# Against the Shadows IV - A Faded Glory Story Hour



## Old One

Greetings All and Welcome to the New Boards! 

*IMPORTANT NOTE: I decided to place the entire Story Hour in this thread to make it easier for new readers (and old)...I will be formatting/cleaning up over the next day or so!*

In honor of the move, we continue the *Faded Glory* Saga with *Installment IV*... 

To follow the adventures of Rowan, Quintus, Sextus, Rose and Lew from the beginning, visit: 

*The Original - Against the Shadows - A Faded Glory Story Hour here:* 

Original Faded Glory Story Hour 

*-AND-*

*The Sequel - Against the Shadows 2 - A Faded Glory Story Hour here:* 

Second Faded Glory Story Hour 

*-AND-* 

*The Trilogy - Against the Shadow III - A Faded Glory Story Hour here:* 

Third Faded Glory Story Hour 

*The Campaign Website, designed by Oberton, can be found here:* 

Faded Glory Website 

**UPDATE: THE CAMPAIGN WEBSITE IS UNDERGOING SUBSTANTIAL CHANGES, PLEASE BEAR WITH US!* 

*Campaign Info and Commentary can be found here:* 

Campaign Info 

Another excellent *Faded Glory* Story Hour, using the Faded Glory Campaign Setting and run by DM *Rel*, with a different flavor and lots of twists and turns, can be found here: 

Rel's Faded Glory Story Hour 

Thanks to all of the readers and lurkers for their support, their readership, their commentary and their ideas. 

Stay tuned for further adventures as the PCs face not only the dangers of the *Faded Glory* world - but the *Table of Elemental Evil* and a charter member of the *Rat Bastard DM's Club (tm)*! 

Thanks for reading and enjoy! 

Old One

_(DM's Note: I try to run a challenging - but fair - campaign.  I make most of my rolls in the open and let the dice fall where they may.  I also have lots of plots, sub-plots and 'red herrings' hanging about, so sometimes my players don't know whether they are coming or going.  My two favorite player states are paranoid and confused!  I think I have done a pretty good job so far - read on and see if you agree...)_


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## Old One

*Dramatis Personae*

*Dramatis Personae Update* 

*Gandlewyn (Lew) Fritinius* (_Human Cleric 4_) - A Cleric of the Church of Light, Lew has advanced to an Acolyte of the Second Mystery of _Osirian_. Lew was born and raised in the frontier town of Glynden. His parents were killed in a bandit attack when he was 18 winters old and he left Glynden for three years to wander the Lost Northern Provinces and minister to the sick and suffering. He has recently returned to Glynden and has taken up with some childhood friends. 

His younger brother, Marcus, is also a cleric of the Church of Light and has advanced to the rank of Acolyte of the Second Mystery. He secretly blames Lew for the death of their parents and relations between the brothers are cool, at best. Marcus recently departed Glynden to travel to Oar in the company of Brother Patroclian, a cleric of _Osirian_ from the Jewel Cities. 

Lew has been troubled by strange dreams of late, primarily related to his recently deceased friends, Garrick and Marcus Tiro. He is a kind-hearted and truthful soul and is sometimes distressed at the barbaric and/or underhanded actions of his compatriots - particularly Quintus and Rosë. 

Lew recently decided to add some physical armor to the protection provided by the had of _Osirian_ and now wears studded leather armor. He is primarily a defensive fighter and uses a quarterstaff for close fighting and a crossbow at range. 

*Rowan* (_Human Ranger 3/Rogue 1_) - Born on a small farm outside of Glyden. He spent most of his youth shirking his responsibilities on the farm - fishing, hunting and playing in the woods instead. He took a nasty fall from a tall tree at the age of six, leaving him with a large scar on his forehead. He was tortured and almost slain by gnolls at the age of 10 and was rescued by a grizzled woodsman known to him only as "The Old Man". 

Over the next 10 winters or so, the Old Man showed up from time to time, always unannounced, and taught Rowan the ways of the Ranger. Recently, he gifted Rowan with a battered short sword - the same one that had been used to save him from the gnolls many years before. The sword bears the faint outline of an eagle etched near the base of the blade, along with some undecipherable script. 

No one else in town has ever actually seen the Old Man and some less kind souls whisper that he is a figment of Rowan's imagination, brought about by the blow to the head when he was a boy. Rowan scouts for the Glynden militia from time to time and spends the balance of his time doing as little as possible. 

Rowan was deeply affected by the loss of Garrick and Marucs Tiro. He grieved silently for them until he was able to fashion a fetish, made of various components he gathered, for each of them and place them on their graves. After a rocky start, he and Quintus have become fast friends with a growing mutual respect. In fact, Quintus has steered Rowan towards one of his younger sisters, Maxima...an idea that Rowan has been most agreeable too! 

Several recent events have complicated life for Rowan somewhat. During a disasterous battle with a mixed gnoll-human bandit group, several daughters of the Cassivius Family - prominent locals - were murdered. Only one daughter, Drusilla, managed to survive and she now travels with the group. The beautiful young woman has caught the attentions of Rowan, Quintus and Sextus. Quintus is quite cross with his friend, since the sorcerer sees Rowan's interest in the Cassuvius girl as an insult to his sister (and a threat to Quintus' own designs). 

The second event was a chance meeting with the strange trader Lathan and his even stranger mule, Bogwell. The trader examined his battered short sword and said their was nothing remarkable about it save for a stylized "L" on the blade. The morning after the trader departed, the blade began to tingle and the faint outline of the double-headed eagle of Emor and the "L" became much more visible! Exactly what this means remains to be seen. 

Due to the increasing danger of their travels and frequent ambushes, Rowan is now concentrating on his scouting abilities. 

_(DM's Note: Rowan chose to cross-class into "Rogue" the last time he levelled.)_ 

Rowan is protected by studded leather armor, wields his trusty short sword in hand-to-hand combat and uses a short bow for ranged attacks. 

_(DM's Note: Rowan's player chose to take the alternative pseude-feats I allow for rangers, which are point-blank shot and far shot, instead of ambidexterity and two-weapon fighting)_ 

*Rosë* (_Human Barbarian 4_) - Rosë was born into the Brigantes, a fierce and proud tribe from the barbarian wilds. A soothsayer assured his mother that he would be born a girl, so his mother named him Rosë to spite the soothsayer for being wrong. Not only was he born a male, but he had a birthmark across his shoulders that resembled a great bird with outstretched wings - the totem animal of the Brigantes is a great eagle. 

He endured many taunts as a youth, for he did not know his father and his mother was rumored to have a wandering eye. The taunts became fewer as Rosë entered puberty and grew into a strapping youth, easily beating tribesmen two or three winters his elder in tests of strength. 

At the Gathering of Tribes, a very rare event, he had the misfortune to fall in love with Asralla, virgin daughter of Talorc, Warlord of the Allmani and sworn blood enemy of the Brigantes. Talorc was furious when he discovered that his daughter was no longer a virgin and that a Brigante had taken her flower. During the inquisition that followed, Rosë was stunned to learn that Vercinox, leader of the Brigantes, was his grandfather and that he was the bastard son of a "Steel Man", as the tribes referred to Emorians. 

Sentenced to death, he escaped with the help of his mother and fled the lands of the Tribes - an outcast. He eventually made his way to Glynden as a caravan guard for a halfling trade caravan, but took sick soon after arriving. Cared for in the Abbey of Osirian, he met "Lew" and Garrick brought him food from the tavern. Through these, he met both Rowan and Marcus Tiro. 

Rosë was stoic in his acceptance of the death's of Marcus Tiro and Garrick, but anxious to return to the field to avenge their deaths. He recently had a major run-in with Kothric, the betrothed of Asralla. 

During the course of events, Asralla sacrificed herself to save Rosë and his companions, Rosë discovered he had an infant son and he learned that his father, Gordius, was actually the self-styled "Emperor of the North" for a few short winters. Rosë feels that his life is becoming entirely too complicated! 

He placed his infant son, named Gordius Vercinox, after his father and grandfather, in the care of the Scipio family and regularly provides coin for the child's care. To date, he has not formed a strong bond with his son, but it is early yet. 

Rosë is somewhat uneven in combat. During some encounters, he fights like a ferocious beast and none can stand in his way. During others, he can't hit a thing! In one recent combat, he was bested by a pair of puny human rogues and has been itching for revenge ever since. During the encounter with the trader Lathan, he bought a battered woodsman's axe which transformed the next day into a gleaming hand axe. He has yet to determine what its exact properties are. 

Rosë wears leather armor and fights with a variety of weapons, depending on the situation. His primary melee weapon is the great axe taken from Kothric and he uses a long bow for ranged combat. 

*The Brothers Scipio - Quintus and Sextus* - The Scipio family has a long history of service in both the Emorian Military and the Imperial Service Bureau. Following the sack of Lords, the boys' father Lucius (the only surviving member of the family) relocated to Glynden and took a position with the Brathwaite Mining Company as a mining foreman. He married Julia Atticus, a distant cousin of the Cassuvius family. A virile man, he fathered two sons and seven daughters by the time he was 40. 

Unfortunately, a mine cave-in left him permanently crippled four years ago. Based on his long years of service and excellent work, Boss Braithwaite allowed the family to continue living in their company housing rent free and even provided a small stipend. Lucius constant battle with pain has left him addicted to Krithroot, an herbal painkiller, and he is now bed-ridden and slightly unhinged mentally. 

*Quintus Scipio* (_Human Sorcerer 4_) - The eldest of nine, Quintus carries a heavy weight on his shoulders. He has worked in the mines since his father was injured on a crew under the ultimate supervision of Ned Gallway, with whom he does not get along at all. He feels he must act as the "Father Figure" for the family now, carrying for his younger siblings and findind suitable husbands for his seven sisters. 

A stern and sober young man, he avoids drink and other excesses, since both his grandfather and great-grandfather died early after falling under the spell of the bottle. He has also watched with dismay as his father has declined physically and mentally. Despite his taciturn exterior, Quintus is handsome, has a strong personality and is looked to as a leader by those that know him best. 

He discovered his sorcerous abilities two years ago when attacked by dire rats deep in the mines. The power came to him unbidden and he put the two rats to sleep. One of his fellow miners, Abrigal Edelman, saw what happened, killed the rats, then revealed to him that she too had the "Gift". She tutored him in its use and the two grew close. Recently, however, she has shown an unhealthy interest in Necromancy and Quintus is concerned about this "dark" streak in her. 

In the past several moons, Quintus' world has turned topsy-turvey. His two young cousins, Meikos and Wynda, have gone missing. He had a serious altercation with Ned Gallway, the Brathwaite Mining Company foreman. He caught his beautiful, but foolish sister Sebrina kissing Orsen Jucadius and put them both to sleep after a sharp argument. And his childhood friend, Tomas "Bull" Nacalius, refused to help him find his cousins - taking Orsen Jucadius' side and actually knocking his erstwhile friend down with his war-pony. 

In desperation, Quintus turned to the only people who might know where his cousins are - Lew, Rowan and Rosë. 

After a poor start, Quintus has emerged as somewhat a leader for the group. The successful retrieval of his cousins, the return of the barbarian Kothric to his people and the semi-successful clearing of several abandoned mines have elevated the sorcerer's standing in the group. 

He is quite pleased that Rowan has taken a liking to Maxima, that her twin Luella is turning into a formidable trader and that he has affected the relocation of his entire family to a small caretaker's cabin near the Abbey of Osirian. 

Quintus, however, is beset by problems on every side. Ned Gallway is out to get him, his one-time lover, Abrigal Edelman has disappeared, his eldest sister Sabrina has taken up residence at the Castellan Jucadius as Orsen Jucadius' lover and he has just accussed Josephus of Bremerton, a close friend of Constable Kyndalyn, of poisening his father! 

Following the "trial" in which Josephus was exonerated (at least in the eyes of the law), Quintus couldn't get out of town fast enough! 

In the intervening weeks, following the disasterous battle at the ruined villa and the retrieval of Drusilla Cassuvius, Quintus has become more and more paranoid. He is drawn to the beautiful Drusilla, but finds himself competing with Rowan and Sextus for her attention. He is also quite alarmed by the potential involvement of the Cult of Ashai within the Cassuvius Family through the actions of Domita Sestius, Drusilla's stepmother. 

Quintus makes good use of his magic, both offensively and defensively. He uses a crossbow for ranged combat and a spear on the few occassions that he is called upon for hand-to-hand combat. He is still trying to scrape together the 1,000 denarii needed for the ritual components to summon a familiar! 

*Sextus Scipio* (_Human Bard 3/Ranger 1_) - A year younger and two hand's breadths shorter than his brother, Sextus is as care-free as Quintus is serious. He has yet to find any real direction in life - he studied briefly under Father Thomas, spent a season or two with the militia and even managed to persuade "Uncle" Claudius to teach him a bit about magic, showing an inner apptitude like his brother, only not as focused. 

For one of such small stature, Sextus has a suprisingly booming voice. He can easily make himself heard over a crowd and has used that ability to become somewhat of a fixture at Nan's Tavern. He is skilled with the hand harp, knows lots of stories and is a fairly talented entertainer when he puts his mind to it. He managed to avoid service in the mines, but picks up a few denarii entertaining or doing odd jobs. Although he is cabable of earning coin, he spends it even faster, so he regularly comes to Quintus seeking "loans"! 

His father's illness has impacted him very hard and he often plays soothing music and sings softly to him, which seems to calm the elder Scipio and ease his pain. He is devoted to his older brother and usually follows his lead on issues regarding the family. He is aghast at Sebrina's involvement with the Jucadius boy and just as determined as Quintus to see that put to an end! 

His knowledge of local legend and history have proved to be quite valuable and his charming personality has helped the group several times. The barbarian Kothric took a liking to the diminutive bard and that affection probably helped save the group from almost certain death. The band can count on Sextus to raise their spirits when things look bleakest! 

Sextus can be quite brave (Quintus calls it foolhardy). Numerous times, he has either charged the enemy unsupported or stood his ground when any sane man would run. He also sings stirring ballads during combat, inspiring his comrades to greater feats of arms. That inspiration has turned the tide during several battles! 

Since the rescue of Drusilla, Sextus has been quietly trying to win her affections. Rowan and Quintus are fairly straight-forward, but Sextus use small magic tricks, sleight-of-hand and other tricks to make the young lady laugh. The ultimate results of his efforts remain to be seen! 

Impressed by the combat abilities and general "woodslore" of his friend Rowan, Sextus has been trying to emulate the ranger's movements and has been pestering the ever-patient Rowan about the finer points of tracking! 

_(DM's Note: Sextus chose to cross-class into "Ranger" the last time he levelled.)_ 

Sextus is protected by studded leather armor and uses a short sword in melee combat. He relies on a crossbow for ranged attacks. 

*The Graveyard* 

*Garrick* (_Halfling Rogue 1_) - Slain and partially eaten by dire rats in the abandoned Western Mines (*Session 2*). 

*Marcus Tiro* (_Human Fighter 1_) - Killed by falling into a 15-pace deep pit - twice (*Session 2*). 

Old One


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## Old One

*Campaign Synopsis*

*Campaign Synopsis*

_Spoiler Alert: This post summarizes the campaign up through *Session 10*.  If you are a new reader or want the 'Full Monty' - skip this post and read on!_


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It all began on a blustery spring morning in ER 2994. Kyndalyn the Younger, accompanied by Rowan and two militia members, interrupted Rosë, Marcus Tiro, Lew and Garrick at breakfast. Gnolls had been spotted and their help was needed. Less than an hour and a very difficult battle later, one of the militia members lay dead and several of the party members were near death. The gnolls were defeated, but the cost was steep. They found a crude map on one of the gnolls, indicating several possible campsites around Glynden, but did not have a chance to follow up on the lead. 

Recovering from their wounds, the party learned that two local children, Wynda and Meikos, had gone missing in the abandoned mines northwest of town. They decided to go after the children instead of tracking down the gnolls. They found evidence of the missing children in the 2nd mine trace. Entering the mine, they discovered undead miners and huge spiders, which they handily defeated. They continued on, but disaster soon struck! 

While trying to cross a yawning pit, several of the party members fell into the hole and giant rats attacked soon after. When the blood and dust cleared, Marcus Tiro and Garrick, childhood friends, lay dead. The rest of the party, weakened by wounds and inflicted with rat fever, spent a miserable night in the infirmary while the rest of the town toasted the success of the _Swords of Glynden_, an adventuring group made up of several well-to-do townsfolk and their retainers. The _Swords_ had tracked down a large band of gnolls and destroyed them. 

The following day, Garrick and Marcus Tiro were laid to rest. One, Quintus Scipio, whose cousins had gone missing in the mine, interrupted the ceremony. He and his brother, Sextus, demanded the remaining party members assist them in recovering the children. Although irritated by his abrupt manner – Lew, Rowan and Rosë agreed. Returning to the abandoned mine, they searched high and low, finally discovering a hidden portal, which led to an abandoned complex deep within the mine. Skeletal archers, more undead miners and a stuttering human necromancer soon assaulted them. After a hard fight, they emerged victorious and discovered a nefarious laboratory, with all manner of alchemical substances, vials and equipment. They also discovered large amounts of food, water and mining equipment. 

Stripping the dead necromancer and taking along a large chest, the party retreated from the mine. Rowan and Quintus stayed to keep watch on the mine, while the remainder hustled back to Glynden to refit and gather additional supplies. They arrived back in Glynden, only to find a major barbarian incursion was in the offing. After a hasty conference with Father Thomas – Lew, Sextus and Rosë returned, joined up with Quintus and Rowan and ventured back into the mine. 

Rowan discovered the unholy power of a shrine dedicated to evil (to his dismay) and they finally found the children. They hustled the kids back to town, where they discussed the shrine with Father Thomas. He told them it was a shrine to the *Cult of Ashai* – an ancient assassin’s cult – and advised caution. They returned to the mine, mindful of the need to get back to Glynden before the arrival of the barbarians. They discovered some notes, a map and a journal kept by someone known only as “R”. They also discovered over 150 solidii worth of treasure (a veritable fortune)! Continuing on, they encountered a pit trap and some additional zombies. The ensuing combat left Rowan on the brink of death and Rosë badly wounded. Discretion being the better part of valor, they limped back to Glynden. 

Barbarian warbands milled about town for a while, looking for something or someone then faded into the woodwork. The party prevailed on Father Thomas to accompany them to the ruined shrine. They arrived to find the laboratory cleaned up and cleaned out. When they attempted to enter the shrine room, a large band of undead attacked them, led by the rotting corpse of Luc the Necromancer. A very tough battle ensued and the party was victorious, thanks in large part to the help of Father Thomas. Exploring further, they found another secret door, which lead to a long underground passage that seemed to be the result of a long-dry underground river. They followed the passage for an hour before turning back. 

