw much of the Cosmos. They dressed in simple robes emblazoned with the Symbol of Pelor, a bright shinning sun with nine flames licking away from the center. Other than these simple robes, they had only sandals. As they entered the vast hall attendants removed their sandals and cleansed their feet and patted them dry with silken clothes. The vastness of the dinning chamber was only comparable to the vastness of Pelor’s guests. Angels and celestials of all kinds were just the tips of the ice burg in terms of guests from across the Cosmos. They were not to be out done by the shear size of the dinning area however. Several hundred yards in every direction the vast chamber stretched. Rows and rows of tables and chairs had been immaculately placed to feed tens of thousands of guests and everywhere there was light. A simple test of holding a foot slightly above the ground revealed that no matter what angle you hold your foot, light was always a constant. There were no shadows. Everything gave off light. 

At the very center of the large hall a platform rose into the air. Upon the raised dais was a large orate table made of solid gold. To the left or the right of the central figure where those who had been sainted by Pelor. Most of them races that were fairly common on the Prime Material Plane, but a few stood out, including two Solars. At the center of everything sat an older man in white with wild hair and a beard of shinning gold. 

This was Pelor.

But it was not Pelor, but rather an Avatar of Pelor, as Delvina pointed out. She had been privy to glance her eyes upon the true form of Pelor and her eyes had been burned and melted from her eyes sockets for the effort. The mere fact that they could all look upon this old man and still see was a testament to the fact that this man was indeed an avatar. He was still a daunting figure, holding much respect and power.

Delvina wanted to engage Pelor’s avatar in a round of questions straight away, but his guardian had told him there was a time and a place for such things and this was not the time. The evening began with a live entertainment show while the dinners feasted on fruits and wine from all across the cosmos. Dinner courses were served while the entertainment continued. For the main course, a sliver tray was brought out before each dinner at the table and in unison, the attendants pulled off the huge lid from the serving tray to reveal whatever dish was most craved by the dinner in front of each tray.

As they ate and drank and engaged in good conversation they felt braver, as if they could do anything. They felt more alive and energetic. Dinner went on for hours and finally died down. It was then that people from across the cosmos could have a public audience with the avatar of Pelor.

The center Dais was circular and petitioners approached from every angle. While just an avatar, Pelor was able to field many questions at once and from different angles, even without looking to who he was addressing.

“The Mordons are on the march again,” came one concern from a Archon behind him. 

“The Blood War is spilling over into the Outlands again, would you like to intervene?” queried a man with golden skin and hair to Pelor‘s right.

“Smithies are dieing across the cosmos and none of their souls are making their way to their final rest,” commented a Solar from a floating table fifty feet over the heads of the others.

Pelor answered many of the concerns before the question was even asked. He did not move his head or address any by name, he simply answered each concern without care to who he was addressing or what direction the questions came from or even the softness of some of the voices that could not quite carry the question to him. 

He knew the question and simply gave the answer.

Delvina and the others patiently awaited their turn. The lines to speak with Pelor were long and some questions had answers that could not be easily answered. Finally, after hours of listening to others voice their concerns and ask questions, Pelor turned his head to address Delvina. Her eyes ached and her head spun. Even though this was an avatar, he was no less powerful. 

“Why is Holy Word…”

“Your faith is strong, but at time it waivers. Believe in me and it shall not fail you.”

Delvina had a lump in her throat. She was a confident woman with much pride, but even this avatar made her feel weak and unsure of her self. The whole of the chamber stopped conversation to listen to Pelor now as he had waited for Delvina and her companions to go last. Every eye was on them and every ear attuned to the questions and answers.

“How do we open the bejeweled box…”

“That is before my time…”

“Before you time…” chimed in Khael.

“It was created before my time here and while I have vast knowledge, there are things that even I do not know the answer to,” boomed the voice of Pelor.

“If we get it open, hoe do we destroy it…”

“Again, that was before my time…”

“But…”

“Silence,” Pelor’s voice echoed in the chamber like a grumbling thunderstorm in the distance, “take this ancient tablet. It contains a spell of such epic power that you could travel back in time and perhaps learn the answers yourself. It will allow for travel for up to one week but you will be weak. You will be ethereal and may not be able to interact with those around you. You might be able to take possession of bodies, but it is not an easy process. If you die in the past, even I do not know what will happen to you in the present. You won’t be limited to a single time, you can move through time, but each time you do you split the spell and the harder it will be to control. I caution you, you cannot alter time, time is set. Those few who have tried have changed nothing and have been lost to time, fragmented in space.