After seeing Father Thomas safely back to Glynden, they decided to follow-up on some clues in the journal and explore the 5th and 6th mine traces, where a band of miners from the Monrovian Highlands were said to be working. Part way there, they ran into a barbarian warband led by Kothric, the son of a chieftain who was betrothed to Asralla (Rosë’s former lover). A running battle ensued and the party managed to capture Kothric with minimum damage (due in large part to Quintus’ _Sleep_ spells). Following the battle, they learned much of Rosë’s amazing past. They returned the barbarian warrior to Glynden, then were tasked by the Council of Elders with transporting Kothric halfway to the Western Wilds and releasing him. They started to notice that one or two large ravens seemed to be shadowing their moves. 

During the journey, Sextus and Quintus earned the barbarian warrior’s trust and he told them that the warbands were searching for a totem known as the *Artosiak*. As they released him, the poisoned arrow of an unknown assassin struck Kothric down. They attempted to heal him, but were forced to leave by the arrival of dozens of bloodthirsty tribesman. An epic chase began, with the party fleeing and the tribesmen hot on their trail. They took refuge an abandoned legion hill fort and slowly retreated as the barbarian warriors hacked at them. Rowan and Rosë discovered Asralla, Rosë’s one-time lover, hiding in the ruins and hauled her along in the retreat. 

Just as the party was brought to bay, Asralla called upon the power of the *Artosiak* to transform into a great dire bear. The barbarian’s shaman responded by calling on a spirit bear. The two massive creatures raged against each other while the party and tribesmen hacked at each other. After a brutal fight, which left almost two-score tribesmen dead, the remainder of the barbarians fled and Asralla slumped to the ground, dying. With her last breath, she bade Rosë to care for their infant son! 

Scarcely believing they were alive and badly wounded, the party found a hiding spot under a small church to _Osirian_ within the ruins. Quintus, with the *Artosiak* faced down a large band of barbarians, trying to convince them that an unknown assassin had brought Kothric low and they meant the barbarians know harm. Just when it looked as though Quintus would be slain, Kothric revealed himself and the sorcerer was saved! The barbarians took their totem and retreated. The party, after poking about the hillfort for a short time and discovering an ancient burial crypt, hastened back to Glynden. They arrived to discover Quintus and Sextus’ father in a coma, that Sabrina Scipio had run off with Orsen Jucadius and that Quintus’ one-time lover Abrigal had disappeared! 

They decided to resume their exploration of the 5th and 6th mining traces and discovered an abandoned mining camp just outside the 5th mineshaft. Exploring the shaft, they found lots of abandoned mining equipment, but no miners. They also discovered that someone or something was following them around the mine, setting traps. Exploring further, they ran into a group of small reptilian creatures that used magic and shot lots of crossbow bolts. Rowan remembered them as kobolds. After a hard battle, they defeated some kobolds, but found the mine to be riddled with small tunnels – too small for them to clamber about. They had captured one kobold and decided to take him to Glynden for questioning. During the return journey, a large raven swooped down and attacked the kobold, delivering a fatal shock to the poor creature! 

Everyone fired at the bird, which managed to escape, despite several hits. They spent several days refitting in town, during which time they discovered that Quintus’ father had been poisoned. Quintus accused Josephus of Bremerton of using the herbal painkiller Krithroot to poison his father. During the “trial” that followed, Josephus as acquitted, although Quintus still had grave doubts about the woodsman. 

The party decided to travel to Oar in order to: 


Find out more about the Cult of Ashai from the library in the Cathedral of Oar 

Try to reconcile Lew with is brother Marcus 

Warn the trading caravans coming from Oar about possible bandit attacks, since the caravans are the lifeblood of Glynden 

The journey towards Oar proved both dangerous and heartbreaking. 

Several days out of Glynden, the discovered a wrecked carraige belonging to the Cassuvius Family and several dead retainers near a beautiful picnic spot. Rowan determined that Gnoll bandits were responsible for the attack and the party trailed the bandits to their hideout...a crude cabin and barn in the midst of a ruined villa. A quick recon revealed at least half-a-dozen gnolls plus at least one human. 

The party put together a hasty plan of attack and assaulted the compound. From the beginning, things went badly, and then got worse! Most of the bandits resisted Quintus' sleep magics and quickly counter-attacked. Rosë soon fell the to combined attacks of a pair of human rogues and most of the others were badly wounded. They soon heard cries for help from several women. 

The gnoll leader, a huge brute dubbed "Scarnose", threatened to kill the captive women if the party didn't back away. Sextus tried desperately to save them, but the viscious gnoll cut the throats of Calian Cassuvius' three daughters before his horrified eyes! 

Quintus fell shortly thereafter and the party retreated into the woods. Lew and Rosë in one direction - Rowan, Sextus and Quintus in another. All were badly wounded and it looked like the end was near! 

Fortunately, the bandits decided to take their loot and flee, concerned about facing more searchers and/or rescuers. They took the goods they could easily carried and fired the rest. A heavy rainstorm prevented the fire from spreading into the woods and gave enough cover to the party to escape detection. Rowan, returning to the scene of their defeat, found one of the girls, Drusilla Cassuvius, barely alive with a terrible throat wound. 

Lew was able to save the girls' life, but the wound was beyond his power to heal completely and she remains mute. The aftermath of the battle saw fierce debate on whether the party should turn back or continue. Drusilla made it clear that she did not want to return to Glynden, but was evasive about her reasons. In the end, they decided to continue on, after resting and healing. 

Several party members returned to the site of the carraige wreck to bury the dead there and ran into an irrascable old trader, Lathan, and his overloaded mule Bogwell. They invited the strange old man to share their camp, swapped stories with him and traded coin for some the mountain of goods he had strapped to Bogwells' back. He drove a hard bargain for some items and let others go for a fraction of their worth. He cooked the group breakfast the next day and departed towards Glynden, carrying letters for Kyndalyn and Father Thomas. 

All agreed that he was more than he appeared to be - a feeling confirmed by the fact that most of the items he had either sold them or handled the night before now bore faint magical auras, including: Crossbow bolts for Quintus and Sextus, handaxe for Rosë, a satchel of writing utensils for Quintus, Rowan's battered short sword, a large frying pan and a comb for Drusilla. 

Shaking their heads, the party continued south. 

After several days, they came upon the dead bodies of several retainers of the _Swords of Glynden_. The tracks Rowan read pointed to an ambush by gnolls. The gnolls had won and continued south. They buried the retainers and continued. A day later, sharp eyes of several party members prevented them from walking into their own ambush! 

Four gnolls engaged the party from either flank, but without the element of suprise, the party emerged victorious with only a few scratches. They barely had time to savor their victory, however, since several of the gnolls had broken contact and fled towards the ruins of Greenspire. Soon, horn calls and gnoll howls echoed across the hills and a huge gnoll warband (about 40) began pursuing the party! 

The chase was on, but the gnolls soon ran the party to ground. Selecting the best defensive ground they could and making a quick plan, the heroes turned to fight. Osirian smiled upon them - for a combination of good magic use and good luck soon eliminated about 1/4 of the gnolls. Then "Scarnose" made an appearence and rallied his troops, forming a dozen into a wedge to charge the party and demolish them! 

A critical hit by Quintus with an ensorcelled crossbow bolt and a well-timed _Hold Person_ spell by Lew on "Scarnose" broke the gnoll's spirit and the remainder of the warband broke and ran. Howling in triumph, Rosë leapt forward and hewed the head from "Scarnose". To his amazement, the head shimmered and changed into the bloody visage of a young, dark-haired human male. Quintus and Sextus noted a momentary look of shocked recognition on Drusilla's face. 

Gathering what equipment they could, they beat a hasty retreat before the gnolls could regroup. Before they departed, however, Rosë grasped a dull black stone dagger pendant from the ruin of "Scarnose's" body and a shimmering portal opened in the air over his head! Rowan, thinking quickly, slapped the necklace from his hand and the portal soon dissapated. They took both the head and pendant with them. 

As they traveled, virtually everyone felt that they were being watched. Quintus was afraid the necklace was the source of their unease, so they stashed it and then made camp some distance away. 

After dinner that night, Quintus and Sextus questioned Drusilla about the dead human. Reluctantly, she told them that it was her stepbrother, Acrius' head and that discovery confirmed her fears about her stepmother's involvement in her abduction and her sisters' murders! Most of the party slept very poorly that night, haunted by dreams of a dark portal and dull stone dagger aimed at their hearts! 

After a hard days' march, they succeeded in finding the caravan, which had encamped in the ruins of Greenspire. Among the loot they had taken from the body of "Scarnose"/Acrius was a missive from "R" to Skilorn, the bandit chieftain, imploring him to leave the caravan alone on the northern journey. Apparently the message had been delivered, since the caravan had arrived unmolested to that point. 

Drusilla refused to enter the caravan encampment, since her erstwhile fiance, Tomas "The Bull" Nacalius and the other _Swords of Glynden_ were traveling with the caravan. 

Lew and Quintus found a church knight, Pantonius of _Tyrial_, and persuaded him to carry several messages to Father Thomas in Glynden. Rosë and Rowan took all of the gear they had acquired through several victories over the gnolls and tried to sell it to a halfling trader from House Schulcross. The trader drove a hard bargain and Rowan ended up trading everything for a Sythian horsebow and 50 arrows! 

As we left of at the end of Session 10, the party was preparing to resume their travels to the City of Oar... 

*Current Plot Hooks* 

There are many things at play right now, including (in no particular order): 

*The Mysterious “R” and the Cult of Ashai* – “R”, clearly a necromancer of some power, is up to no good in the abandoned western mines. What is she up to and how can they stop her? Also, what is her relationship, if any, to Skilorn the bandit king and Domita Sestius, second wife of Calian Cassivius? 

*Rosë and his Past* – The barbarian’s checkered past has raised its ugly head several times. 

*Crimson and Black* – The colors keep showing up…in the shrine of Ashai, the livery of the bandits operating around the ruins of Greenspire and Lew’s dreams. 

*The Felevar Arrow* – The arrow fired into Kothric by the “Mystery Assassin” has been identified as a Felevar arrow. 

*Abrigal is Missing* – Where has she disappeared to? 

*Quintus and Sextus’ Father was Poisoned* – With the prime suspect Josephus off the hook (at least temporarily), who did it and why? 

*Sabrina Scipio and Orsen Jucadius* – The brothers Scipio are none-to-happy about their wayward sister’s choices. 

*Rosë’s Child* – The infant, named Gordius Vercinox, is currently in the care of the Scipio family. Will Rosë meet his parental responsibilities? 

*The Barbarians of the Western Wilds* – What keeps them from crossing the Thunder River and wiping out the remains of the Lost Northern Provinces? 

*The Abandoned Hillfort* – What secrets, if any, does the structure still hold? Will Sextus make good his claim upon the fort for the family Scipio? 

*Rowan and Maxima Scipio* – Will the growing affection between them lead to something more? 

*Drusilla and her family* - With family ties like hers, who needs enemies? Why is she so determined to get to Oar? 

*Drusilla and Quintus, Sextus and Rowan* - She is beautiful and quiet...who will win her heart? 

Stay tuned for more! 

Old One


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## Old One

*Supporting Players + Background Stuff*

*SUPPORTING PLAYERS*

*Brother Thomas* - Abbott of _Osirian_ in Glynden, Lew's superior, friend and mentor

*Kyndalyn the Younger* - Constable of Glynden.  One of the few _Caeldyn_ - or "Elven-blooded" - in town.

*Bigglestrom "Boss" Brathwaite* - Head of the Brathwaite Mining Company. Easily the richest and most powerful man in Glynden.

*Ned Gallway* - Boss Brathwaite's right hand man and mining foreman.  Former boss and current enemy of Quintus.

*Josephus of Bremerton* - Trapper, tracker, tobacco-chewer and part-time militia scout. Hails from the town of Bremerton, sacked several winters ago by a barbarian horde.  Accussed by Quintus of trying to poison Quintus and Sextus' father.  Acquitted during a trial administered by Father Thomas and Kyndalyn.

*Octave Octorus, Tomas "Bull" Nacalius and Orsen Jucadius* - Sons of three of the wealthier families in town, they have started calling themselves the Swords of Glynden. They used to pick on both Marcus Tiro and Garrick when younger.  Tomas was once friends with Quintus, but wealth and status have grown up between them.  The Bros. Scipio beautiful (but foolish) younger sister, Sabrina, is currently the consort of Orsen Jucadius.

*"Uncle" Claudius Sentenius* - An increasingly senile battlemage that was mustered out of the Legions before they sailed for Emor 30 winters ago. Still capable of some feats of magic, but spends most of his waking hours in his cups at Nan's Tavern.

*Kothric* - Barbarian chieftan defeated, but later befriended, by the party.  Betrothed to Asralla, the deceased one-time lover of Rose.

*Asralla* - Daughter of a barbarian warlord who was betrothed to Kothric.  Fell in love with Rose and bore his child.  Sacrificed herself to save Rose and the party during a battle in an old hillfort.

*Brother Patroclian* - Charismatic traveling priest of _Osirian_ from the Jewel Cities who befriended Lew's younger brother, Marcus.  Departed Glynden some time ago with Marcus in tow.

*Skilorn* - Bandit chieftain, thought to be gnollish, that is plaguing the area between Glynden and the port city of Oar.

*Lathan and Bogwell* - Strange trader and his overburdened mule encountered by the party.  Sold them a variety of goods, some of which turned out to be magical.

*Drusilla Cassuvius* - Only Cassuvius daughter to survive a murder attempt by "Scarnose" the gnoll, who turned out to be her step-brother Acrius Sestius under magical disguise.  Currently traveling with the party.  The murder attempt left her mute.  Rowan and Quintus are vying for her attentions.

*Domita Sestius Cassuvius* - 2nd wife of Calian Cassuvius and step-mother to Drusilla.  Suspected of being behind the attempt on the Cassuvius daughters' lives.

*THE VILLAGE OF GLYNDEN*

*Location and History:* Nestled betwixt two rocky ridges at the southern end of the Dragon’s Tail range lies the mining and farming village of Glynden. It began as a collection of ragged tents around a single mine shaft over 250 winters ago. Once a part of the Imperial Theme of Lords, Glynden is one of the few holdings in the Lost Northern Provinces that has not been overrun by barbarians or the Felevar (Fels for short). Glynden was once the home of the 4th Cohort of the Rustica Auxilia and has significant, if crumbling, fortifications that have helped it survive. In addition, it is not adjacent to any of the major trade routes, so it attracts little attention.

Nevertheless, Glynden has survived ½ dozen barbarian incursions since the legions withdrew 30 winters ago. Several times, the village has come close to disaster, but has recovered each time. Several neighboring hamlets have been destroyed in recent years and their survivors now call Glynden home (Aquae Sulis, Ironoak, Greenspire and Bremerton - all but Aquae Sulis within five days walk of Glynden). Perhaps 700 souls now reside in Glynden and they make their living primarily from mining the rich iron and tin deposits in the surrounding hills and through farming.

Glynden boasts a large militia (about 100 – 10 always on duty, 50 within 1 hour, 100 with 3 hours) and their constant watchfulness help keeps danger at bay. Glynden is also the home of an ex-Emorian battlemage, who was mustered out of the legions just before they withdrew – Claudius Sentenius. “Uncle Claudius”, as the village children know him, is old and forgetful, but he can still call up some magical energy when the situation is desperate (he will also tutor aspiring wizards in simple spells, but the instruction process is long and arduous, as he often falls asleep during lessons or is too drunk to make much sense). The final reason for the village’s survival is that it lies within the shadow of Dragonspire Mountain. The barbarians, Fels and Dark Druids all give Dragonspire Mountain a wide berth, for it has an evil reputation.

Both legends and eyewitnesses agree that Dragonspire Mountain is the home of a great and terrible elder wyrm who has resided on the mountain’s peaks for over a century. The dragon does not bother Glynden or the other few surviving communities in the Lost Northern Provinces, but has been known to descend on large groups of armed men and utterly destroy them. Several barbarian hordes and Felevar armies are said to have perished under dragon fire and claw. Also, no one has ever successfully visited the dragon’s lair (and lived to tell the tale). Those few that have ventured close to the summit and returned tell tales of being chased away by a band of fearsome rock trolls. The trails and paths that lead to the upper reaches of the mountain are strewn with the skeletal remains of those that have sought the wyrm’s treasure and failed (each skeleton is laid out in a neat pile, skull on top, with their mundane gear stacked neatly beside it – no treasure or magical items are ever found among the remains). Some few report seeing a tall, slender tower rising into the mists on the highest peak of the mountain, but most reporting such a sight were found wandering aimlessly about the base, dazed and confused.

Curiously, the great wyrm has never bothered Glynden and most of the villagers seek to discourage would-be adventurers from stirring up trouble on the mountain.

*Leadership:* Glynden is ruled by a “Council of Elders”. They meet weekly in the Council Chamber located next to the market square to administer justice and discuss problems facing the village. The Council meetings are generally open to all and usually take place on the evening of Market Day. See Important Personages for those who sit on the Council.

*Trade/Outside Relations:* Traders come to Glynden two or three times a year, trading finished goods and luxury items for iron and tin ore, foodstuffs and the hardy mountain ponies bred at several of the surviving villas. Only large, well-armed caravans make the trip and they are normally controlled by one of the halfling trading families. Local craftsmen of note include a decent blacksmith, a good stonemason, an excellent leatherworker and a fair bowyer. All other finished goods must be imported (chief among these is metal armor – such as chain mail and the lorica segmentata). Horses, especially trained war mounts, are in very short supply (and very expensive), most families use mountain ponies, mules or ox-carts for transportation.

Other travelers are fairly rare, especially after the Suevi tribe sacked Bremerton 2 winters ago. Bremerton was the closest thing Glynden had for a trading partner, but the town, four days walk to the west and north, is now a deserted ruin. Those few that survived the attack now call Glynden home. Occasionally, a bard or tinker will stop in Glynden, bringing word from Oar or the Monrovian Highlands. Also, adventuring bands regularly use the village as a way stop in their forays into the North.

As often as not, the bright-eyed, eager youths that leave Glynden boasting of the deeds they will do return hard-eyed with terrible wounds and even worse tales – or fail to return at all. The jaded gamblers at Nan’s Tavern now lay wagers on who will or won’t return and those that bet against the adventurers win all too often. Perhaps two in three of the lads and lasses that pass through Glynden as fortune seekers are never heard from again.