“I now have a question for you, do you recognize this woman to my right?” When it became apparent that none of them recognized the Gith seated next to him he continued, “her name is Aan’achi a female Githyanki cleric, she was a prisoner of those in Castle Maure. Instead of treating her with compassion and mercy, you discarded her by shoving her in a bag of holding.” Delvina and Khael slumped to the ground in pain, “This is not the teachings of Pelor.

“ I teach that energy of life originates from the sun. That light brings strength to the weak and health to the injured, while destroying darkness and evil. I urge my followers to challenge the forces of corruption regressively, but also to remember that just as the sun can cause blindness of the eyes, relentless attention to the destruction of negative forces can blind the heart to the true essentials of life; kindness,” another shock of pain ripped through them, “mercy,” Pelor’s voice thundered in rage, “ and compassion,” their world exploded in horror as the truth of their failure to protect the weak was revealed to all.

“She was bond and gagged and you didn’t even try to help her or understand her. You have now been marked by the sun God, fail me again and know my wrath.” Delvina and Khael looked at each others and could see the faint glow of the markings of Pelor’s symbol etched in their foreheads. Only the faithful could see them, but that was the same of it.

“You two,” he now addressed Katrina and Jarel, “do you travel with these two? Are your goals the same? Are your fates entwined?” He knew the answer, but he waited for them to answer yes on their own. “Then, I would ask of you all to relinquish off of your worldly possessions as a sacrifice to me and my church.” Again he knew the answer, but he waited for each of them to answer yes and they did, although it took many moments for Katrina to answer yes. “You have a foot hold on the other side of the mountain wall. You are now charged with bringing Saint Plathus, who now has the Ring of Pelor, back to your old keep to ignite the Nimbus of Light magic ritual, the Light of Purity. You shall now use this keep as a base point spread the word of Pelor to those in need. Remember, you must defeat Vecna, it is your most pressing concern, but also know that Acererak is not destroyed and many slaves are in the service of the evil empire and those are just concerns pressing you on the Prime Material Plane. The March of the Mordons has begun again, the Bloodwar is spilling over into other planes and smithies are disappearing from all over the cosmos. You have much to do to deserve a final rest at my side and no time to do it. Now, I suggest you remove yourself from my sight, lest I show you the nature of a Deities mercy.”

Each slowly left the grand hall as all eyes escorted them through the grand gates and there guides showed them to new quarters. Each was shown a new room, deprived of all belongings that they had previously known.

Note for those who are interested, the party was outfitted anew by Pelor and his attendants. If you wish to know what type of items they now possess, here are the items they received before leaving Pelor’s realm. If you are also wondering, they haven’t complained yet, and they shouldn’t because it is better than what they had, but I am sure it is only a matter of timeJ 

*Stone Tablet *- Pelor does not know how to destroy one of the first artifacts of the cosmos, it was before his time, but this time travel scroll will allow you to travel back in time once for one week. In that one week, you can jump around in the time stream, but the more you do so the harder it is to control. You can take nothing with you as you will not physically go back, but rather inhabit the bodies of those who lived back in that time. Also you will not have any powers that can effect the living as you will be ethereal. He is unsure if you can come back if you die. Don’t give me any, “a God knows everything crap!”

Everyone in the party gets the following:

*Amulet of the High Celestial - *this brilliant sun shaped amulet has nine citrine flames licking nine diamond stars. This amulet has unknown powers and no amount of whining and stupid jokes about Pelor being not able to see in the future will get you more information ;p _For Dom and Dar this increases the amount of damage you do when casting spells with the fire descriptor or energy type fire by +2 for each die of damage when used against an evil creature, double this bonus against evil outsiders. Half of the bonus is sacred and half the damage is divine. For Khael and Delvina it can also act as Phylactery of Undead Turning (turn undead +4 level) and a Greater Holy Symbol (Empower turning at will -2 turn +2d6 dmg) 1wt but only if not hidden and not bad mouthed ;p

_*Cloak of Celestial Charisma *- +6 to charisma and you can convert one +1 level or higher spell slot into a +1 sacred bonus to your saving throw up to a max of a +6. This lasts one use or one round, whichever comes first, and you must declare this before your roll.

*Two Gloves of Storing - *can hold twice the normal weight

*Pelor’s Portable Wardrobe - *By concentrating on the fabric of reality, standard action, and praying to Pelor, you bring into existence a wardrobe of up to ten feet in height, six feet in width and six feet in depth. One can store whatever would normally fit into such a space. It is complete with drawers and hanging poles and hook and whatever other features (don’t get nuts, I’ll take it away, you say you are going to put all the contents of the whole dungeon in the wardrobe, guess what happens) the user can think of. Each has a spirit of a petitioner of Pelor bound to it. They serve the owner until released and help in donning armor, changing clothes, bathing (not sex, perverts) cooking and general grooming. They can not be further from the portal than thirty feet and disappear if provoked or attack or the portal is dismissed or suppressed. The portal also can have a grooming table, hot and cold running water and even a tub.

*Celestial Component Bag* - creates any component with a cost 100 gold or under as a free action. Component lasts one round (no, you can‘t use it to summon massive amounts of components and sell them).

*Bedroll of Warmth

Water Skin of the Plenty* 

*10 Vials of Moon Blood

**Delvina-

Maul of Pelor, +1 weapon enhancement, Thundering, returning, impacting, Bane weapon for undead and evil outsiders, seeking and distance *(1d10 crit 19-20x3, blunt 20 pounds) - This 5’ tall weapon, (try not to give me crap about your size, role-play) is a massive maul that requires an 18 strength to use effectively, otherwise you take a -4 penalty to hit. It can grow as tall as 8’ and when it does it deal triple damage to inanimate objects (not construct or undead). You must be at least 6’0” tall to wield it properly and since coming to Pelor’s realm, you have grown to this height. It was forged by Delvina with the aid of Pelor himself deep in the heart of his mountain palace in Oceania. It has ten quarter size slots for diamonds to be placed and two large baseball sized slots left for two other gems and one huge slot open on the top, also needing to be filled. Since coming to Pelor’s realm, he has helped you place 7 diamonds in the hammer.

Seven of the diamond slots have been filled, one giving it a +1 weapon enhancement, one giving it a thundering ability, one giving it a returning ability (you must sacrifice a 0thlevelor higher spell slot to have it return to you, you can call it by sacrificing a 2nd level or higher spell slot), one giving it an impacting ability, two giving it two bane abilities, one giving it a seeking ability and one giving it a distance ability. 

A weapon of this size must be wielded in two hands and is normally too large to be thrown effectively. This weapon, however, can be thrown up to 40 feet, 80 feet at -2, 120 at -4, 160 at -6, 200 at -8 and can be thrown up to 240 feet at a -10 penalty. If the wielder has a 26 strength he can throw it up to 480 feet at a -10 penalty as if it were a projectile weapon, basically doubling all ranges with the same penalties. The weapon can be thrown once per round as a standard action since you have to grab the hammer by its massive thong and let momentum build up by spinning it around in a circle before release. Throwing the weapon in this manner does triple base damage. On a successful critical hit it does an extra 2d8 points of damage 3d8 if thrown, with a x3 multiplier, x4 if thrown and the target must make a fortitude saving throw versus the wielders unmodified Will save (you can add your unmodified wisdom bonus to this) or be permanently deafened. 

At the end of the next round of combat the hammer returns to your hand. If you don’t have an 18 strength the hammer will break your arm as you try to catch it, if you have under a 14 strength the hammer will rip your arm off when you try to catch it. If you are unable to catch it, it falls in the next nearest square to you. It will try to break through objects to get to you in this manner. You cannot call the hammer, it just returns. It takes one round for the hammer to return and if you throw it five times within a two minute period, you become fatigued and must rest for one turn.

When wielding it in melee, you may use a standard action to do double dice on an attack. You can do this for up to ten rounds within a two minute period otherwise you become fatigued. If you have over a 20 Constitution you can double the amount of time for throwing and melee. For every 5 points of Constitution you have over 20 you can double the number of rounds again. Remember that three doublings is a tripling, etc. You must name the weapon and call it by name for every use, otherwise it is just a +1 hammer with no powers.