*Important Personages:* There are still several veins of iron and tin that are actively mined, with perhaps half a hundred miners working the lodes. All of the miners currently work for the Brathwaite Mining Company, run by “Boss” Bigglestrom Brathwaite, easily the richest (and most powerful) man in Glynden. Several smaller operations have closed in recent months due to cave-ins or monstrous attacks. Boss Brathwaite has hired the remaining workers from the shuttered operations and actually expanded his own. Some in Glynden grumble that the misfortunes at the other mining operations were no coincidence, but Brathwaite denies any wrongdoing. Boss Brathwaite sits on the Council of Elders.

Calian Cassuvius is probably the second most important citizen of Glynden, even though he doesn’t live in the village proper. He and his family live in Castellan Cassuvius a large, fortified villa an hour’s walk south of Glynden. He is a tall man of aristocratic bearing, although almost 70 winters have stooped his shoulders a bit. Local lore holds that the Cassuvius family has held the villa for over eight hundred years!

The family Cassuvius still affects the style of Imperial Emor, in speech, dress and attitude. It is said that a visit to their holding is like returning to the glory days of the Empire, 300 winters hence. They hold a lavish banquet once a year, inviting the notables of Glynden and the other local villas. Calian regularly bemoans the fact that most “necessary luxuries” are so difficult to come by these days and is known to pay well for interesting works of art. The three greatest treasures that reside in Castellan Cassuvius, however, are Calian’s three daughters – Ludmilla, Drusilla and Carmilla – all great beauties of marriable age.

The ponies bred by Calian and his charges are said to be the swiftest and sturdiest within two weeks ride. Castellan Cassuvius also produces ample wheat and barley in its high-walled fields. Perhaps four score people call the Cassuvius compound home, and they are not counted among the inhabitants of the village. Calian Cassuvius sits on the Council of Elders. Three other fortified villas still exist, held by the Jucadius, Nacalius and Octorus families. Each of these families also holds a seat on the Council of Elders.

Young Father Thomas maintains the small abbey dedicated to the Church of Light. It is open to all who are “welcomed” into the Church. Father Thomas has ministered to the needs of the local parishioners since Father Holthyn disappeared while returning from one of the outlaying villas five winters ago. Two Acolytes of the First Mystery and four Lay Brothers assist Father Thomas at the abbey. Father Thomas holds a seat on the Council of Elders.

Kyndalyn the Younger commands the village militia. His father, Kyndalyn the Fair, his uncle, Farinmail, and their pack of staghounds succeeded in defeating a large war-band from the Averni tribe on a tall hill just to the southwest of Glynden. The Averni, over 90 strong, came at the town in the dead of night, in a heavy snowfall, just after the Midwinter’s Eve celebration. Had it not been for the watchfulness of Kyndalyn and Farinmail, it is likely that the village would have suffered the same fate as many of the others throughout the North.

Some in the village reported hearing sounds of battle, but the swirling winds made it impossible to discern the direction. The following morning, the rising Eye of Osirian illuminated a terrible sight. Atop the rocky tor, not 700 paces from the village gate, stood Kyndalyn the Fair, dead and rimed in ice, twin blades still clutched in unfeeling hands, amidst a circle of fallen foes. Kyndalyn, Farinmail and their score of hounds had all traveled to the Deathsgate – but so had every single one of the Averni! The grieving villagers built a lofty cairn over the brothers and their faithful hounds and to this day the hill is known as Kyndalyn’s Watch.

All of these events occurred 20 winters ago, when Kyndalyn the Younger was but a babe. Today he is a grim-faced young man of few words. He drills the militia hard, but is regarded as a fair leader. It is said that he rarely sleeps and spends much time patrolling the countryside around Glynden. His slightly pointed ears and straw-colored hair betray his elven heritage, for he is of the Caeldyn. Kyndalyn the Younger holds the title of Constable of Glynden and sits on the Council of Elders.

*Threats/Opportunities:* The greatest threats to Glyndon’s survival are the barbarian tribes of the Western Wilds. Raiding bands of numerous tribes have been seen in the area in the past several moons and the Council of Elder is concerned that one or more tribes may try to sack the village, destroying it as they did Bremerton. To make matters worse, one of the militia patrols clashed with several Fels recently, so those fey and evil creatures may be moving down from the Darkwood, looking for plunder and a “hot” meal.

The entire North, however, is dotted with lost ruins. Cities, abbeys, towns, towers, old dwarven holds and deserted legion forts are everywhere. Many have undoubtedly been picked clean by bold adventurers, but who knows what may still lie buried out there.

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 1 (Part One)*

*Of Rats and Men...*

A fine spring day in the Lost Northern Provinces...overcast and chilly, with the threat of rain to come later. A recurrence of Rosë's stomach ailment returned him to the Abbey of Osirian and the care of Father Thomas (Rosë's player - John - was unable to make the session due to car problems). Lew, Garrick and Marcus Tiro were taking their mid-day meal at Nan's Tavern (mutton stew, day-old pumpernickel bread and slightly overripe radishes) when a red-faced Rowan burst into the tavern. Kyndalyn the Younger and two militia men, Vittius and Sanio were close on his heels.

"Gnolls!" he blurted out breathlessly. "Over by King's Mountain (referrencing a low, wooded hill about a league southwest of Glynden), the Old Man left me a warning totem, they are definitely heading this way and up to some kind of mischief!"

The others exchanged knowing glances. "Did the Old Man tell you this himself?" queried Garrick with a barely suppressed smirk.

"No", replied Rowan, face darkening slightly at the implication that his friends didn't really "believe" in the existence of the Old Man, "he left this." Rowan held up a bundle of bark with some symbols scratched into it and several feathers attached. "I know it doesn't look like much, but I swear its true!"

Kyndalyn stepped forward and in his usual gruff manner growled, "We don't have time for idle banter. Real or imagined, we must see if this rumor holds truth. Marcus Tiro, fetch your gear and come with Rowan, Vittius, Sanio and myself. Would you two care to join us?" He nodded towards Lew and Garrick.

Lew sighed, "Let me fetch my stave and medical kit."

Garrick plucked at his sleeve, "Shouldn't we let the militia handles this? I've never seen a gnoll before, but they sound dangerous!"

Lew shot Garrick a withering look and the halfling ducked his head, embarrassed. "Let me gather a few things," he mumbled sheepishly.

Within 15 turns of the minute glass, the small group passed through the gates and started heading southwest. Kyndalyn instructed the gate guards to call up the reserve and double the wall guard...just in case. Kyndalyn and Rowan ranged ahead of the group by half a spear's throw, moving quickly and quietly through the light woods and tangled underbrush. Soon, the rocky promentory of King's Mountain appeared ahead and Kyndalyn guided the party to a hiding place on the Northeast side of the summit.

"Rowan, with me," he whispered, "the rest of you stay put and stay quiet." With that, Kyndalyn and Rowan crept to the top of the hillock and hunkered down, looking and listening. Before long, Kyndalyn's sharp ears picked up movement below and the pair could see several forms moving along a game path, about a bowshot distant.

Carefully backing off the hill, they returned to the rest of the party and Kyndalyn led them around to the Southeast and into some large rocks just above the game trail. "Prepare yourself," he whispered, "they should be here very soon. Do not attack until I loose."

He unslung his long bow and placed several arrows tip down in the ground within easy reach. Rowan did the same with his short bow, Garrick loaded his light crossbow with trembling hands - mumbling something about the lunacy of leaving the comfort of Nan's Tavern, and the rest of the group readied their weapons and waited. Lew quietly called for the Blessing of _Osirian_ on all present and each member of the party felt their spirits and sword arms strengthen.

Soon, they could hear low, gutteral voices and the voices were followed by four gnolls. The were all dressed in ill-fitting leather armor, reinforced by small metal studs and plates. The lead gnoll had a large wooden shield slung over his back and rested a notched axe on his shoulder. The next two in line also carried axes, but also carried a large wicker cage, suspended from a long wooden pole, in which several large grey-furred creatures squirmed. The last gnoll had a long bow and quiver slung across its back and shouldered a long, heavy-headed spear-like weapon. The gnolls seemed unaware of the party's presence.

Just as Kyndalyn was drawing an arrow to his ear, a high-pitched buzzing sound filled the air and an arrow, coming from the other side of the trail, buried itself in a beech tree a pace or two away from the last gnoll in line. Stunned, for a moment, the last gnoll barked an order, stuck his spear-weapon in the ground point first and unslung his bow. The rest of the gnolls crouched low, gripping their weapons and looking about uncertainly. The gnolls attention was riveted to the right side of the trail and the party was positioned on the left.

"At them!" yelled Kyndalyn, loosing an arrow. Rowan and Garrick followed suit, but the first volley fell ineffectually among the gnolls. Rowan targeted the gnoll with the bow, but it twisted aside at the last minute, causing his arrow to glance off its armored chest. Marcus Tiro, Vittius and Sanio raised their shields and moved forward cautiously through the rocks.

The two gnolls with the wicker cage ducked behind a large tree for cover. The lead gnoll hefted his axe and shield and charged up the hill, seeking an opponent and the gnoll with the bow returned fire at Rowan, striking him solidly. Rowan staggered and almost fell, but Lew stepped forward and called upon the power of _Osirian_ to heal his friend. A nimbus of blue-white light surround the cleric's hands and Rowan felt a surge of power as his greivous wound closed!

A second volley of missles by the party was as impotent as the first. Then the gnolls that had ducked behind the tree charged up the hill, led by three huge, slavering rats as big as Garrick! The battle soon degenerated into a confused melee, with gnolls, rats and militia men hacking, biting and slashing at each other.

Vittius charged down the hill to engage the bow-weilding gnoll, only to be shot through the lung from less than 5 paces away. Sanio stepped around a boulder and straight into the waiting axes of two gnolls. He fell quickly from several powerful axe blows. Marcus Tiro met the charge of a gnoll and two rats, holding the line and preventing the center of the party from being overrun. Kyndalyn fired one last shot from his bow, wounding a gnoll, then discarded it in favor of two short swords. Garrick crouched behind a tree, taking pot shots at enemies as the opportunity presented itself. Finally, Rowan engaged in an arrow duel with the gnoll archer.

Marcus Tiro dealt several solid blows before his multiple opponents dropped him, bleeding severely from numerous grave wounds. Reaching deep within himself and overcoming his fear, Garrick felled the gnoll that had just smashed Marcus Tiro to the ground with a bolt right though its vile throat. Then he sprinted forward to try to staunch the blood flowing from Marcus Tiro's wounds. Kyndalyn quickly dispatched one gnoll and engaged another, although he took a wound to the thigh. Rowan hit the gnoll archer with a glancing shot, but was rewarded by an arrow in the chest and slumped to the ground. Again, Lew stepped forward and chanelled the power of _Osirian_ into his friend, reviving him from his stupor.

Garrick slapped a makeshift bandage on the worst of Marcus Tiro's injuries, stemming the flow of red blood, but was immediately set upon by two of the huge rats. Unable to fend them off, he fell beneath their slavering bites. Meanwhile, Kyndalyn finished off the gnoll he was facing, side-stepped and skewered one of the rats atop Garrick. As Rowan pulled himself back up, another rat rounded a boulder and flung itself on him. Lew stepped forward and struck it with his stave, cracking its foreleg. Undaunted, the pain maddened rat continued to lunge at them. The gnoll archer, seeing an opportunity, shifted his fire from the armored Rowan to the unarmored Lew and put an arrow into his ribs, dropping him to the ground and leaving him on the verge of unconsiousness. Rowan ducked behind a boulder, drew his short sword and attempted to finish off the wounded rat, which managed to slip aside and dodge his blow.

Kyndalyn's sure blow felled the second of the three rats and, leaving the final rat to Rowan, the constable charged down the hill toward the gnoll archer. The gnoll shifted his aim to the charging Kyndalyn, but only grazed him. The remaining rat, preferring a defenseless target to an active one, lunged forward and sank its teeth into Lew's prone form, sending him into blackness. Again, Rowan, slashed at the rat and again the pesky rodent rolled under his blow.

The gnoll archer dropped his bow and lunged for his spear-weapon, but Kyndalyn got there first and eviscerated the dog-man with two well-placed thrusts. Back up the hill, the rat ducked under Rowan's guard and sank its teeth into his leg. Waves of pain rolled over Rowan and he came close to falling, but he focused his anger and finally pinned the rodent to the ground with his short sword, severing its spine.

Their enemies vanquished, Kyndalyn and Rowan quickly saw to their friends. Despite the bodies littering the ground, only Sanio had travelled to Deathsgate. Only Marcus Tiro's youth and hardy constitution prevented him from following, for he was sorely wounded.

_(DM Note: I use a house rule that "Death's Door" is -10 +/- CON modifier - Marcus Tiro got down to -11, one away from death)_

Lew, Garrick and Vittius - although badly hurt - were not in danger of expiring immediately. Kyndalyn left Rowan to guard the fallen and ran back to Glynden for help.

Several times, Rowan thought he heard movement, but did not see any dangers approaching. After what seemed like eons to Rowan, but was, in reality only an hour and a quarter, Kyndalyn returned with an ox-cart and Lew's brother Marcus, from the Abbey of _Osirian_. Marcus invoked _Osirian's_ power to return all but Vittius to wakefulness. They did a quick search of the area, stripped the gnolls of their weapons and armor, discovered a small pouch of denarii and sestercii on the body of the archer along with a crude map of the area around Glynden. It was marked with several "Xs" and some writing that stated "Beware of K". They found no trace of the arrow that had warned the gnolls just before their ambush, although they searched for it extensively. Just "Who" or "What" had fired that arrow, they all pondered.

With nighttime approaching, they returned to Glynden. Lew and Marcus, brothers in blood and in the service of _Osirian_, said nary a word to each other on the return trip. The entire party, along with Vittius, where housed in the Abbey infirmary that evening so Father Thomas could look after their wounds. That precaution turned out to be warranted, as both Marcus Tiro and Rowan took a serious fever from their rat bites before the next morning. Garrick and Lew followed close on their heels. Even with the assistance of Father Thomas and the miracles of _Osirian_, it was several days before all of them returned to full health.

During that time, Lew's brother Marcus departed Glynden in the company of Brother Patroclian, a visiting cleric of _Osirain_ from the Jewel Cities, bound for the port city of Oar - three weeks journey to the South. He left without any reconciliation with Lew as the two stubbornly refused to talk to each other. As they recovered, they debated whether they wanted to follow-up on the map they had discovered or search for two children, Meikos and Wynda Usaris who had gone missing in the abandoned mine traces West of Glynden.

After consulting Kyndalyn, they opted to try to locate the kids first and set out for the abandoned Western Traces...

*To Be Continued...*

*Next: Session 1 (Part Two): Look out for the Miner 49er...*

_(DM's Note: The first battle was almost the last for the group. I roll attack and damage rolls in the open and had some seriously "hot" dice, including two criticals - fortunately by rats - not gnolls. The party, on the other hand, couldn't hit the broadside of a barn with their missile fire - 0 hits in the first six shots and didn't do much better in melee. They also made a couple of minor tactical errors. Despite not having any ranks in Heal or a proper bandage, Garrick rolled a "20" to stabilize Marcus Tiro, who was one hit point away from traveling to Deathsgate. All-in-all, a VERY tough fight. It probably would have gone easier if Rosë had been there - maybe next time!)_


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## Old One

*Session 1 (Part Two)*

*Look out for the Miner 49er...*

What little information they had on the kids was their ages (12 and 10), what they were wearing when last seen and the general vicinity they were last seen in. A significant storm rolled through the area the night they disappeared and there was conjecture that they might have taken refuge in one of the old mines.

The party (Lew, Garrick, Marcus Tiro and Rowan) set out on the morning of Marktday (Market Day), passing several carts of produce straining up the switchback trail to bring their goods - mainly spring wheat, turnips and "Cor-apples" (an apple-like plant that blooms in the spring). Garrick "liberated" a cor-apple from one of the carts and munched on the tangy fruit as they marched. The day was actually sunny and pleasant, with a slight breeze blowing out of the southwest.

The last of the Western Trace mines had been abandoned about three winters earlier, when the Kolthir Mining Company folded after losing a dozen miners in the space of several weeks to an unknown menace. Garrick piped in that he had heard from Nan about a band of miners from Clan MacGlowan in the Monrovian Highlands who had passed through while they were laid up and indicated they planned to set-up operations in two of the abandoned western mining shafts.

About mid-day, Rowan located two sets of fairly fresh tracks along the 2nd trace and thought they lead into the mouth of the mine.

_(DM's Note: A mining trace is the detrius left over from the mining operation. It is usually a mixture of silt, stones and worthless "tracings" of whatever metal is being mined piled up outside of the mine entrance. They usually stretch for a bowshot or more away from the mine.)_

The intrepid band reached the yawning mouth of the mine, where the tracks disappeared into inky darkness. Everyone paused and they looked at each other expectantly. Marcus Tiro asked, "Alright...who brought the torches?"

It was quickly determined that no one had a ready light source, so a lunch break was called while Marcus Tiro rushed back to town and purchased some torches, flint and steel! On the way back out, he told the gate guards where they think the children may be. After that brief interlude, the party descended into the mining tunnels. Every five paces or so, thick wooden support beams braced the walls and the ceiling.

They quickly came to a four-way intersection. Ahead, they saw what looked to be a rail system, while the tunnels on the right and left were boarded up about 5 paces in. There was a 2-pace by 2-pace hole knocked out of the boards covering the right hand tunnel and the dust on the other side looked to Rowan like it had been recently disturbed, so they decided to head off in that direction.

After some shuffling about..."You hold the torch, I must have my hands free for my sword and shield."..."No, I can't use my staff if I hold the torch and what if I have to call upon the miracles of _Osirian_?"...they finally proceeded down the tunnel, which turned to the left after 25 or so paces. Continuing forward, the tunnel opened up into a larger chamber, perhaps 20 paces in width and another 40 in length.

_(DM's Note: A "pace" IMC is about 2 feet.)_

Around the perimeter of the chamber, the party saw the cracked remains of wooden bunk beds, mostly fallen in on each other. Rotted bedding was strewn about the room and piles of fist-sized stones lay in several places where part of the ceiling had fallen in. They moved cautiously into the chamber and start working their way down the left hand wall. As they passed the third bunk, they heard a low moan and a dessicated hand swiped at Rowan. Rising from the ruin of the bed was the rotted remains of a long-dead miner, pick-axe still clutched in its undead hands.

Lew stepped forward, raised the sunburst symbol of _Osirian_ and called upon the righteous might of the One True God to send the abomination to its final rest. Bluish-White light flared and the corpse cringed from the power of _Osirian_ and fled away from Lew. Marcus Tiro and Rowan pursued it and quickly hacked it to pieces in the far corner of the chamber. They quickly noticed that there was a stout door near that corner and an exit passage close by.