*Trumpet of Doom

Full plate Ysgardian Heartwire-Mithril *exalted, light fortification of command +5 (+8 armor, +4 max Dex, -4 armor check penalty weighs 25lbs) You get a +2 competence bonus on all chr check, including turn undead, skill checks and leadership scores, but not for spells. Troops under your control are braver than normal and in combat they get the benefit of a bless spell. Exalted allows you to take half damage from unholy weapons (from the unholy part) and you are constantly surrounded by a protection from evil. Also, you negate vile damage from weapons, and natural attacks, but not spells or other sources. You can also, three times per day, cast a mass prayer spell and 3 times a day cast a mass protection from evil. These spells have to be cast on at least 50 people under your command and the armor has to be visible in order to get its effect, they can effect up to 1,000 troops. *spirit of role-playing here, just for army situation, not personal party use* The armor also glows with the power of Pelor, a faint white light with a 5’ radius. When you are near Evil creatures it grows to 20’ radius and when you are near evil outsiders the area is flooded with a daylight spell equal to your level. This last ability needs to be fleshed out. Price 100,000gold

*Gauntlets of Relentless might, minor *+4 to strength and constitution as a sacred bonus

*Winged Boots

Helm of Pelor’s Unwavering Faith - *You can convert your spells into paladin spells. You may convert a cleric spell of three levels or higher into a paladin spell. Example, you want to cast a holy sword spell, 4th level paladin spell, you have to convert a 7th level or higher cleric spell. You can’t add meta-magic feats, the helm as to be worn and visible and you can’t have bad mouthed Pelor or complained about Holy Word ;p

*Dar

Possessions: 

Ysgardian Heartwire-Mirthil hybrid chain suit/Robes +4 enhancement, +2 twilight, light fortification, glamered, Empyreal: *This suit of armor is finely crafted suit of chain mail and was forged in the angelic heavens by the solars. It is made of mithril and re-enforced with Ysardian Heartwire. Each link is so small and pliable that one does not need training to wear this armor as it fits like a shirt or second skin. It has a +5 base to AC, a +4 armor enhancement, no spell failure chance, +8 max to dex, armor check penalty of -2, considered light armor that weighs 20 pounds and 25% immunity to critical hits and +2 AC to confirm a Critical hit against you 

*+3 dagger 

Potion of Infallible Luck* - For one day you have the best luck in the world

*Potion of the Black Cat - *For one day everyone around you has the worst luck in the world

*Potion of Absolute Luck - *For one day you have the best luck in the world and those around you have the worst luck ever.

*Dom

Star Mantle Robes of the Arch Mage*- these robes are made of an unknown cloth that is inky black with the exception of the celestial night constellation. You are unharmed by normal weapons as they shatter in a burst of light upon touching you. You are still harmed by magic and natural weapons, but you are allowed a DC15 reflex check to take half damage from these attacks. If you have evasion and make a save, you still only take half, not none. If you have improved evasion and make a save, you still only take half, not none. Also acts as a robe of the arch magi, +5 armor bonus to AC, 18 spell resistance, +4 bonus on all saving throws and a +2 bonus to overcome spell resistance.

*+3 dagger 

**Khael

Thigh Bone of the Avatar of Pelor - *The first Saint of Pelor’s church was granted the divine duty of Avatar of Pelor. Father Jorgin of the Morning Star, as he was known on the Prime Material Plane, fell to the might of Azzarack in the first reckoning. Both of his thigh bones were removed and given to Pelor’s faithful as weapons to combat evil. One was given to Plathus, who serves Pelor faithfully to this day. The other was given to Herita who was slain in the Nine Hells. While his body was recovered, Saint Jorgin’s thigh bone was never found. 

Plathus, beyond the need of such mortal weapons, has given Khael Jorgin’s thigh bone. It is treated as a Heavy Mace +3, Evil Outsider Bane, impacting, flaming, Flaming Burst, Holy, 6wt The weapon is considered good aligned for purposes of overcoming damage reduction and when it strike undead it destroys them if they fail a fortitude saving throw versus your unmodified will save (you can add your unmodified wisdom bonus to this).
Evil Outsider Bane = +5 vs. evil outsiders, +2d6 dmg vs. evil outsiders
Flaming = 1d6 fire damage, half divine

Flaming Burst = +1d6 fire dmg, crit +1d10 fire dmg, half divine
Holy = good aligned, +2d6 dmg vs. evil
Impacting = doubles threat range

*Full plate Ysgardian Heartwire-Mithril *Glamered, Angelic, Sacred, ghost touch +3 (+8 armor, +4 max Dex, -4 armor check penalty weighs 25lbs) This armor is adorned with feather like patterns and other heavenly motifs. The armor increases the wearer’s enhancement bonus to AC by +1 against attacks from evil creatures. It also grants the user a +4 sacred bonus on saving throws against spells with the evil descriptor. A suit of armor with this quality also bestows upon the wearer a sacred bonus of +2 on all turning attempts. This armor is emblazoned with the symbol of Pelor and loses all powers when not clearly visible. An evil creature that dons the armor does not gain these benefits.100,000gold

*Winged Light Shield +3 *ghost touch, This shield is emblazoned with the symbol of Pelor and loses all powers when not clearly visible. 

*1wtstone - *Celestial Brilliance (BoED94 - lvl 5 light, bright 120'/dim 120'; x2 light penalty; 1d6 dmg undead, 2d6 dmg evil outsider/undead harm by sun)
*Periapt of Wisdom *+6 0wt
*Sacred Vessel

Saint’s burial Shroud

*


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## DM-Rocco (Aug 14, 2005)

Schmoe said:
			
		

> So the party gated in a bunch of Solars into the home plane of Jubilex? Yikes, that's bound to have some serious divine repercussions. For one thing, I'm sure that Jubilex didn't take it kindly, and he'll probably take personal notice of the PC's. Second, I'm sure that the party did nothing to improve the opinion of the good gods whose solars died pointlessly. Wowza, you've got enough here for epic gaming for a year or more.




They are not wuite Epic level yet, but getting there.  Jubilex was closing in on the party, but it moves slow and wanted to enjoy the PC terror, but kill quickly, but yes, Jubilex has no love of the PCs. 

Actually, their were only a few Solars and none died, they escaped in enough time, they only bought the party a chance to escape, although, they did kill a number of local giant enhanced puddings, mmmm, pudding. 

The party has, or had, and artifact called the Ring of Pelor.  It is the size of a crown, but Pelor wears it like a ring.  It has many powers and one of them was to open a portal much like the Armageddon spell from the Book of Exaulted Deeds.  It is looked upon as a powerful use of the artifact and to be used only in emergencies, and this was one such case.  The ring actually called to the player to open the portal, so Pelor was granting them a boon and will not harbor ill will for its use.  Although, the party has done enough to warrent Pelor's wrath in other matters.


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## DM-Rocco (Aug 14, 2005)

Well, this brings the party, and you, up to date on where they are now.  Finally, all caught up 


So, for those of you who are interested, I am going to now reread what I wrote for Lizard Bait and try to finish that, so look out for that thread to reappear.

Also, now that I am caught up on this thread, I am going to try and keep it currect.  We usually meet once every other week, on a Wednesday, and this Wednesday is our next session.

I also have the players giving me a copy of their characters so I can post them here for those who are interested.

Oh, and thanks for reading.


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## Dawn (Aug 15, 2005)

Thanks for the updates.
Keep them coming.


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## DM-Rocco (Aug 19, 2005)

*Session 37 - homebrew adventure hook*

Saint Plathus began the ritual for the Light of Purity three days ago.

When they came back to the Prime Material Plane, they came back to their Succubus. A year ago, deep in the abyss, they had played a game of chance with a band of balors and their succubi concubines and an artifact called the Deck of many Things.. During the game, one of the succubus had a change of heart and idealism, changing her evil and chaotic ways into a more lawful and good path of nature. While she is not their servant, she did look to the companions for guidance and direction. When they arrived home, she was the first to greet them.

Also, two others were their to greet them. Jurit and Gual. Closer to two years ago, when the companions came to this keep investigating rumors of slavery, they had cleansed many of the evil creatures in the Hilltop fortress. Their were a few exceptions however and Jurit and Gual were two of them. They dropped their weapons and swore allegiance to the companions. Once they had taken control of the fortress, they left them in charge and with instructions to safe guard the keep and find others of faith. In the absence of the companions Jurit and Gual had done as asked. They gathered a small number of followers to their cause and built a small army to defend the keep. 