While they were discussing what to do next, several more moans issued from the passage and three more undead miners shambled forth, fixing hateful gazes upon the party and raising rusty pick-axes. Again, Lew stepped forward and reached deep within himself - calling forth resevoirs of strength from _Osirian_. "Begone from here," he shouted,"return to the dust!"

A blinding blue-white light sprang from Lew and engulfed the three unnatural foes, consuming them in holy flames! Three pick-axes clattered loudly to the floor, scattering the zombie dust. Garrick looked at Lew with awe and admiration, "Can you teach ME to do that!"

_(DM's Note: One of Lew's Domains is Sun and he rolled REALLY well on this "Greater Turning" check.)_

Garrick, Marcus Tiro and Rowan turned their attention to the door, while Lew kept watch down the passage, confident that _Osirian_ would help him defeat any further incursions by the undead abominations. The door proved to be stoutly locked and wouldn't budge, despite the best efforts of Marcus Tiro and Rowan. "Let me take a look at that," Garrick said.

The dexterous halfling quickly overcame the door's lock and Marcus Tiro shouldered the door open and peered inside. Numerous crates, barrels and boxes were stacke haphazardly about the 10-pace diameter chamber, which was also covered with cobwebs. Just as Marcus Tiro was about to turn and inform his companions, he felt a "plop" on his back. Rowan and Garrick's eyes widened as an enormous black and orange banded spider dropped down a web filament onto their companion's back.

"Aaaaggghhhh!" screamed Marcus Tiro as the creature's mandibles, dripping with yellowish liquid, sank into his flesh. Dropping his torch, which sputtered but did not extinguish, he tried to flip over on his back and crush the monster underneath him. Unfortunately, his feet tangled and he fell into a heap. The spider nimbley raised itself on it's web strand for a moment, then dropped on his chest, mandibles clashing. From the interior of the room, Rowan and Garrick could see two more of the monstrosities advancing toward the prone Marcus Tiro.

Garrick loaded his crossbow and tried to jump up on one of the bunks to get a shot into the room. The rotten wood crumbled under him and he sprawled on the floor, discharging his crossbow. Rowan drew his short sword and moved up to attack. Marcus Tiro attempted to squash one of the spiders with his bare hands and received another viscious bite for his trouble. This wound burned like the fires of hell itself and Marcus Tiro suddenly felt weaker.

The second spider dropped on him, but its mandibles failed to penetrate his armor. The third scuttled over to the fallen halfling and sank its mandibles into his prone form, drawing a scream of pain from Garrick as he felt a wave of weakness wash over him. Undaunted, however, Garrick rolled to his feet and pulled out a dagger.

Hearing the screams of agony, Lew rushed to aid his companions and in short order, the floor was covered with spider ichor as short sword, dagger, stave and bare hands did their work (although not before Marcus Tiro suffered another painful bite that weakened him even further). The party rested for a few moments, then determined that they would leave the storage room alone for the time being and continue to search for the missing children.

*To Be Continued...*

*Next: Session 2 (Part One) - Four Rats and a Hole*

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 2 (Part One)*

When we last left off, our intrepid band had just defeated several undead miners and some very large and very nasty spiders. 

*Four Rats and a Hole...*

Marcus Tiro and Garrick's spider bites still burned, leaving them light-headed and weakened. Before pressing on, they decided to examine the contents of the storage chamber. Garrick and Marcus Tiro rummaged through the boxes, crates and barrels - discovering a variety of mining equipment including picks and shovels, lanterns and several casks of lamp oil.

They quickly replaced their sputtering torches with a lantern, prepared another as a reserve and rejoined Rowan and Lew in the subterranean bunk house.

Back in town, while the party was waltzing with zombies and doing the cha-cha with venomous arachnids, Rosë hauled himself out of his cot in the Abbey infirmary. "I can stay here no longer," he mumbled through gritted teeth, "the others are out matching blades with great dangers while I lay here mewling like a newborn kitten!"

He readied his gear, heedless of the cramps that continued to twist his innards and the sweat dampening his forehead and stumbled out into the sunlight for the first time in a week. The gate guards exchanged quizzical looks as the unkempt barbarian, slightly hunched and in obvious pain, demanded to know where his companions were. Rosë grunted his thanks, hefted his sword and departed to the Northwest, wincing in pain with every step.

_(DM's Note: Rosë was still suffering from his stomach ailment and at an effective -1 to both STR and CON.)_

The main party started down the passageway leading out of the chamber with the ruined bunks, with Rowan scouting slightly ahead. After 30 paces, the rough hewn corridor turned to the left. As they started to make the turn, several of the party members thought they could here faint shouting echoing through the area. The group shuffled to a halt and everyone stood still for a moment, heads cocked, listening intently.

No additional sounds were heard. "Probably just air moving throught the mine shafts," Lew speculated.

They hadn't gone 5 paces before they heard the noise again and several thought they actually heard their names being called. After a hasty conference, the party backtracked towards the mine entrance, where they found Rosë leaning on his sword and bellowing, "Lew, Garrick...Rowan, Marcus Tiro!" at the top of his lungs in heavily accented Tradespeak.

Eyeing the sweating barbarian, Rowan inquired with a raised eyebrow, "I thought you were sick."

His face reflecting continuing internal distress, Rosë replied through gritted teeth, "I got better!"

United again, the party decided to travel down the main tunnel, following the mine cart track. Within 60 paces, they reached a four-way juncture, with the mine cart tracks continuing forward into the darkness. In the center of the juncture, the floor hand fallen out, leaving a gaping 4 to 5 pace hole. The floor around the hole was fractured in numerous places and the fault lines radiated outwards for a pace or more in some places and looked unstable. The mine cart track and crosspieces were intact and looked stable.

Quickly deciding on a course of action, Rowan deftly secured a length of rope to himself and tied the other end around Garrick. The nimble halfling balanced himself on one of the rails and crossed the chasm with no difficulty, securing the rope on the other side to one of the cross-ties.

In short order, Rosë and Lew crossed, using the rope secured to Rowan on one side and the cart track on the other side to steady themselves. Marcus Tiro looked suspiciously at the arrangement for a moment, started to say something, then shrugged his broad shoulders and started across. 

On the far side, Rosë and Garrick strained to see past the feeble light thrown off by the lantern on the ground at Rowan's feet. Garrick felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise as his keen ears picked up some chittering sounds in the darkness. He readied his crossbow and nodded to Rosë, who hefted his sword. As four pairs of glowing yellow eyes appeared from the shadows, a loud scream from behind caused the pair to jump!

"Clumsy oaf," Marcus Tiro cursed under his breath as he slipped from the rail midway through the crossing. He desperately grasped for the guide rope, but it eluded his outstretched hands. The cart rail proved equally difficult to obtain a purchase on. Arms windmilling in a doomed attempt to fly, Marcus Tiro disappeared into the pit - the sound of his own screaming filling his ears.

Rowan stared with disbelief as his friend disappeared into the yawning hole. He clearly heard the fighter crash heavily onto the floor below and detected a faint moan. "We've got rats!" Garrick yelled on the far side. After a moments hesitation, Rowan maneuvered near the edge of the hole and used the rope still attached to his waist to rappel to the bottom. He had just enough length to make it.

Above, things were not going well for Lew, Rosë and Garrick. As the enormous rats bounded out of the tunnel, yellow eyes and yellow teeth shining, Garrick's first panicked shot missed by a large margin and the bolt shattered against the ceiling. The barbarian stepped forward and prepared to meet the charging rats. Rosë swung his sword in a vicious arc when the first rat came within reach. The nimble rodent danced aside and Rosë's momentum carried his stroke into the wall with crushing force, badly bending the tip of his sword!

_(DM's Note: On his first attack, our barbarian friend rolled a crit fumble, seriously damaging his sword - that was the highlight of his combat!)_

Then the rats were upon them! Three of the rats swarmed onto Rosë and one slipped past to attack Garrick. The barbarian swung desperately at the one that scurried past him, but his sword cut naught but air. His attention diverted for a moment, all three rats he was facing squirmed past his guard and sank their teeth into the barbarian is several places - including a severe wound in one thigh. Rosë slumped against the cold stone wall, barely retaining consciousness.

Garrick flung down his crossbow and whipped out a dagger. He sidestepped the lunge of halfling-sized rodent and slashed at with his dagger. The rat jumped aside and Garrick connected with the floor, shattering the dagger into metallic slivers.

_(DM's Note: Critical fumble number 2!)_

Meanwhile, down in the pit, Rowan located the badly injured Marcus Tiro and tried to bandage him up the best he could in the feeble light filtering down from above. He utterd a quick prayer to _Osirian_ and began climbing back up the rope to aid his companions.

Above, things had gone from bad to worse. Rosë, barely on his feet, made a feeble swipe at a rat, but his waning strength and damaged blade combined to rob the strike of any power and the dexterous rodent easily rolled away from the blow. Garrick desperately pulled another weapon and struck out wildly, failing to connect. Lew stepped up and swung his staff at the rat attacking the halfling. He struck it with a glancing blow, leaving a small mark, but not slowing the slavering rodent appreciably.

The rats surged forward, chittering and biting with their yellowed teeth. Rosë crumbled before their assault and dropped, bleeding from several wounds. The rat facing Garrick easily evaded the halfling's waving dagger and leaped through the halfling's guard, tearing a huge hunk of flesh from his shoulder. Garrick's world darkened as the halfling fell heavily to the floor. "Boy those are big teeth," he thought to himself as he passed out from blood loss.

Lew, suddenly facing four vicious rodents with only a staff and a thin robe to keep them at bay, stepped back and sent a fervent prayer to _Osirian_, praying for the Lightbringer to grant him Sanctuary from his enemies until help arrivet. Three of the rats lose interest in Lew, but the fourth shook its head after a momentary pause, sending saliva and foam flying, then narrowed its already beady eyes and continued forward, nipping the cleric on the leg.

Lew scrambled back across the pit, without the aid the guide rope (which is still attached to Rowan), just as Rowan heaved himself from the pit, pulling his trusty shortsword and assuming a defensive stance. On the other side, Lew hefted several fist-sized rocks and prepared to hurl them at the rats.

Despite his significant defensive abilities, Rowan's contest with the rats was an unequal one. The wily rodents, working as a team, managed to get past the ranger's guard numerous times, opening small wounds on his calf, forearm and hand. Lew, separated by the pit from his friend, hurled stone after stone, to little effect. One emboldened rodent tried to flank Rowan and the ranger's shortsword flashed down, cleaving it in twain!

Soon, however, the remaining rats leave Rowan staggering and Lew attemped to re-cross the pit to aid the ranger. Halfway there, in a replay of Marcus Tiro's ill-fated crossing, Lew lost his balance and was swallowed by the pit. A moment later, a rat ducked under Rowan's blade and bit down hard on his shin. The weakened ranger, unable to fight off the waves of pain, slowly fell backward into the hole - disappearing into the murk.

*To Be Continued...*

*Next: Session 2 (Part Two) - From Bad to Worse*

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## Old One

*Session 2 (Part Two)*

*From Bad to Worse...*

The mantle of _Osirian_ himself must have been protecting Lew, for the cleric received fairly minor injuries from his swan dive into the pit - despite falling about 15 paces!

_(DM's Note: I rolled 3d6 for the falling damage and rolled 1, 1, 2 - I believe Lew had 5 hit points left - bringing him to 1 HP!)_

Rowan, the rope still tied around his waist, had his fall partially arrested by the length of hemp, but still struck the stone floor with enough force to be knocked unconscious. Lew called upon his last major miracle of _Osirian_ to aid Rowan and divine power surged through the ranger's body. Rowan sat up groggily and the two looked fearfully at each other through the dim light then looked upward, expecting to see the remaining rats coming down the rope after them.

After a few moments, no rats were forthcoming and the pair hurridly discussed what to do next. Lew determined that Marcus Tiro was still living - if only just - and Rowan was determined to get help or die trying. After a few moments to catch his breath, Rowan carefully climbed the rope, taking care to make as little noise as possible. After what seemed to be an eternity, he eased himself over the edge of the pit and is greeted by a horrible sight.

The three remaining rats were busy worrying the body of Garrick, now clearly dead. They have devoured most of the skin off his face and eyeless sockets stared unseeing towards the ceiling. Two were tearing into the soft abdomen, while one was burrowing through the neck. As Rowan stood, the bloody muzzle of the rodent at Garrick's neck rose and its beady gaze fell upon the ranger - their eyes locked for a moment - then Rowan dashed across the rails, pulling out his shortbow and nocking an arrow as he ran.

The rat chitterd angrily and started to follow, while the other two glanced up - cross at being disturbed from their feast and began to skitter towards Rowan as well. He fired a quick shot, grazing the lead rat, which quickly lunged forward and bit him, wounding him badly. Unfortunately, the rope was still secured to a cross-tie on the far side of the pit and tied securely around Rowan's midsection - preventing him from retreating any further. The remaining two rats began to scramble across the rail and the ranger's heart sank. Then, an amazing thing happend.

Perhaps it was the divine breath of _Osirian_, answering Rowan's earlier prayer or perhaps it was just plain dumb luck. Both of the trailing rats, like a synchronized acrobatic team, slipped from the twin rails at the same time and, claws scrabbling desperately, plummeted to the stone floor below with two sickening thuds. The falling rodents barely missed the unconscious Marcus Tiro and the almost unconscious Lew.

That left Rowan, exhausted and barely able to keep from passing out, and one barely injured rat. Screaming incoherently, Rowan charged forward, surprising the rodent and driving it over the lip of the hole. As he followed it over the edge, the blackness took him as he mentally shouted, "At least I took one with me!" while falling to the floor below!

_(DM's Note: The rats had almost an automatic success chance to cross the pit, given their Climb Skill bonuses. Not only did they both slip and fall, they both blew Reflex Saves with substantial bonuses and got splatted. Marcus Tiro's player -Steve - commented, "If I hadn't seen you roll those in the open - I never would have believed it!"...another reason to make those open combat rolls, IMO. Also, see Rowan's note below...he was at "0" HPs, had one partial action before he passed out and did the last thing anyone expected...he charged! His "Bull Rush" knocked that ol' rat right into the pit and even cushioned his fall.)_

*To Be Continued...*

*Next: Session 2 (Part Three) - Death and Disaster!*

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## Old One

*Session 2 (Part Three)*

*Death and Disaster!*

Lew jumped out of his skin when yet another rat pancaked itself on the pit floor, followed immediately by Rowan. Again, the rope helped attenuate the ranger's descent, but he still landed with enough force to be knocked unconscious. Lew hurridly checked Rowan over, getting him stabilized and comfortable then slumped to the floor, exhausted. After a few moments, the shallow breathing of Marcus Tiro and Rowan - accompianied by the soft snores of the spent priest - were the only sounds that could be heard.

Lew awoke with a start, finding himself in total darkness. "Must have fallen asleep," he mumbled.

He could here Marcus Tiro and Rowan's breath, but had no idea what happened to Rosë and Garrick. He calmed himself and attempted to renew his spirit with the power of _Osirian_. The Lightbringer answered his call, filling him with holy might! Feeling around in the dark, he located what he thought to be Rowan's prone form and channeled the power into the ranger. He moved to Marcus Tiro and repeated. Soon, all three were up and about - but all were in very fragile condition.

Lew called up a minor orison to create a temporary light on Rowan's dagger pommel. The area around them finally illuminated, they found themselves in a rubble and dead rat strewn four-way juncture, with rough hewn passages leading off into different directions. They quietly discussed their options and Rowan informed the two of Garrick's fate. Marcus Tiro ducked his head to hide the tears welling from his eyes - Garrick was his oldest and dearest friend. He savagely kicked one of the rat corpses, cursing under his breath.

Rowan then attempted to climb out of the pit using the rope. He made it to the top, but part of the fractured ledge gave way as he climbed out and he hurtled downward, knocking himself unconsious as he re-connected with the hard floor. Lew offered him some comfort, but had no more major miracles to call upon. Lew decided to climb out next, he slowly and painfully made his way to the top.

Once there, he saw Garrick's small form - bloodied, half-eaten and frozen in death. Just beyond the dead halfling, he saw Rosë. Somehow, the barbarian's incredible constitution allowed him to survive! He was barely breathing and terribly wounded, but Lew judged him to be in no immediate danger. He loosened the rope from the cross-ties, carefully crossed the cart rails and threw the other end down to Marcus Tiro so he could start up.

_(DM Note: Rosë stabilized at -9. He could have gone to -11, based on his effective CON - see earlier note for house rule, but it was a VERY close thing.)_

Marcus Tiro began to climb. Near the top, the fighter's strength failed and he started to fall. Lew tried desperately to keep his friend from falling, but hadn't taken the time to tie the rope off to an immobile object. The rope tore the skin from his palms as it slides through his hands and Lew couldn't hold the heavier Marcus Tiro. Finally, the rope slipped from his grasp and Marcus Tiro plummeted to the bottom of the pit, striking at a terrible angle. Lew heard the dry snap of breaking bones and Marcus Tiro did not answer his frantic calls.

Lew stood, trembling, with tears streaming down his face. He looked at Garrick's pitiful form and Rosë's beyond that. His mind whirled and only one thought cut its way through his clouded brain, "Father Thomas...I must get Father Thomas!"

Lew turned and fled from the abandoned mine. He stumbled outside and found that it was dark and there was a soft rain falling. Frantic and badly injured, he raced the league back to Glynden as fast as his aching legs would carry him.

_(DM's Note: IMC a league is 3 miles/5 kms.)_

Behind him, in the dank darkness of the pit, an ever-widening pool of blood spread from the fracture point on the left side of Marcus Tiro's head. Three turns of the minute glass after Lew exited the mine, Marcus Tiro found himself surrounded by mist. He saw a faint light at the end of the mist and moved towards it. In a nimbus of golden-white light, he found Garrick seated atop an enourmous cask. The halfling, smiling beatifically, thrust a foaming flagon of ale towards the confused warrior, "Welcome home, my friend!"

_(DM's Note: Yes, it is sad but true, Garrick and Marcus Tiro, childhood friends, met an ingnominious end at the hand of four rats and a hole...)_

The aftermath of the sordid affair was somber and sad. Lew was able to secure assistence and by mid-morning, in the midst of a desultory downpour, the living (Rowan and Rosë) and the dead (Marcus Tiro and Garrick) had been recovered from the mine. The children still had not been found and to add insult to injury - by nightfall - all the survivors where shaking from the alternate fever and chills of the "Rat Fever".

Adding to the gloom was news that the _Swords of Glynden_, with half-a-dozen retainers, had met and defeated a large gnoll band - taking 10 heads. They returned to the town muddy and bloody, but triumphant. Soon they were at Nan's, buying drinks for everyone and boasting of their exploits - bloody gnoll heads lining the bar. Soon a raucuous crowd was gathered and the loss of Marcus Tiro and Garrick was forgotten by all but a few.

Lew, Rowan and Rosë lay in their sick beds, trying desperately to block the noise of merriment floating in from the tavern. Father Thomas placed his quill on his writing desk, pausing his work on the eulogy for the burial service, and shook his head sadly. Two of the gate guards, pulling their cloaks tight against the wind and the rain, talked quietly about the strength and loyalty of Marcus Tiro. And over in the tavern, a human woman, large and dumpy, stood at the corner of her bar and wept silent tears for the diminutive halfling she had cared for over nine winters.

The funeral service the next day...ironically Festday...was a quiet and joyless affair. Father Thomas' eulogy was smple, yet forceful, concentrating on duty and sacrifice. Several others stood afterward to praise the pair and while Lew was speaking, a well-dressed young man stood at the back of the sanctuary and intoned in a steady voice, "And what of my cousins? They are still lost out there in the mines. They are innocent and blameless. Will those that sought them before now assist my brother and I in finding them?"

Lew's words faltered and he sat down, flustered. Rowan cast an angry look towards the young man, known to him as a miner from "Boss" Brathwaite's operation, but remained silent. Rosë regarded him skeptically. "Perhaps now is not the best time to speak of this, " Father Thomas said gently, "let us wait until after the service."

"Very well," the young man replied impatiently, "but every moment we do nothing, their chances for survival grow slimmer...do you want these two to have died in vain?"

Father Thomas turned away, completed the _Rite of the Dead_ and led a small procession of clergy and lay brothers out of the Abbey and into the burial catacombs. Rowan quickly left the Abbey, brushing past the young man who tried to speak with him. Rosë grunted non-commitally when approached, mumbeling that he was off to the tavern to hoist an ale to his old friends. The exasperated youth waited until Father Thomas returned and entreated the cleric to order Lew to help him!

"That I cannot do, my son. I feel that your urgency is well-placed and that it has merit. Lew must make his own choice on this however. Place your trust in _Osirian_ that all will happen as it is meant to."

Somewhat mollified, the young man departed the Abbey, seeking Rosë in the tavern. He found the barbarian quizzing miners about the best way to cross cave-ins, what kind of equipment is most useful in the mines and how best to avoid a repeat of the disaster that was visited upon the party. He strode up to Rosë and placed a bulging pouch on the table in front of him. Several denarii leaked out.

"My name is Quintus Scipio. There are over 700 denarii in this pouch - more than enough to purchase all of the equipment we will need. My brother and I tend to retrieve our cousins on the morrow. Your woodsman has run away and your priest is a coward, but I am told that the people of the tribes are without fear...will you at least help us?"

Rosë looked from Quintus to the money and back again, then nodded his head in agreement. "Very well, then, we will gather in front of the tavern at the seventh hour." With that, Quintus turned away and marched puposefully from the tavern. Meanwhile, Rowan stumbled to his mother's cottage and collapsed on a stool near her hearth - his breath came in great, ragged gasps and shuddering sobs soon wracked his body. His grey-haired mother stepped close and embraced her grieving son, saying nothing. After nearly an hour, the sobs subsided. Rowan gathered a few things, hugged his mother, and disappeared into the night.

Lew, eyes puffy, heart and head aching, sought the counsel of Father Thomas. He spoke in hushed tones of the guilt he felt - saying he was not worthy of _Osirian's_ gifts. Father Thomas let him speak on for some time, then put his hand on the younger priest's shoulder. 

"Lew, my friend, the ways of the Lightbringer are not always clear, even for us. I cannot tell you why your friends have been taken," he said gently. "The young man who spoke out-of-turn today, Quintis, I believe his name is - has asked me to order you to assist him in finding the lost youngsters. Although it is within my power to order this, I will not do so. You must search your own heart and decide this on your own. I trust that you will make the right decision."

Lew nodded, quietly thanked Father Thomas and departed, walking towards his own sleeping chamber. In the corridor, he almost bumped into Rosë without noticing him. The hulking barbarian youth was leaning against the wall in the shadows.

"Friend Lightman," he said in heavily accented Tradespeak, "I go tomorrow to help the Quintus-man and his brother. I may need your light-power...will you come?"

Lew looked into the guileless eyes of the barbarian and nodded. "When and where?"

"The seven hour," Rosë grunted. Before turning away, the barbarian laid a hand on Lew's arm. "It is good!"

With that, he strode away, and Lew couldn't find his bed soon enough!

The next morning, Quintus was suprised to see Lew arrive along with Rosë. After an awkward silence, Quintus said, "I must apologize for my hasty words yesterday and the tone in which I spoke them. It is just that I fear for my young cousins and you are the only ones that have any idea where they may be!" 

Quintus then introduced him to his brother, Sextus, a small man with a booming voice, whose fingers played idly with a hand-harp.

Lew grasciously accepted the apology and they set about the task at hand. Unfortunately, it was Restday - and many merchants shops were not open (also, many merchants had spent the night drinking at Nan's tavern). Through Lew and Quintus' persuasiveness, Rosë's icy glare and Sextus' quips they soon had all of the equipment they needed, albeit at a stiff mark-up for the merchants' trouble.

They departed Glynden - laden with ropes, spikes, hammers, boards, poles and all manner of mining goods - making for the mine with all possible haste. As they neared it, they found a deep furrow in the ground that ran through the mine trace and into the mine. They suspiciously readied their weapons and cautiously entered the mine, lighting two lanterns as they did so. They found a muddy track, matching the outside furrow, which headed down the central mine shaft, along the cart track.

Advancing with trepidation, they soon came to the pit, which now had a large, muddy log place across it and lashed into place. The group looked around, puzzled, shrugged their shoulders and proceeded to take the next three-quarters of an hour to build a sturdy bridge over the pit. Rowan appeared on the far side about five turns of the minute glass after they started pounding spikes into the wall. He shook his head, motioned them to follow him and disappeared into the gloom.

"Sturdy as the bridge of an Emorian legion!" Sextus boomed. The group shared a laugh and continued forward. After half-a-hundred paces, they found Rowan standing on the far side of a large chamber. They moved to join him and he greeted them silently, pointing to a leather doll, stuffed with cloth, laying on the floor. Quintus bent and retrieved the doll. "It is my cousin's," he said, "let us search the area!"

After half-an-hour of fruitless searching, Rowan discovered a small slot, angling upward under an overhanging stone. He inserted his dagger into, wiggled it about and was rewarded with an audible "click". Slowly, a section of the wall slid back on oiled runners, revealing a narrow, damp passage. He motioned the group to follow him, saying nary a word and moved quickly away.

The party moved through the twisting, turning passage for some time. It seemed to be older than the mine, to their untrained eyes. Water ran down the walls in places, leaving a slimy trail and puddled on the floor. Rowan found one clear footprint in the muck, a man-sized boot print - heading forward. They went down several sets of rough-hewn stairs, then came to small chamber that was littered with rocks and rubble. They could see several fault lines in the ceiling and no exits from the room.

They carefully searched the walls of the chamber for close to an hour, but found nothing. Quintus, Sextus and Lew debated backtracking to see if they had missed something. Suddenly, Rowan dropped to one knee and began sweeping rocks aside on the floor. Quintus and Sextus looked at each other - then dropped to do the same. They soon discovered a patch of floor where the rocks did not move!

On closer inspection, the found a slot similar to the other one and determined that there was some type of trap door in the floor. Rowan repeated his earlier dagger trick and a section of the floor slid away, revealing an iron rung ladder heading down. After a quick decent, the band found themselves standing in fairly well finished corridor - maybe not Khazardyn craftsmanship - but definitely not rough-hewn.

By their lantern-light, they saw what appeared to be the beginnings of a chamber about 10 paces away and a door beyond that. They started forward cautiously and Rowan peaked into the room. His keen ears caught it first, the creaking sound of dry sinew rubbing across even drier bone. From the four corners of the room, Rowan saw skeletal warriors, clad in rotted armor, swivel their red-eyed gaze in his direction, raising bows nocked with bone arrows.

Rowan frantically motions to the rest of the party to get back into the hallway and flattens himself against the passage wall, drawing his shortsword...

*To Be Continued...*


*Next: Session 3 (Part One) - How Many Skeletons in the Closet + Meet Quintus and Sextus Scipio, our latest victims, er...party members!*

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## Old One

*Interlude - Garrick's Log + Quintus' Intro*

Greetings All!

Corey, player of the recently deceased Garrick has written a great tongue-in-cheek tale of his demise! Here it is in its entirety. If you enjoy it, please post a little note to encourge Corey for future writings !

Enjoy!

*Garrick's Tale*

_Greetings, I am Garrick. I'm dead now, but not long ago I was an orphaned halfling living in a town called Glyndyn. I liked being alive, but this afterlife place is pretty interesting too. Plus, now I know what happened to my parents and the adventuring group that left me in Glyndyn with promises of coming back for me.

Since I'm new to the realms of those who have passed, I have not met too many people, though my good friend Marcus Tiro arrived shortly after I did. Since he was practicing with the new weapons they gave him, I decided to find Corey and keep him company.

The deity Osirian assigned Corey to be my "Player" and watch over me. I think that was really nice of them. Apparently though, he did not do a very good job since I'm dead and he has to spend all of his time reading big books. With titles like *'Remedial Dungeon Exploring for Profoundly Clumsy Players Who Get Their First Level Charges Killed'* I can understand why he seems so unhappy all the time.

When I found him today he was once again hunched over his book at a table. Coming up behind him I said, "Greetings, Did I tell you how I died?"

His shoulders seemed to tense. I guess he still feels bad about it. However, he did not look up, rather his face seemed to press closer to the text as if his eyesight was getting poor. His hands also went to his ears. I suppose all that quiet study would make my head hurt too.

I figured he needed some cheering up, so I hopped up on the table next to him and, to make myself more comfortable went to kick off my shoes, but of course they were not there. Here in the afterlife we don't wear shoes - clouds are not hard and do not have any sharp edges.

I tapped his head, right on the spot where his hair is the thinnest. Now he looked up. I smiled, a big white toothed display that I was always proud of. As usual, he wore that serious almost frown. The set of his mouth always makes me think he has something to say, but is pressing his lips together to stop the words from pouring out. 

After a moment he said, "Yes, Garrick you told me this morning."

Excellent I thought. "Well I thought of some more details, you know to give it flair when I tell everyone. Let me tell you again."

Corey's shoulders sagged. His lips moved once or twice. "Fine," he said.

If you ask me that word had to force its way, all fangs and claws, past those tight lips. Poor guy, needs to relax more and read less.

"Okay, there we were in the mine traces west of Glyndyn looking for two kids who had disappeared. My friend Lew, actually its Gandelwyn but who can say that in one breathe, had just splattered some spiders. He is one of Osirian's acolytes you know."

"You don't say," Corey replied. He is an uptight audience, but I like it when he responds to what I say. It makes the story more interactive.

"I do," I continued. "Anyway, its strange that he did all the smashing, I mean Marcus Tiro and Rowan were there too, and they train with swords everyday day. So I went into this room where the spiders had come from and looked around. It was boring stuff, picks and shovels packed in crates. But I did find a couple of lanterns. That was nice since we were about to run out of torches and boy does it get dark in those caves. I mean total pitch black, like wave you hand in front of your face and..."

"So you lit the lanterns?" Corey said. I liked that, showed he was listening to the details.

"Yep, and we were going to keep going down this corridor when a banshee started calling my name from behind us."

"That was not a banshee," Corey said, "It was the barbarian Rose at the mines entrance looking for you."

"Oh please, do you think he would just wander into some haunted mine and start yelling like he owns the place? I'm telling you it was a banshee and it wanted to suck my brain through my eye sockets, but Rose scared it off."

Corey said, "Very commendable." His tone was still not like my friends back in the tavern when we were having fun. It was very dry, like he needed water- or a personality. I figured that this was a great story and was now really convinced that he needed to hear it.

"So we went back and got met up with Rose. He had been sick for a long time and still looked a little... you know... gross. But he's really tall and has red hair. No banshee would feel safe around him.

"After meeting with Rose we decided to try another corridor. The mine entrance had three tunnels driving into the hill sort of like a W. We had been trying the corridor on the right and the left-hand corridor was all blocked. The corridor up the middle seemed the best choice, plus it had tracks laid for the miners to roll their carts on.

"Well Rowan, he spends a lot of time in the woods, went first. I tried to stay close to Lew and the barbarian since creepy things had already attacked us and I'm the right size for a good snack."

"We went a ways and then came to a spot where the tracks went over a big hole in the ground. It was wide and there was no way to get around it so everyone suddenly decided they were an engineer and offered ways to cross over. It reminded me of a game Marcus Tiro and I used to play. We could not afford toys like the other kids so we had to make do with what we could find in the street. We always used to take planks and lay them out and balance on them. Marcus always fell, but I was pretty good."

"So while they are discussing it, I hopped up on the tracks and started to walk across. Rowan got all testy, so I went back and let him tie a rope around my waist. Then I started to cross again. Somebody, maybe Marcus Tiro, asked me how deep the hole was. Well, I worked up some spit and lobbed it down the hole but it hit the bottom maybe eight *(DM - actually 15)* paces down. That's boring. You know in the heroic stories its always a little more impressive than that. I told them it was bottomless just to add to the effect of my bravely crossing it."

"Rose and Lew came across after me. I figured I'd be safe with them around, but just in case I took out my crossbow. Of course, when Marcus Tiro got to the hole he made a big show of tying knots and looping rope so that he would not fall in. I was just about to make a comment on how silly he looked when I saw the red eyes. At first I figured it was that pesky banshee again but then I remembered seeing such orbs before."

"I yelled 'RATS' and shot a bolt. I think Lew nudged my elbow or something because my bolt smacked into the tunnel's ceiling. Lew's a nice guy, but when he gets here I'm going to have to tell him that was not the time to be joking around. A halfling could get hurt?"

"You did," Corey said.

"Did what?"

"Get hurt."

"Hurt. I got killed. Made dead, finished off, turned into rat bait, bought the farm? have you been listening?"

"Sure, the rats?"

"Yea, the rats. This is the part where I get confused. First, I figured Marcus Tiro would run across the tracks and wham bam, no more rats. Instead, he's back there screaming, I don't know about what but it was not his usual 'Garrick, I'm charging so get out of the way' noise."

"Second, Rowan's normal hail of arrows did not come."

"Third, Rose attacked the cave wall instead of the rats. Gosh, that wall must have really upset him. I mean you should have seen the massive blow. He got so much of his weight behind it that his sword tip bent."

"There were four rats. They went after Rose and I. The three kitten looking ones went after him and the biggest, meanest one in the bunch, all yellow fangs and growls, came right for me."

"Rose started doing some barbarian dance, swinging his bent sword all around. I think he was summoning some avenging spirit to protect him. It was impressive, his sword flashing around not touching one of the rats. There was more rat than air around him but still he managed not to touch them once."

"So anyway, I'm left to deal with Man-Gore, the undefeated champion of all rats. Do you like the name? I added it for zest. Lew rapped the slavering pit-bred monster with his staff. It snarled and growled at him and its eyes glowed bright red in hate. I'm sure that it was a demon in rat form."

"I figured on sending the devil rat back to the fires of the underworld so I pulled out one of my daggers. I slashed down with a powerful blow but some stinking fairy knocked my blade aside. Everybody likes to use the halfling for their jokes, you know what I mean? My knife smacked right into the tunnel floor and shattered. I never did like fairies."

"I looked at the rat summoned from another world, trying to figure if I had enough time to get another dagger out. By my calculations I did not since he jumped up and bit me. It hurt a lot. But you know demon's teeth inject fire into you, so it was okay that I screamed. I remember thinking 'big teeth' and then he bit me again."

Corey looked upset again. What could he have done? I mean, I was up against Man-Gore, the pit-bred demon from another plane champion of all rats. Who do you think was going to win?

He turned away from me and snatched two books. On one cover I saw *'Exorcising Evil Pool Tables that are Biased in Favor of the DM.'* On the other *'Dice for Idiots: its about rolling something higher than a three, stupid.'*

Wow, they must really be mad at him. I could not even understand those titles. Deciding that it is pretty boring watching him read two books at once, I hopped off the table. I found a cask of ale locked inside a big vault and went looking for Marcus Tiro. First, we'll find some comfortable cloud. Then we will spend the rest of our day making it rain on the Swords of Glyndyn and watching our friends rescue those missing kids.

*~ Garrick*_

Thus ends the tale of Garrick - a brave halfling and good fried!  Lot's of great plot-hooks died with him!

*Quintus' Journal*

_I do not know what response I expected after interrupting a funeral and calling for brave souls to help find my cousins. Certainly, more enthusiasm than I initially received. Perhaps the sacrifice of Marcus Tiro and Garrick has paralyzed the community with gloom. If that is the case, it did not show in the Azrael-Arhiman inspired festival that broke out after the return of the *Swords of Glyndyn*.

My personal frustration was probably an influencing factor. Who responds well to a hostile stranger pleading for aid? For certain, Kyndalyn the Older would. His son as well. The siege on Glyndyn's collective soul, starting thirty years ago with the Emorian Legion's evacuation, is taking is toll on the town's spirit. We are becoming more selfish, less willing to sacrifice.

Enough. The last few days are taking their toll on my spirit as well.

Of the group who initially sought my cousins, I was immediately able to convince the Barbarian to continue the search. The presence of denarri helped. He deserves credit for not taking it from me in payment. I found Gandlewyn truly surprising. Upon reflecting, I realize a night alone in a haunted mine surrounded by dead and wounded comrades is a trying experience at best. Yesterday though, I called him a coward. 

I was wrong about Rowan, I assume I am wrong about Gandlewyn. Rowan, who stalked into the forest after the funeral, ignored my calls. But finding him in the mines, proceeding alone with the search for my cousins, inspired me. I owe him both an apology and thanks.

After gathering my things and getting Sextus from the house, I met with the barbarian and Gandelwyn outside Nan's. After discussing our equipment needs, we set about making our purchases. The money was sorely needed at home, but it would cut into my soul spending it on my needs and neglecting two children who are dear to me.

We then quickly went to the mine, finding odd tracks and smears in the mud outside. Inside, we decided to convert the tracks over the hole into a bridge. These noisy proceedings are what attracted Rowan's attention from his place further in the mine. 