They also gained power.

Not the power that people gain when they are able to destroy buildings with a thought, they gained power of self. In the leadership of the small army they gained self confidence, in the trails of defending the keep they gained fighting prowess and in the everyday duties of being a general, they gained the respect of their men. They were no longer the weak and sniveling hobgoblins the companions left behind, they were heroes, leaders, men.

Once every hundred years, one hundred clerics can gather and through a complex set of rituals and prayer, they can summon a light of absolute purity. His followers started three days ago when the companions entered their keep through their secret portal in their Sigil Mansion. They cleansed the Hilltop fort by clearing out all the trash and meticulously casting Sanctify spells on flaming symbols of the Sun of Pelor 20 feet apart from each other. 

It was at this point that Saint Plathus began his sacred ritual. Through his divine connection with his deity, he was able to take control of the sanctify spells and extend their durations. While he concentrated on maintaining the sanctify spells and went through the summoning rituals, his clerics filled the halls with Hallow spells in the same manner they had cast the sanctify spells.

Again Saint Plathus took control of the Hallow spells and extended the duration of the spells. Again the clerics went to work, in the same manner they cast bless spells, prayer spells, calm emotion spells, negative energy protection spells and finally daylight spells. Every ten feet within the Hilltop fortress they placed a holy symbol of Pelor, a Sun with nine licking flames that flickered from time to time. 

While saint Plathus’ followers prepared the fortress, the companions summoned a large granite stone slab and began carving the slab into a circular sun with nine licking flames. From the side and for practical purposes it was an alter, but from above, it was a holy symbol of Pelor. When Katrina was done sculpting it the followers of Pelor leafed it in gold and finished the sides with heavenly motifs. Finally the day of the ritual had come.

For three days Saint Platus did not sleep, did not eat, he only concentrated on the task at hand, maintaining the durations of the preparation spells and starting the summoning rituals for the Light of Purity. On the midnight hour, the incantations began. The keep was washed in ceremonial oils and ointments and palm leafs were laid on the ground throughout the keep. Incense was burned throughout the fortress and everyone was dressed in ceremonial robes. At midnight the followers summoned a huge amount of positive energy. Normally, this energy was used to destroy the unholy undead and return their souls to the grave, but in this instance the positive energy filled the chamber and infused the alter with life and power. His followers, engulfed in the process of being a living channel to the Positive Material Plane, could only maintain the link. For twelve hours they would chant and serve as a vessel for the sheer amount of Positive energy that would infuse the alter with holy power.

While his followers did this, Saint Plathus and Khael, servant of the Light, were engrossed in a daylight ritual. Finally after twelve long exhaustive hours, high noon came and the constant daylight spells exploded and erupted as light day light flooded the room and bounced from one holy symbol to another until the whole of the keep would have shown as a bright beckon in the darkened night sky, had it been night. Then the light went out, leaving the followers in darkness, but only for an instance. Then a shard of light burst from the alter, straight in the air. Even though there was a ceiling, the light penetrated it and shot high into the air, parting clouds.

The ritual was complete.


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## DM-Rocco (Aug 19, 2005)

*Stats for Saint Plathus*

*Saint Plathus is an Astral Deva with the Saint template and the Apostle of Peace prestiege class the Books of Exalted Deeds.  In addition to the abilities here, he has the abilities listed in that book and the monster manual.

Saint Plathus; Astral deva angel Apo10:* CR 24; ECL 30; Size M; HD 12d8+96 + 10d8+80; hp 253; Init +11; Spd 50 ft, fly 100 ft. (good); AC 64, touch 45, FF 57; BAB +17/+12/+7/+2; Grapple +23; Atk: +26/+21/+16/+11 melee (1d8 + 12 plus stun, heavy mace of disruption), +23 melee (1d8 + 9, or slam); SA Spell-like abilities, stun; SQ Damage reduction 10/evil, darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, immunity to acid, cold, and petrifaction, protective aura, resistance to electricity 10 and fire 10, spell resistance 30, tongues, uncanny dodge; SV Fort +29, Ref +26, Will +30; AL NG; Str 22, Dex 24, Con 26, Int 28, Wis 32, Cha 40.
*Languages spoken: *Celestial, Infernal, and Draconic, though they can speak with almost any creature because of their tongues ability