Upon joining up with him, he handed me Wynda's doll. This place is disturbing to me; it must be a horror for a child. Rowan is refusing to speak, a further sign that he is honoring this quest with the utmost intensity. I am considering introducing him to my sister Maxima. Unlike Sebrina, she is pious and industrious. I will discuss the issue with Sextus.

The mine apparently dead-ended. I think we all found this questionable. Searching revealed a hidden opening. Four years in Braithwaite's pit and I have never seen such a thing. This led us down into an area where the place stopped looking like a mine and took on another nature. All agreed on proceeding. I think finding the doll has given us hope.

Further down, we hit another dead-end. This one containing another hidden door concealed under a false cave-in. Roget Crow, my mining team's leader, would be slapping his head in frustration if we slowed down and started trying to craft such works. That someone is hiding something is obvious.

We continued down.

The barbarian and Gandlewyn had told Sextus and I of their encounter with the undead in this mine. Abrigal taught me something of a cantrip to damage these infernal creatures. I never thought I would have any cause to use this skill.

That changed coming into a large room in the mine. There, imposing themselves between my hopes of rescuing my cousins and I, were a pack of animated skeletons. As we scrambled deal with them, they were nocking arrows.

*~ Quintus Scipio*_

_(DM's Note: Everyone show Corey how much you appreciate his excellent effort by posting glowing praise here...hint, hint!)_


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## Old One

*Session 3 (Part One)*

When we last left our intrepid band, they had buried two of their own and met two new companions, the Bros. Scipio - Quintus and Sextus. Venturing back into the mines, they discovered a hidden tunnel, then a hidden ladder leading down to a fairly well-carved chamber. Cautiously entering the chamber, they were confronted by four skeletal archers with glowing crimson eyes who raised decrepit short bows and prepared to launch bone arrows at our heros...

*Session 3 (Part One) - How Many Skeletons in the Closet?*

Recoiling from the sight of the skeletons, Rowan, thinking quickly, reached back through the ranks and grabed Lew, hauling the priest forward to where he could see at least some of the skeletons. As the rest of the party jostled for position, two of the skeletons launched arrows into the tightly packed group, but they shattered harmlessly on the wall.

Lew presented his holy symbol and called for the power of _Osirian_ to rid the them of the skeletons. A shimmering wave of bluish-white light rolled forward from Lew and two of the skeletons turned and cowered in the far corners of the room.

_(DM's Note: Lew could only see 2 of the 4 skeletons, his view of the other 2 was blocked by walls, due to their location. Therefore they had "full cover" and were immune to his turning effects.)_

With that, Rosë rushed into the room to engage one of the remaining skeletons. He suffered a bone arrow in the back, causing a minor wound from one and then the skeleton he moved to engage attempted to fire at him from point-blank range. He lashed out with his sword, knocking some bone chips from its shoulder and spoiling its aim. Sextus raised his crossbow excitedly to fire at one of the cowering skeletons and promptly fired a bolt into the floor in the middle of the room. 

_(DM's Note: Rolled a "1", no fumble.)_

Quintus surveyed the scene and bided his time.

Rowan slipped around the corner and engaged the skeleton that shot Rosë in the back, drawing a point-blank shot of his own, which he deftly avoided. His return blow sent pieces of bone flying and staggered the skeleton. Rosë hacked away at his skeleton as it again attempted to fire an arrow, but it managed to avoid both that blow and his follow-up attack. Sextus re-loaded his crossbow and, overcompensating for sending a bolt into the floor on his previous shot, sent one into the ceiling instead. 

_(DM Note: Another "1", no fumble.)_

Lew continued to present his holy symbol and Quintus prepared to cast a magic missile at anything that might come out of to door.

Rosë and Rowan both sent their opponents tumbling into a heap of cracked bones and both moved to engage one of cowering skeletons. Sextus, remembering that he failed to "tune-up" his crossbow before setting out, spent the next few moments adjusting the sights and tightening the prod, mumbling angrily to himself. Both Quintus and Lew slowly advanced to the center of the chamber, warily eyeing the door.

As Rowan and Rosë ganged up on one of the skeletons, Sextus re-loaded and fire once more at the unengaged skeleton. The bolt clipped through the ribcage, damaging it slightly and he grinned in satisfaction. Just then, a previously unseen slot, about eye height, slid open in the door and a quavering voice called out, "W-w-what do you t-t-think you are d-d-doing? S-s-stop this at o-o-once - m-m-my m-m-mistress will be very d-d-displeased!"

Thinking quickly, Quintus replied, "Your mistress will be even more displeased that your incompetent guardians have assaulted us! Cease this attack at once and open the door immediately - I command you!"

Rowan sent the skeleton he and Rosë were facing flying into a dozen different pieces with a powerful blow and Rosë, not missing a beat, curled around Rowan and ran at the door, leaping into the air and attempting to kick the door open. Unfortunately, he struck only a glancing blow and the door refused to yield. Rosë, meanwhile suffered a "stinger" to his foot and dropped to one knee, cursing.

The stuttering voice called out again, "F-f-for the l-l-last t-t-time, y-y-you b-b-better c-c-cut it out a-a-and g-g-go away!"

Quintus, continuing his banter, moved up to stand beside the door, "And for the last time, cease this attack at once and let us in or your mistress will go hard on you!"

Sextus follows his brother's remark with a booming pronouncement, "Fool! Do you know who you are dealing with?! Quintus Necromantus, Black Lord of the Northern Wastes, Warlord of the Skeleton Hordes, the one the gnolls call He Who Drinks From Skulls, he who has played chess with the demons from the pit ... "

_(DM's Note: I don't have the actual text for what Sextus said, but that was the general gist, it was very well done and we all busted up after he said it. If Steve, Sextus' player, has it all written down, I will post it later...I have updated to correct quote above.)_

Everyone paused for a moment and looked at Sextus in suprise!

Lew saw what appeared to be the head of a large, dark-colored bird poke through the slot, look left, right and straight ahead, then withdraw quickly.

The voice issued forth again, "Y-y-you were w-w-warned!"

Quintus heard low chanting on the other side of the door and recognized the incantation as one designed to create great fear in those affected. Across the room, Sextus felt a wave of momentary panic wash over accompianied by an overwhelming desire to flee the area. With great effort, he steeled himself mentally and shook the feeling off. Quintus stepped directly in front of the door and sent a magic missile screaming through the slot, right between the two eyes he saw dimly through the opening.

"O-o-o-o-w-w-w-w!" came a pained retort and the slot slammed shut.

Rowan moved to engage the last remaining skeleton while Rosë backed up a few paces, gathered himself, dropped his shoulder and ran full-tilt into the door. The iron-bound wooden door proved to be tougher than the barbarian, who stumbled backwards on wobbly legs, then sat down heavily, shaking his head. Quintus, listening intently at the door, heard some muffled curses and a "cawing" sound, then silence.

While Rowan finished off the remaining skeleton, Rosë staggered to his pack and retrieved a large sledge that was strapped to the frame. Motioning everyone to get out of the way, he charged forward and visciously assaulted the door. After several minutes, the fiendish door gave way to the barbarian's relentless attack and the top hinge broke away, sending the door crashing open and hanging drunkenly on its one remaining hinge.

The band quickly advanced into the next room, finding a large chamber with six stone sarcophagai, a small pile of bones and another stout door on the far side of the chamber. A cursory search of the room showed no signs of habitation - living or otherwise - so they continued forward to the next door. Sextus attempted to slide the slot in this door open, to no avail, so Rosë shouldered him aside and started swinging with his sledge again. Quintus readied another spell and waited.

After several mighty strokes, the slot slid open. A crackling beam of greenish-black energy issued forth, striking Rosë full in the chest and bathing him in an sickly green light. He gritted his teeth and fought through the chilling power that attempted to sap his strength. With a mighty heave of his shoulders, he shattered the effect and continued to swing the sledge. Both Quintus and Sextus identified the magic as that designed to steal the victim's strength. 

Quintus stepped forward and spoke another command word before the slot closed, attempting to render their as yet unseen adversary unconscious. He heard cursing from the other side of the door and assumed that his own spell had been unsuccessful.

Sextus and Rowan readied their crossbow and short bow, respectively as the door began to sag under Rosë's blows. The door finally tore lose from its hinges and crashed to the floor with a resounding boom that echoed through the chamber. Flickering lamplight revealed a long narrow chamber with a door at the far end. In front of the door stood a tall, lanky figure in dark gray robes, a belt made of large metal rings with numerous pouches dangling from it and pointy-toed slippers. Several paces in front of him, to either side, were a pair of skeletal archers, which launched bone arrows through the doorway at Rosë. Like a swarm of angry hornets, the arrows buzzed towards the barbarian. Amazingly, they all failed to find their mark!

Low moaning on either side of the doorway betrayed the presence of undead miners, complete with rotting flesh, glowing crimson eyes and heavy pickaxes. They crowded into the doorway in an attempt to overwhelm Rosë, who quickly discarded the sledge and drew his blade.

Rowan stepped back and sent an arrow winging towards the shadowy figure, it went wide and shattered against the wall. Sextus fired quickly, sending a bolt into the door frame. Quintus gathered his will and sent forth another spell, determined to rid them of the spellcaster. Again the enemy mage resisted the effects of his sleep spell. Quintus cursed and readied his crossbow. Rosë stepped forward and cleaved into one of the zombies with all of his strength, sword slicing through collarbone, lung and heart before coming to rest on the sternum. The blow drove the undead miner to it's knees, but the unholy magic that knit the creature together did not fail and it climbed back to its feet, moaning loudly.

Rosë was stunned for a moment, since his blow was struck with enough force to fell two ordinary warriors!

Lew manuevered to where he could see the four zombies and a pair of the archers. He reached deep within himself and called upon _Osirian_ for his greatest miracle, focusing his holy power to completely destroy the unnatural undead creatures. A wave of blue-white light rolled forward. It washed over the zombies and coninued on, engulfing the two skeletal archers, which flared brightly and exploded into fine ash. The glow around the undead miners, however, sputtered and disappated, leaving them unharmed!

The undead miners pushed forward, pickaxes swinging. One struck Rosë with a crushing blow, battering through his defense and injuring him seriously, although he avoided several other blows. Sextus and Quintus both fired crossbow bolts into the mass of zombies, striking true, but failing to slow them down. A pencil-thin beam of ice shot from the upraised hand of the figure in gray, narrowly missing Rosë and Rowan launched another arrow toward the figure, determined to bring it down. His shaft again went wide.

Lew dodged around the melee and moved to support Rosë, calling upon the might of _Osirian_ and channeling the power of the Lightbringer into his friend, partially healing his grave wound. Somewhat refreshed, the barbarian's blade flashed forward again, tearing through the damaged zombie and sending it crashing to the floor.

The remaining ones swarmed forward, however. A vicious swipe tore into Sextus' chest and he dropped to the floor, bleeding profusly. Rosë was struck by another powerful blow and barely maintained his feet. He gritted his teeth and raised his sword again. Quintus dropped to one knee beside his brother and desperately tried to stem the flow of blood from his brother's wound, to no avail. Lew, now able to see the other two skeletal archers, along with the three remaining zombies, called forth the power of _Osirian_ once more. This time, his prayer was answered completely and the zombies and undead archers all turned to flee. Rosë struck one as it fled past him, staggering it but failing to bring it down. The shadowy figure opensed the door behind him and started fumbling around in one of his many pouches.

Rowan sighted carefully over the heads of the fleeing zombies, took a deep breath and loosed. His blue-fletched shaft flew true this time and buried itself in the gray-robed figure, just below the breastbone. The enemy spellcaster flew backwards into the chamber beyond and landed with a meaty "thud". The slippered feet twitched once and were still.

_(DM's Note: Rowan rolled a critical and hit for almost max damage!)_

Lew dropped to the ground beside Quintus and said, "Let me show you how this is done!" He quickly patched up Sextus and stopped the bleeding. 

Assured that his brother was out of immediate danger, Quintus followed Rowan and Rosë into the chamber. The latter two quickly cornered the cowering skeletons and battered them to pieces. The zombies, appartently, had disappeared through the open doorway. The trio find themselves in some type of workshop.

There are several large casks, a huge chest, a long work table with all manner of beakers, glass containers, mortar and pestel, jars with various colored powders and other sundry items stacked upon the workbench. Two closed doors are in the side walls of the room and a heavy brown curtain was drawn across an opening in the far corner. A large brazier burned in a near corner, lighting most of the room.

After a hasty conference, the group decided to withdraw. Rosë drug the body of the fallen spellcaster from the doorway, leaving a broad smear of blood across the labratory chamber enroute to the sarcophagai room. Quintus hefted the chest and followed, while Rowan acted as a rearguard. Meanwhile, Lew expended several minor miracles to get Sextus back on his feet. They quickly searched the dead body, stripping off the metal belt, from which hung six pouches - they find nothing else.

Dragging the large chest behind them, they retreated all the way to the mine entrance before halting and examining the chest. Several well-placed blows by Rosë opened it, revealing four velvet lined trays, but otherwise empty. Quintus surmised that it was used to transport the lab materials. 

They quickly decided that Lew would accompany the badly injured Sextus and Rosë back to town to tell Kyndalyn and Father Thomas what they have found and seek additional medical help, while Quintus and Rowan kept watch on the mine entrance. The two that remained behind found a good vantage point while Lew, Rosë and Sextus departed for the hour-long journey back to town.

The trio arrived just before Evening Vespers and the closing of the gate. Even though it was Restday, the streets are nearly deserted. They went to the Abbey and discovered that Father Thomas was not there. Drusan, one of the Aspirants, told them that almost the entire town was at a meeting in the Council Hall.

They made their way there and found several hundred people crammed into the hall - standing room only! Rosë received several dark looks as they pushed their way inside and the reason soon became apparent. Kyndalyn the Younger was telling the gathering that several large barbarian warbands had crossed the river, heading East, and Glynden seemed to be their target. He implored the people to return to their homes and prepare for the defense of the town, as the barbarians were no more than three days away!

Sextus, Lew and Rosë looked at one another in dismay! What of Quintus and Rowan?

*To Be Continued...*

*Next: Session 3 (Part Two) - Another Hole and a Zombie*

Old One


----------



## Old One

*Session 3 (Part Two)*

*Another Hole and A Zombie...*

Lew and Sextus pressed through the throng rapidly exiting the Council Hall to speak with Father Thomas. They passed a grim-faced Calian Cassuvius, surrounded by armed retainers and hustling out. Rosë decided he was hungry and headed over to Nan's Tavern for some roast mutton and an ale. Finding the door locked, he sat down, back against the wall, and waited.

As they neared Father Thomas, Sextus heard a sharp whisper in his ear, "Where is your damnable brother, Scipio? He and I aren't done yet...you tell him that I am looking for him!"

Sextus turned to see the pock-marked face of Ned Gallway, the lanky overseer of the Braithwaite Mining Company, leering down at him. "He's still out looking for the missing kids," Sextus replied evenly, returning Ned's gaze. "I will see that he gets the message."

"You do that," Ned sneered, before he turned away and disappeared into the thining crowd.

"What was that all about?" Lew inquired.

"Oh nothing, just a little family business," Sextus replied, a wane smile touching the corner of his mouth. "There's Father Thomas."

They quickly briefed Father Thomas on their findings thus far. He stopped them when they started talking about the skeletal archers and zombie miners - suggesting they retire to somewhere more private. Several turns of the minute glass later, they were comfortably seated in his small study. He sent an aspirant to fetch Rosë and listened with growing alarm to their tale of undead and associated magic users. 

When Rosë showed up, Father Thomas called upon the miracles of _Osirian_ to return he and Sextus to full health. He encouraged them to rest, then return to the newly-discovered complex and continue searching. He also provided them with a small wooden box that contained three healing draughts and three vials of water blessed by _Osirian_, which he indicated could be helpful against undead creatures. With that, he excused himself, saying Kyndalyn was expecting him, and departed.

The trio stopped by the tavern for a late meal, found it nearly deserted, and retired. Sextus' sisters and mother, alarmed at his blood-covered clothes, quizzed him until early in the morning about his adventures. Sextus also discovered that Abrigail, Quintus' "friend" had stopped by looking for him earlier in the evening.

The next day dawned chilly, with a fair amount of low-laying mist. They trooped out of town at first light and met back up with Quintus and Rowan, who had spent an uneventful evening watching the mine entrance. The only thing they had seen was a large, dark-colored bird that exited the mine just before dark and flown North. Quintus had searched the dead mage's pouches and discovered various spell components, a large sum of solidii and denarii, along with a strange golden amulet. It was about twice the size of a solidus, with a skull and dagger imprinted on it, along with some runic script. Quintus, Lew and Sextus all attempted to decipher the script - with no luck.

They ventured back through the mine, the secret passage and into the carved out chambers. They spent some time examining the "Tomb Room" - opening each of the sarcophagai and searching them thoroughly, finding nothing. The body of the mage, slowly ripening, lay were they had left it. They stepped over it and moved into the "Laboratory Room".

They assumed a defensive array, then tried the right-hand door. It revealed a 5 pace by 10 pace chamber, hung with burgundy and black wall hangings. Along the center of one of the long walls was a low table, with several small, gold vessels atop it. Shortsword at the ready, Rowan moved cautiously into the room. He heard a low humming noise fill the room and a moment later, a crackling crimson beam leapt from the table, striking Rowan full in the chest and dropping him to the ground, smoking and popping!

Rosë reached through the doorway and pulled Rowan to safety. A quick check by Lew showed that Rowan was quickly fading, so he called forth the power of _Osirian_ to heal his friend. Several miracles latter, Rowan was back up, although his hair still stood on end. They decided to leave the burgundy and black chamber alone for the time being and moved to the door on the left.

Rosë forced the door open and they found a narrow chamber stacked high with crates and boxes. In one corner, Rosë noticed two small forms, bound and gagged, laying amid over-turned pewter bowls and cups. He advanced cautiously, blade ready. The lantern-light revealed what looked like two wild-eyed children. Rosë called Quintus forward.

He rushed into the room and discovered his cousins, Meikos and Wynda, scared and hungry, but otherwise unharmed. Wynda began crying immediately, but Meikos started babbling excitedly about the "Mean Man" and the "Pretty Lady" and the "Icky Men". They were able to determine that the dead mage was the "Mean Man" and that a dark-haired "Pretty Lady" was nice to them and made sure they had food. Wynda's crying intensified when she saw the dead body of the "Mean Man" - so the band decided, after a quick conference, to take the children to town, then return.

They returned to find Glynden busily preparing for the anticipated barbarian incursion. After a tearful reunion between parents and children, the party went to see Father Thomas. They showed him the strange medallion they had discovered on the dead mage. After consulting a dusty tome, he indicated that it was the symbol of the *Cult of Ashai*, an ancient sect dedicated to a minor servant of Azrael-Arhiman.

Father Thomas seemed very disturbed by their find, but did not elaborate in great detail. They all felt that he might be holding something back from them, but decided not to press the issue further. When they asked how to deal with the chamber that contained the wall hangings and the alter, Father Thomas indicated that Lew could pit his holy power against the wardings of the chamber, much like he would when channeling the power of Osirian to repel undead. He warned his acolyte against taking such an action, however, since he could be seriously injured should he fail. The group decided, with Father Thomas input, to return to the complex and finish searching it.

Lew stayed behind to talk to Father Thomas for a few moments, since the burgunday and black hangings reminded him of the nightmares he had about his parent's deaths. He had a small crises of faith, unsure whether he could return to the complex. Father Thomas talked quietly with him for a few mintues and Lew, feeling better, emerged from the study to join his companions. Father Thomas' parting words was that they should be back no later than midday the following day.

The return trip was uneventful and they found the complex undisturbed since they last foray.

They examined the crates and boxes from the storage chamber, finding a large amount of preserved food and various mining and stone-working implements. Behind the heavy brown curtain they found a privy - no one volunteered to examine it closely!

They cautiously moved through the doorway that the enemy mage had fallen in. Beyond the threshold, they found what appeared to be living quarters, with two beds, a table and several stools. On the table they found writing insturments, what appeared to be a journal, written in a flowing script, and a crude map. Half-hidden by the covers on one of the beds they found a note, written in the same hand, to someone named Luc, who they surmised was the mage they had killed. Searching the room throughly, they found a hidden stash of coin, including over 150 solidii - more money than most of the group had ever seen in once place before!

_(DM's Note: I will post the contents of the journal and the note a little later.)_

Another heavy brown curtain covered the only obvious exit from the room, so the group moved forward cautiously to investigate. They discoved a narrow, rough-hewn passage behind the drapery and advanced, single-file. They kept a careful watch, since they had seen no sign of the undead miners that Lew had driven away the previous day. After 10 or so paces, the passageway turned to the left.

Rowan, in the lead, failed to hear a faint metallic "click". He did, however, notice the floor dropping away under him!

He desperately sought to catch himself on the edge of the pit as a section of the floor, hinged on one side, fell away. His lantern and short sword dropped into the pit, followed shortly by Rowan as his hands failed to find purchase. He dropped about 10 paces, landing heavily. Pain shot up both of his legs and he was greeted by a low moaning sound. 

His lantern had hit and tipped over, spilling out oil which ignited, throwing off a dim light. He saw the horrid visage of an undead miner, swinging a rotted fist at him. Underneath the feet of the miner were the broken bodies of two more...he had found the missing zombies!

*To Be Continued...*

*Next: Session 3 (Part Three) - How Many Adventurers Does It Take to Kill One Badly Wounded Zombie?*

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## Old One

*Interlude - Note and  Journal Entries*

As promised, here are the note and the journal entries discovered by the PCs:

*NOTE*

_Luc –

Continue with the Greenstrake experiment. Darkclaw and I are going to examine this new development in the 5th shaft. Prepare the new materials and don’t forget to feed our guests something.

-R._

*JOURNAL*


_14 Meresworn – Luc and I, along with our companions arrived at our destination. As C. indicated, it is truly a forsaken place. Have encountered several of the Blessed and set them to watch the upper mine and expanding the lower living quarters for a proper lab.

20 Meresworn – Preparations complete. We have set up the first titers for the Greenstrake experiment. Have located several more Blessed in the halls and bent them to my will. Luc is getting on my nerves – how I miss my home!

24 Meresworn – Luc is an idiot! I specifically told him to wait for 5 turns before mixing in the zombie powder. First titers are ruined. Darkclaw just returned from C. – more supplies should be coming soon.

2 Earthturn – Attended the Greengrass festival in that poor excuse for a town a couple of days ago. What a bunch of hicks! Did pick up some much needed supplies – soap and a washbasin among them. Some snoopy Caeldyn questioned me for a few minutes – but I made eyes at him and he left me alone.

10 Earthturn – Interesting! Darkclaw informs me that a bunch of strangers have occupied the 5th and 6th. I will have to see what they are about after we run the next titers tomorrow. No further word from C. about the additional materials I requested. Well, maybe Luc does have a brain in him – he captured two sweetlings. They may come in useful in our experiments. I will have to examine them more closely when I return.

10 Earthturn – Just what we need, a bunch of kilted idiots from some unwashed clan in the highlands! Perhaps we can turn this to our advantage. I just hope Luc doesn’t destroy the place while I look into this._

Stay Tuned...

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## Old One

*Session 3 (Part Three)*

*How Many Adventurers Does It Take To Kill One Badly Wounded Zombie?*

Rosë, who was directly behind Rowan, used his sword to jam the trap door over the pit open as it swung shut. He managed to stop it just before it closed, but couldn't see what is happening below. The others crowded forward to see what was happening. Rosë used his foot to shove the well-oiled door back open, but forgot to hold onto his sword. The large blade plummeted into the pit and narrowly missed Rowan!

Down in the pit, the badly injured Rowan took a feeble swing at the zombie miner, but failed to connect. The undead creature's return hit slammed the ranger up against the wall of the pit with stunning force. Bones buckled and Rowan dropped in a heap, bleeding from internal injuries.

Rosë saw his friend fall, snatched up a small hammer, grabbed the end of a length of rope and leapt into the pit, attempting to land on the zombie and crush it!  Unfortunately, he missed everything and landed on the only spot that did not contain a zombie or a companion, wrenching his leg in the process. The zombie greeted him with a stunning attack that left the barbarian reeling.

Above the pit, Sextus, Quintus and Lew milled around for a few moments in confusion before deciding on a course of action. Rosë and the undead miner traded blows, with the barbarian missing badly and the zombie scoring another hit, leaving Rosë teetering on the edge of consciousness! Meanwhile, the spilled lamp oil from Rowan's lantern had ignited the rotted clothing of the two zombie bodies, creating clouds of acrid smoke. The fire crept dangerously close to the prone form of Rowan, whose condition was rapidly deteriorating.

Lew stepped forward, raised his holy symbol and used the power of _Osirian_ to banish the zombie to the far wall of the pit. Quintus tied a rope around a healing draught to send it down to the barely conscious Rosë. The barbarian fumbled for a waterskin and attempted to put out the fire, but he did not have the strength to make the effort.

Quintus swung the healing draught into Rosë's hand and the failing barbarian gulped it down. Somewhat refreshed, Rosë quickly squirted water onto the leg of Rowan's trousers, which had just ignited from the burning oil. Then, coughing and wheezing through the increasingly dense smoke, he tied a rope around Rowan's pale form and called for the others to haul him up.

The ranger's limp body slid over the lip of the pit. Lew, fearing his friend was dead, dropped to one knee and detected a faint pulse. He quickly called upon all of his orisons and the minor holy power returned some color to Rowan's face. Quintus and Sextus hauled Rosë from the hole as the remaining zombie caught fire, moaning pitifully. The smoke was so dense that the group decide to beat a hasty retreat after administering another healing draught to Rowan. The potent liquid returned the ranger to wakefulness.

_(DM's Note: Rowan stabilized at -9, just before Rosë tied the rope around him to haul him out! He has not CON bonus, so he was 1 HP away from Deathsgate...still alive and kicking though.)_

Since they had expended two of their healing draughts, Lew was completely exhausted and both Rowan and Rosë were badly injured, they wisely decided to return to Glynden. They made it back to town without incident, reaching the gates 15 turns of the minute glass before they closed. They made straight for the Abbey to inform Father Thomas of their finds.

*To Be Continued...*

*Next: Session 4 (Part One) - Dead Man Walking*

I haven't finished doing the XP yet, but I think there will be enough for almost everyone to level for the next event. The way I work leveling is that training is required if:

1) A new feat is gained

2) A new spell level is gained

3) A new skill is chosen

4) A new class is taken

If the character is improving skills already known, gaining additional spells for spell levels they can already cast, etc - then training is not required. New hit points, saves, BAB bonus, etc. are obtained as soon as they level.

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## Old One

*Session 4 (Part One)*

When we last left our intrepid band, they had successfully rescued the missing children, Meikos and Wynda, and discovered a den of foul necromancy - filled with alchemical materials, zombies; skeletal archers and necromancer named Luc. After dispatching Luc and his menions, they found an unholy alter (which almost killed Rowan with a bolt of black, crackling energy) and information pointing to someone named "R", who seemed to be in charge of the operation. They also discovered symbology pointing to the involvement of an ancient assassin's group with ties to undeath - *The Cult of Ashai*.

An impending barbarian attack on Glynden forced the party to take cover within the stout walls of the town, their investigation incomplete...

*Dead Man Walking*

The barbarian warbands milled about Glynden and the surrounding area for over a week, but never even got within ballistae range of the town. Scouting expeditions by Kyndalyn the Younger and Josephus of Bremerton indicated that the tribesmen seemed to be searching the area...looking for something or someone.

Constant false alarms caused many sleepless nights and as the forced confinement continued, nerves began to fray and tempers grew short. "Boss" Brathwaite complained continuously about the amount of money he was losing due to the mines being closed and several fistfights erupted between miners and militia members.

During the forced inactivity, the party continued their research on the Cult of Ashai and discovered the following:

Ashai was once an angel, but rebelled against Osirian during the Sundering and is a retainer of Baelzar
The cult is known for its female followers and use of undead assassins
There are several old prophecies from the Cult of Shadow that refer to Ashai as a “path” or a “way”, but the context or meaning is unclear
Father Thomas’ information on the cult and Ashai are limited. He did relate that a shrine dedicated to the cult was reported to be located in the Lost Northern Provinces, but has no idea as to the exact location. He suggested that the Bishop’s library in Oar, which was much more extensive than the one in the Abbey, might hold more information.

Quintus and Sextus invited everyone to dine with his family on several occasions and he arranged to have his sister, Maxima, serve Rowan each time. On one occasion, the shy but levelheaded Maxima left Rowan a garland of flowers. Quintus was quite pleased by the smiles exchanged by his friend and sister!

Less pleasing to Quintus was that Ned Gallway (Brathwaite's foreman) dark looks followed him whenever they were in proximity. Quintus informed his companions that Gallway had forcibly prevented him from trying to search for his missing cousins and that he (Quintus) had escaped his confinement in the mine and stolen something very valuable and potentially very embarrassing from Gallway during the escape. He related the story because he was worried that Gallway might use the cover of a barbarian attack to stick a knife in him. He did not discuss the exact nature of the item, saying instead that it would be better for them if they did not know (for their own safety). In addition, his one-time lover Abrigal was missing. Quintus feared that she had fallen prey to either her own unhealthy interest in Necromancy or the machinations of Ned Gallway.

Sextus composed a song about the party’s exploits in defeating the undead and rescuing the children. He sang it at Nan’s Tavern several times, usually to a good response. One particular night, however, one of the miners starts making fun and Sextus takes offense. A scuffle ensued and Sextus was left with a badly wrenched back. Father Thomas recommended several days of bed rest, so Sextus did not accompany the group on their next foray.

_(DM Note: Steve, who plays Sextus, had an emergency trip to the vet with his dog as was unavailable to play.)_

The parents of Meikos and Wynda prepared a fine dinner for the party in thanks. Meikos also took to following members of the party around everywhere, proudly proclaiming to all that he too would be an adventurer someday – just like his brave uncles, Sextus and Quintus! Although it is flattering at first, the lad’s attention soon became rather cloying.

Rowan got Lew to teach him the basics of healing – bandaging, splinting, applying ointments and salves so the party would have some additional skill in that area.

Lew had a disturbing dream one night. He saw a lush green field and spotted a small figure approaching him. As the figure got closer, he realized that it was Garrick, wearing a broad smile. As Garrick got closer, Lew noticed that the look on Garrick’s face turned from happiness to concern and the halfling started running towards him – waving his arms, pointing behind Lew and screaming wordlessly. Lew was unable to turn around, his vision remained fixed on Garrick. Just before the halfling reached him, he saw a large curved sword blade reflected in the halfling's luminous brown eyes and the scene went blood red, then faded to black. Lew awoke in a cold sweat.

After ten days, no more was seen of the barbarians, so the Council of Elders released the townsfolk and miners to be about their business. With Sextus confined to his bed with a bad back, the party beseeched Father Thomas to accompany them to the underground laboratory and shrine to help them dispel the foul magic that so badly hurt Rowan. After some consideration, he agreed and joined them clad in ring mail armor and bearing a two-handed morningstar. They carefully retraced their now familiar path through the 2nd mine trace and reach the compound.

They noticed immediately that the body of Luc and the other undead they killed before were gone. Advancing cautiously, they found - much to their dismay - the entire workroom had been cleared out. In addition, the storeroom and sleeping chamber were also empty. The door to the shrine was closed, but Father Thomas detected some type of malevolent magic around the door. Father Thomas instructed everyone to prepare themselves, while he and Lew matched themselves against the magic. He called upon the power of _Osirian_ and a pulsating wave of shimmering blue light washed over the door like the ocean against a rocky coast. Crackling black energy surged against the blue and the two forces contended against ear other for several moments. Suddenly, without warning, the door shivered and then exploded into a thousand fragments. Father Thomas and Lew were pelted with wooden splinters, but sustained no real injuries.

Beyond the ruined door, the shrine chamber remained intact – walls covered with alternating crimson and black vertical hangings, a low table and three vessels. Father Thomas gathered his will once more and called upon the favor of _Osirian_. Waves of blue force emanated from the priest’s outstretched hands and rolled into the room. The images within shimmered for a moment, then dissipated, revealing skeletal archers and rotting zombies. Four arrows sliced through the open doorframe and both Father Thomas and Lew were grazed. Lew raised his own holy symbol and called upon his most potent power against such creatures, _Greater Turning_. He felt the power of _Osirian_ grow strong within him and sent the gathered strength hurtling towards the enemy. The waves of blue force washed over the skeletons and zombies, then a black flash issued from the chest of one of the zombies and the power of _Osirian_ was shunted aside, leaving all of the undead unharmed. Lew noticed that the black flash had originated from the zombie formerly known as Luc. Father Thomas attempted to repel the undead, with equally poor results.

As the remainder of the party readied themselves, four zombies plowed through the doorway and engaged Father Thomas, Lew and Röse. Three were swinging mining picks and one, the undead form of Luc, bore a long, curved knife with a serrated edge. The battle that followed was brutal. One zombie was quickly felled, but the other three landed punishing blows on Lew and Röse. Zombie Luc struck Röse again and again with the evil looking knife. The barbarian felt an unearthly coldness each time the knife struck, but was able to fight off any untoward effects. Röse, badly rattled, could not connect with Zombie Luc. Quintus, however, pump bolt after bolt into the body from just a few paces away. Rowan, using his superior aim, sailed several arrows into their foes until his bow broke unexpectedly with a resounding “crack”!

_(DM’s Note: Critical Fumble by Rowan.)_

The powers of the two priests of _Osirian_, normally very effective against undead, were useless. Each time they attempted to turn or dispel the creatures, a black stone amulet on a thong around Zombie Luc’s neck flared with crackling energy, counter-acting their positive force. In addition, after landing a mighty blow, Röse was stunned to see the stone flare and the undead flesh begin to knit back together! Quintus noticed this as well and continued to fire into Luc’s undead form. As Rowan discarded the remains of his bow and moved forward with his trusty shortsword, Lew called upon the power of his God to temporarily imbue Rowan’s blade with magical power. Another zombie was quickly dropped, but the gap created in the enemy line now allowed the skeletal archers to fire at the party. Numerous bone arrows started cutting through the air and several found their marks.

A powerful blow from Röse finally sent Zombie Luc crashing to the floor, after it had sustained enough damage to kill seven normal men. Quintus, waiting for just such an opportunity, leaped forward to tear the black stone pendant from Zombie Luc’s neck. Unfortunately, as Quintus grasped the stone, black crackling energy surged through him, seriously injuring him and forcing him to release the talisman. A moment later, a bone arrow struck the sorcerer in the chest and he slumped to the floor. Lew rushed to his friend and found him barely conscious. “Use the power of _Osirian_ to banish the others,” Quintus mumbled through gritted teeth, fighting to stay awake.

His faith in his ability somewhat shaken, Lew instead chose to use an orison to heal Quintus and allow him to act. A sword thrust from Rowan finished the last zombie and Father Thomas stepped around the doorway and felled a skeletal archer with a powerful blow of his morningstar. Another bone arrow grazed Lew while Quintus struggled back to his feet. Röse struck around the corner at another skeletal archer but missed. The hair on the back of the barbarian’s neck started to rise as he heard a scuffling sound at his feet – Zombie Luc’s flesh was knitting back together and the undead horror lunged forward, trying to bury its knife in his flesh! Desperately, he slashed down with his sword, but was unable to make contact. A crossbow bolt from Quintus and slash from Rowan’s blade felled Zombie Luc again and an audible “pop” was heard as the creature collapsed. Black smoke drifted up from the unmoving body…the black stone amulet was no more!

Seeing an opportunity, Father Thomas presented his holy symbol once more and called upon the power of _Osirian_ to blast the skeletal archers into oblivion. This time, there was no dark magic to protect them and the three remaining archers burst into dust in rapid succession. Röse, furious at the damage Zombie Luc had done to him, proceeded to hack the head, hands and feet from the corpse and array them on the empty work bench. They also noticed that the other three zombies all wore gray, rust and green checked tunics and they appeared to be fairly “fresh” – unlike the desiccated ones they had encountered before. After pausing to rest and heal for a few moments, the party pushed on to the tunnel past the sleeping chamber.

They used wood from the workbench and abandoned beds to bridge the pit where Rowan had nearly come to grief on their last foray and soon found well-worn shallow steps leading up, which ended before a blank wall. Röse quipped that he understood why the steps were so worn, “People walk up the steps, see wall, walk back down…then repeat!”

A quick search yielded a concealed slot. An inserted dagger later, a door swung open, revealing a rough-hewn corridor that opened into a slightly larger natural passage with smooth, irregular walls. Quintus indicated that it was probably an old underground stream or riverbed. They followed the dry streambed for about an hour, before deciding to return to Glynden. They speculated that a feature on one of the maps they had found might be the underground riverbed. They discussed their options with Father Thomas. They speculated that “R” had attacked the mining operation of Clan MacGlown and/or might be setting up operations in one of the more remote mines. They resolved to rest, re-fit and attempt to track her down.

Just as they were entering the town, Rowan noticed a large black crow watching them from a tree. When he turned to look fully at the bird, it disappeared into the woods.