*Skills and Feats:* Bluff +20, Concentration +33, Diplomacy +44, Escape Artist +22, Heal +31, Hide +22, Intimidate +32, Knowledge (Local) +14, Knowledge (Nobility) +14, Knowledge (Planes) +29, Knowledge (Religion) +29, Listen +30, Move Silently +22, Sense Motive +36, Spellcraft +34, Spot +32; persistent spell, leadership, Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, extend spell, Simple Weapon Proficiency. Exalted turning, Vow of peace dc 10+50+ CHR will or calm emotions 20 feet radius and +2 natural/deflection and exalted and dc, Mind shielding - immune to detect thoughts and discern lies and discern alignment 10+50+ con or shatters weapon, Vow of poverty, Vow of nonviolence, Sacred vow, Nimbus of light, Stigmata, Greater sustenance - doesn’t need to breathe, Sustenance - doesn’t need to eat, Exalted strike +5, Endure elements -50 - -140, Regeneration, True seeing, Energy resistance - 15 acid, sonic, electric, fire and cold, Damage reduction - 10/-evil, Keen vision, Immunities - acid, cold, electricity and petrifaction, Fast heal 10, Spell like ability - guidance, resistance, virtue and bless, Holy touch - 1d6 holy damage and 1d8 undead, Holy power - +2 on all powers, Protective aura - magic circle against evil and lesser globe of invulnerability. Holy Radiance undead take 1d4/round within ten feet. Holy subdue - can turn lethal damage into non lethal, Words of creation, Quell the profane dc 10+50+ CHR fort or 1d4 STR, epic spells, epic leadership, positive energy aura, legendary commander, planar turning

*Apo Spells Per Day: *6/8/8/7/6/6/6/5/3/2.Epic Apostle of peace:


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## DM-Rocco (Aug 19, 2005)

*Jurit and Gual*

*These two hobgoblins where turned from their wicked ways by the party and are now leaders within the Hilltop keep. They have the leadership feats which I am going to use in the game as a general troop control number for how many people you can lead into battle. Haven't quite figured out how yet. Anyway, I need to get more details on them and I will post them here in this section. Things like gear and what their troops look like.

Gual the Brave; Hobgoblin Bbn10: CR 10; ECL 11; Size M; HD 10d12+40; hp 119; Init -1; Spd 30 ft; AC 17, touch 9, FF 17; BAB +10/+5; Grapple +15; Atk: +15/+10 melee (1d3 + 5, Unarmed); SA -; SQ Darkvision 60 ft.; SV Fort +13, Ref +2, Will +6; AL CG; Str 21, Dex 9, Con 22, Int 15, Wis 16, Cha 16.

Languages spoken: Goblin and Common

Skills and Feats: Handle Animal +12, Intimidate +16, Survival +13, Jump +12, Listen +16, Ride +14, Swim +15; Armor Proficiency (Light), Armor Proficiency (Medium), Cleave, Endurance, Exotic Weapon Proficiency, Martial Weapon Proficiency, Power Attack, Shield Proficiency, Simple Weapon Proficiency, Leadership, Diehard.

Possessions: 4639 gp, Coins, Adamantine battleaxe +1, Breastplate +3, Amulet of health +4, Belt of giant strength +4, Melee ability: keen, Melee ability: mighty cleaving.

Leadership score: 18 (8th level Captian, 35 1st levels, 3 2nd, 1 3rd, 1 4th)

* * *​ 
Jurit the graceful; Hobgoblin Rog4/Ftr3/Duel3: CR 10; ECL 12; Size M; HD 1d8+5 + 4d6+20 + 6d10+30; hp 118; Init +8; Spd 30 ft; AC 28, touch 21, FF 17; BAB +9/+4; Grapple +13; Atk: +13/+8 melee (1d3 + 4, Unarmed); SA -; SQ Darkvision 60 ft.; SV Fort +10, Ref +16, Will +4; AL LE; Str 18, Dex 26, Con 20, Int 15, Wis 13, Cha 14.

Languages spoken: Goblin and Common

Skills and Feats: Bluff +15, Escape Artist +27, Handle Animal +12, Sleight of Hand +23, Listen +11, Move Silently +25, Open Lock +25, Ride +20, Perform (Comedy) +5, Search +15, Sense Motive +14, Tumble +21; Armor Proficiency (Heavy), Armor Proficiency (Light), Armor Proficiency (Medium), Dodge, Martial Weapon Proficiency, Mobility, Shield Proficiency, Simple Weapon Proficiency, Weapon Finesse, Leadership, Combat Expertise, Improved Feint.

Possessions: 1000 gp, Coins, Bracers of armor +3, Amulet of natural armor +4, Vest of escape, Hat of disguise, Gloves of dexterity +6, Rapier of puncturing.

 

Leadership score: 17 (8th level Captian, 30 1st levels, 3 2nd, 1 3rd, 1 4th)

* * *​ 
Hobgoblin Captian; Hobgoblin Ftr8: CR 8; ECL 10; Size M; HD 1d8+5 + 8d10+40; hp 85; Init +6; Spd 5 ft (base 30 ft); AC 25, touch 10, FF 25; BAB +8/+3; Grapple +14; Atk: +10/+5 melee (1d3 + 2, Unarmed); SA -; SQ Darkvision 60 ft.; SV Fort +11, Ref +4, Will +4; AL ng; Str 14, Dex 15, Con 20, Int 13, Wis 14, Cha 16.

Languages spoken: Goblin and Common

Skills and Feats: Handle Animal +14, Intimidate +14, Ride +15; Armor Proficiency (Heavy), Armor Proficiency (Light), Armor Proficiency (Medium), Cleave, Improved Initiative, Martial Weapon Proficiency, Mounted Combat, Power Attack, Ride-By Attack, Shield Proficiency, Simple Weapon Proficiency, Spirited Charge, Trample, Leadership, Improved Grapple.

Possessions: 12348 gp, Coins, Melee ability: mighty cleaving, Melee ability: keen, Masterwork cold iron longsword +2, Heavy steel +2 shield, Full plate +3.


Leadership score: 14 (6th level lieutenant, 15 1st levels, 1 2nd)

* * *​ 
Hobgoblin Lieutenant; Hobgoblin Ftr6: CR 6; ECL 8; Size M; HD 1d8+3 + 6d10+18; hp 79; Init +2; Spd 20 ft (base 30 ft); AC 21, touch 12, FF 19; BAB +6/+1; Grapple +9; Atk: +9/+4 melee (1d3 + 3, Unarmed); SA -; SQ Darkvision 60 ft.; SV Fort +8, Ref +4, Will +3; AL LE; Str 16, Dex 14, Con 16, Int 13, Wis 13, Cha 14.

Languages spoken: Goblin and Common

Skills and Feats: Handle Animal +11, Intimidate +11, Ride +13; Armor Proficiency (Heavy), Armor Proficiency (Light), Armor Proficiency (Medium), Cleave, Martial Weapon Proficiency, Mounted Combat, Power Attack, Ride-By Attack, Shield Proficiency, Simple Weapon Proficiency, Trample, Leadership.

Possessions: 3420 gp, Coins, Heavy steel mw shield, Chain shirt +3, Masterwork cold iron longsword +2.


Leadership score: 11 (4th level sargent, 6 1st levels)

* * *​ 
Hobgoblin Sargent; Hobgoblin Ftr4: CR 4; ECL 6; Size M; HD 1d8+4 + 4d10+16; hp 48; Init +3; Spd 20 ft (base 30 ft); AC 22, touch 12, FF 20; BAB +4; Grapple +6; Atk: +6 melee (1d3 + 2, Unarmed); SA -; SQ Darkvision 60 ft.; SV Fort +8, Ref +4, Will +2; AL LE; Str 14, Dex 16, Con 19, Int 13, Wis 13, Cha 12.

Languages spoken: Goblin and Common

Skills and Feats: Handle Animal +8, Intimidate +8, Ride +12; Armor Proficiency (Heavy), Armor Proficiency (Light), Armor Proficiency (Medium), Cleave, Martial Weapon Proficiency, Mounted Combat, Power Attack, Ride-By Attack, Shield Proficiency, Simple Weapon Proficiency.

Possessions: -57 gp, Coins, Masterwork cold iron longsword, Heavy wooden +1 shield, Chainmail +2.

*


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