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 4 (Part Two)- Röse’s Past Rears Its Ugly Head*

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## Old One

*Session 4 (Part Two)*

*Röse’s Past Rears Its Ugly Head*

That evening, they all gathered at the Scipio house for a chaotic meal. The oldest Scipio girl, Sebrina, is moping because she has been under "house arrest" since the kissing incident with Orsen Jucadius. Maxima, however, seems quite taken with Rowan (although he has spoken to her very little - his eyes and shy smile indicate he may be interested as well). Sextus remained firmly entrenched in his bed, even though several of his sisters whispered to Quintus that he was just malingering! Before departing, Rowan placed several pressed flowers from the garland Maxima had given him under his plate for her to find as she cleaned up after dinner. Quintus beamed to himself, "One down, six to go!"

Father Thomas took Lew aside for a few moments after he returned to the Abbey from dinner. "Lew, I want you to be very careful in your pursuit of the *Cult of Ashai*. The magics we encountered today are quite powerful. Do not be afraid to retreat if you are over-matched...I have already lost your brother and I can ill-afford to lose you as well!"

Lew mumbled that he would be careful, then stumbled off to bed, praying fervently to _Osirian_ for a dreamless night. He awoke the next morning feeling alive and refreshed.

They set out early the next morning, into the teeth of a chill breeze blowing from the north, bound for the 5th and 6th mine traces. Heavy dew covered the ground and shadowy tenidrils of mist drifted down from to foothills. Rowan, as usual, scouted ahead, alert for any signs of passage. After they passed the 2nd mine trace, the ground became much more broken and rocky. The path wound back and forth between huge boulders, rocky outcroppings and patches of scrub brush. About two turns of the hourglass out of Glynden, Rowan came across clear signs of a good-sized group (4-8) of human-sized creatures that had crossed the trail moving from west to east.

After a brief discussion, the party decided to follow the trail. Weapons were readied and they cautiously continued on. After another quarter of an hour, the rising sun began to burn off the dew, making it more difficult for Rowan to follow the trail. They soon came to a ridgeline, below which they could see the trail they had been following earlier. Several of the sharper-eared members of the band heard some faint noises ahead. Rowan crept forward to investigate.

He inched up one side of a large boulder and peeked over the top. There, not half a dagger throw away, the bearded visage of a tribesman stared back at him. The barbarian's face was well-tanned, his hair was coiffed in elaborate braids and several feathers were woven into his hair. They stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide with suprise, then both dropped down their respective sides.

Rowan alerted the others to the prescence of the tribesmen and a moment latter, gutteral shouting could be heard on the other side fo the ridgeline. The party clustered indecisively for a moment, trying to determine the best course of action. Several heartbeats later, three barbarian warriors charged over an adjacent hill, clad in leather armor and bearing large wooden shields and javelins. Their advance slowed for a a grain or two, then they saw Röse, broke into a chorus of warcries and sprinted forward. Lew and Quintus had some training in Gallic, the language of the tribes and clearly heard shouts of "Traitor"!

At ten paces, the barbarian hurled their javelins, then split up, seeking cover among the boulders. Their javelins tore into Röse with telling effect and blood gushed from two wounds. Recovering from their suprise, the party leapt into action. Rowan and Röse snapped off quick shots with their readied arrows and each grazed a tribesman. Quintus ducked behind a large rock and prepared to cast a _Sleep_ spell. Lew called upon the power of _Osirian_ to close some of Röse's wounds, but was able to channel only a small amount of his God's power.

The inner power that Röse had struggled to keep in check for the past several moons burst forth and the barbarian, in a cold rage, flung his bow aside, pulled his mighty blade and charged towards the nearest tribesman. Rowan's arrow buzzed past Röse's ear, drawing a thin line of blood across the enemy tribesman's scalp just before Röse reached him. A mighty two-handed blow cut through the tribesman's arm just above the rim of his shield, completely severing the limb before lodging in the ribs. The tribesman collapsed in a bloody heap - dead!

_(DM's Note: Not a critical - but a max damage hit while raging...ouch!)_

Quintus stepped around the boulder he had been using for cover and sent the other two tribesmen into a dreamless slumber with his arcane power. Just then, another trio of tribesmen broke cover and charged directly towards Röse. The two flanking warriors were accoutered like the first group. The one in the center, however, stood well over three paces high and bore a massive two-handed axe. He bellowed in anger when he saw Röse and began to froth at the mouth. Lew and Quintus both heard him shouting, "Where is she, traitor, what have you done with her?!?"

Röse's rage-dimmed mind sparked in vague recognition of the blond giant, although he couldn't place the name. Another javelin struck home as they closed with him and he barely avoided the deadly arc of the huge battle axe. Even in the depths of his rage, his wits were not totally gone and his brain screamed that he was doomed if he stood his ground. Röse leaped back and sprinted back up the hill towards his companions.

Lew took one look at Röse's bloodied form streaking up the hill, then he too turned and bolted. Quintus and Rowan looked at each other, then at the axe-wielding giant charging up the rocky slope towards them and reached an unspoken agreement to join the retreat!

"Turn and fight, softlings! You run like a woman, coward! Turn and face me, Traitor!"

Paying no heed to the epithets that followed them, the four companions raced back in the direction they had come. They succeeded in outpacing the two tribesman, but the blond giant gained ground on them with each step. Finally, Röse, slowed by wounds and feeling the adrenaline of his rage leaving his veins, could run no more. He ground to a halt and turned, wearily raising his blade and awaiting the onslaught of his enemy. The other three skidded to a halt and prepared to give battle.

Lew called the blessing of _Osirian_ down upon them and everyone felt their limbs and spirit strengthen.  Röse fired at the charging barbarian, who shrugged off the arrow strike and continued forward, axe held high. Quintus prepared another _Sleep_ spell and commanded the two trailing tribesmen into slumber.

The howling tribesman's first stroke shaved the stubble from Röse's face, but left his skin untouched. In return, Röse slashed into his opponent's leg - the power of _Osirian's_ blessing helping him past the raging barbarian's guard. Rowan took careful aim and fired again, but his shot sailed wide. Quintus added to the enemy's pain with missile of mystical force that burned into his chest.

The enraged barbarian slashed at Röse again. Somehow, he managed to stagger out of the way and the whistling axe blade cut nothing but air. The mad tribesman continue to shout curses at Röse, but his muscles are starting to quiver with exhaustion. The companions press their advantage in numbers and a sword blow and arrow later, the hulking tribesman lays at their feet...blood rapidly draining away.

_(DM's Note: My now infamous "dice luck" completely deserted me on this encounter. Depsite significant bonuses to hit plus raging, the barbarian leader missed Röse on every attack...all four of them. Boo Hiss!)_

Quintus, thinking quickly, instructed Lew to save the barbarian before he is completely gone. Lew looked at his friend in suprise but complied. Rowan and Röse quickly trussed up the two closest sleeping tribesmen and stripped them of their gear. Röse recognized them as being from the Allmani and the Nervii tribes. They found curious fetishes around the tribesmen's necks - made of feathers, animal claws and intricately wrapped string. Röse was uncertain as to their origin or meaning.

After a short, but heated debate, they decided to take the unconscious barbarian with them and retreat before any more tribesmen arrived. They decided to make for the 2nd mine trace first, see if they are pursued, then return to town. As they departed, Lew and Quintus demanded that Röse tell them what was going on and how the barbarians knew him.

Röse remained tight-lipped for a moment, then relented.

*Röse's Story*

_"Seven or eight moons ago, I went to a great Gathering of the Tribes - an event that happens but once every five or six winters. While there, I met a beautiful young woman by the name of Asralla. She was as taken with me as I was with her and we lay together...many times. Unknown to me, she was the daughter of Talorc, Warlord of the Allmani - who are the sworn blood enemy of my people, the Brigantes.

Her father's warriors caught us together and we were hauled before the Council of Warlords. Not only was she the daughter of Talorc, but she was promised to the son of the Warlord of the Nervii, Kothric, and it is he that we now carry! Vercinox, Warlord of the Brigantes, sentenced me to die at the hands of Barag, the great bear - totem of the Allmani - to prevent open warfare at the Council.

My mother, however, helped me to escape and I fled. Vercinox and his warriors pursued me to the Bridge of the Steel Men and I attempted to leap across it's broken span. I nearly made it, but fell instead into the Great Water. I was swept away and thought I that I was dead. Wingstrom, the Great Eagle - totem of the Brigantes - did not want me to die.

He sent the old witch to save me. She tended my wounds for many days and many nights and taught me to speak the words of the Steel Men. Then she turned into an eagle and flew away, heading east. I followed her path and eventually came to the huts of the Steel Men.

The only thing I can think of is that he is seeking Asralla, but I do not know why he would. She is only a woman and I have already taken her flower! I cannot believe that the Nervii and the Allmani would send a warbard after her...although she is beautiful enough to warrant it!"_

Quintus was incredulous. "You mean to tell me that this is a chief's son AND you stole his woman AND we have defeated him in combat?"

Röse nodded mutely, suddenly quite embarrassed. They arrived at the 2nd mine trace and entered, setting Rowan to watch for pursuit while the continued to discuss their options. Lew indicated that they needed to get the prisoner to some "proper" medical facilities or else he might still expire. Quintus was torn between killing him outright and trying to use him as a bargaining chip. In the end, they decided to return to town, with Kothric, and present the dilemma to the Council of Elders.

They returned to Glynden without further incident, although Quintus noticed a large crow atop one of the towers as they entered the gates. The bird cawed jeeringly at him, then winged its way north.

They quickly gathered Father Thomas and Kyndalyn and explained what had transpired. They made Röse relate his tale again and both were clearly concerned. Kyndalyn departed to find Josephus of Bremerton while Father Thomas called upon _Osirian_ to close the most serious of Kothric's wounds. The tribesman regained consciousness and immediately began railing at Röse. Then, taking note of his surroundings, he clamped his mouth shut and refused to say more.

A combination of diplomacy, bluffs, threats and intimidation did not elicit any further verbal responses, although his reactions to Röse's taunts led the party to believe that he was indeed searching for Asralla. Responding to queries on the subject, Röse indicated that returning him to his people would not guarantee the safety of Glynden, since he was not taken in honorable individual combat, but by many against one. He did seem to think that holding the son of the Warlord of the Nervii would all but ensure an attack.

Kyndalyn and Josephus arrived during this discussion and since Josephus seemed to know more about the tribesman than anyone except Röse, they asked for his advice. Quintus bluntly asked him if the drugs that he was using to poison, er...treat Quintus' father with would be of any use. Josephus bristled at Quintus' thinly veiled accusation and defended his aid for the elder Scipio. Quintus let the matter drop and they returned to the matter at hand.

After cutting off a huge chaw of raw tobacco, Josephus indicated that the best course of action was to take Kothric part-way to the Thunder River and leave him for his people to find after lighting a fire. While not assuring the town's safety, Josephus indicated that continuing to hold him was not a good idea. Kyndalyn and Father Thomas agreed and the Constable bluntly asked the party to accept the task.

"I will provide a buckboard and team...can you leave at first light?"

Quintus, acting as party spokesman, agreed, but placed a condition upon the agreement.

"I am concerned about the proximity of my family's dwelling to the walls. If I...we agree to this, will you agree to find a suitable dwelling for them closer the center of town?" He was desperate to get his family out from under the thumb of Ned Gallway and "Boss" Brathwaite.

Kyndalyn agreed to look into the matter, as did Father Thomas. Josephus looked at Quintus, a sly gleam in his eye and fished a small glass vial, filled with green liquid, from his pouch and handed it to the sorcerer. "Here'n ya go, this may come in helpful. Just a coupla' drops now...not too much...it should keep him quiet!"

Quintus nodded wordlessly and accepted the vial. They all agreed that they would gather at first light and depart. Röse suggested that Kyndalyn exchange the ropes for manacles. Looking down, the Constable was shocked to see that Kothric had already chewed his way through the topmost rope. He hastily agreed and the party, subdued and concerned, departed to turn in for the night.

That night, Lew had another bizarre dream. This time, Marcus Tiro approached him across the same field that Garrick had. Marcus, however, was covered in blood and had a score of barbarian javelins protruding from his body. His eyes were closed, but as he drew close to Lew, he opened his eyes and mouth and bright red blood came gushing out. With each step, Marcus Tiro left a huge puddle of blood. As before, Lew's vision went blood red before fading to blackness.

The band gathered at the gaol early the next morning and prepared to depart. A chill wind blew from the north, quite unusual for that late in the spring. Their cargo, awake but bound and gagged, was loaded into the buckboard. He glared at them with hatefilled, bloodshot eyes that seemed to burn right through them! Shaken, they prepared to depart Glynden with the son of the Nervii Warlord.

*To Be Continued...*

*Next: Session 5 (Part One)- Barbarians, Dire Bears and Diapers…Oh My!*

Old One


----------



## Old One

*Interlude - Quintus' Log*

Greetings All!

The following is the log for Quintus (played by Corey) from our last adventure. It is written from the PCs perspective and gives his thoughts on many of the "plot hooks" that are dangling out there!

Enjoy!

*Quintus' Journal*

_When the barbarian tribes crossed the Thunder River, I feared they had finally decided that to rid the north of civilization's remaining stronghold. I was relieved when they withdrew after more than a week of inexplicable activity.

Certainly their puzzling behavior needs further investigation, but I remember my grandfather, Tribune Antonine Scipio, using his few sober moments to tell me to stay focused on one objective. Currently, our objective is to investigate the activity apparently being conducted by the Cult of Ashai in Glyndyn's western mine traces.

However, my grandfather never mentioned that several problems might all demand my attention at once.

These problems, as near as I can sort them in my own head, include: 

My corrupt former boss Ned Gallway wanting me dead for stealing information that could compromise his illegitimate activities 
My former fiance Abrigal is missing 
My crippled father, emotionally ruined mother, irresponsible brother and six younger sisters may be thrown homeless into the street at any moment 
The eldest and most foolish of my sisters is obsessed with one of the town thugs 
Some crazed woman has established an alter to an ancient necromantic deity 
And now the barbarians are playing mind games with us.
Trying to sort all that out makes my head hurt!

During the barbarian troubles I had Sextus, my less than responsible brother, compose a song about rescuing our cousins. He lacks direction, but is a fine singer. This admittedly weak ploy achieved my purpose of calling positive attention to our band. I feared a fight with the barbarians might be excellent cover for Gallway to put a knife in me. I hoped the attention the song brought to us meant Gallway could not exploit my relative anonymity in Glyndyn to have me quietly thrown down one of the town wells.

I also invited my new friends to dinner to informed them of the situation with Gallway. They also helped to ensure my safety. I also used the dinner to introduce Rowan to my sister Maxima. They seemed to get along and perhaps in a few months that could mean one less sister as my direct responsibility. Rowan has shown himself to be a fine and responsible man.

For several reasons, returning to the Ashai alter seemed the best course of action after the warbands left. This allowed me to honor Father Thomas' request that we continue to investigate that situation. Plus, it meant I might locate some information on Abrigal. Her interest in necromancy, the issue that led to our split, might have drawn her to the temple. Finally, I find being out of town helps ease the crawling feeling I get between my shoulders when I see Gallway or his cronies.

With Sextus "injured" at home ensuring our sisters' safety our band enlisted Father Thomas' aid and returned to the mine traces. Outside the mine entrance Rowan located a woman's footsteps going in and then coming back out. I strongly believe that it may have been Abrigal. Inside, as I had assumed, the mysterious woman behind the kidnapping of my cousins had cleaned the place up. I did not expect the trap she set for us.

As Father Thomas attempted to remove the evil of the alter, it disappeared - leaving several undead attacking us. I expected Lew and Father Thomas to deal with the creatures quickly, but a pendant around the now undead neck of the wizard Luc, who we had killed on our last visit, seemed to absorb the power of Osirian. From behind a door I fired bolt after bolt into the zombie. Each time that pendant around his neck flashed black and undid some of the damage I had done. When our band's barbarian felled Luc, I immediately rushed in to cast the pendant into another room. With the pendant's evil removed from the area, I assumed our hard pressed clerics could then turn the remaining undead.

The jolt of raw power that surged through me when I grabbed the foul pendant was more painful than anything I can remember. I was trying to gather my wits when another undead beast shot me with an arrow. My knees gave out and I fell hard to the floor. I remember Lew coming to me, but using very little of his power to heal me. 

In fact, it was just enough to let me get up and weakly stagger away from the combat area. He argues that by then the situation was in hand and he did not want to misuse the healing force of his deity. I maintain that I am useless to my companions flopping around on the floor nearly unconscious. Our disagreement aside, our party did survive the trap and Father Thomas healed my injuries.

More searching of the area led us into a tunnel that my experience in Braithwaite's mines told me was carved by an underground river. We followed it a short way, finding signs of someone recently passing through, but gave up the trail after an hour.

That night I again inquired around town about Abrigal, but found no good news. Roget Crow, the leader of my mining team, kindly provided information about the other mine traces we needed to investigate. I invited Rowan to dinner. Maxima and he seemed pleased to see one another. Sextus remained in bed, but Luella and Chastina tell me he is merely enjoying being waited on. I should be mad but for some reason, I can never be angry with Sextus. 

My father, of course, was intoxicated on that cussed painkilling herb Josephus of Bremerton is always providing. Part of me wonders what motivates Josephus. I have tried to stop him, but mother always insists that it is for the best.

The next morning Rowan, Lew, the barbarian and I headed out of town to begin investigating the 5th and 6th mining traces. Quickly, Rowan spotted recently made tracks crossing the trail we were following. When he identified them as a barbarian warband my heart sank.

I wanted to continue on our way to the mines and report our find to the militia later. The others all wanted to follow the warband. I bowed to their consensus.

We followed the tracks for only a short time before Rowan hissed us to a halt and pushed forward to scout the area alone. His very rapid return and the obvious danger it implied threw us into momentary confusion. I heard barbarian voices shouting. Figuring to use our barbarian to confuse them I shouted a greeting in their own language, which I had learned from some fellow miners. The ruse worked just long enough for them to see our barbarian. I was able to pick the word "traitor" out from the curses they hurled his way. Their foul oaths were rapidly followed by well aimed javelins.

Then they split up. I saw a couple moving to flank us and positioned myself to deal with them. As the initial rush of violence passed my mind started working, trying to assess our situation. We had no idea how many barbarians were concealed in the rocks around us. Certainly, their reaction indicated that violence was the only way they would resolve this situation. I made a decision.

It was time to run.

I spotted the two barbarians who were trying to flank our party. I hit them with the sleep spell Abrigal had taught me. They both dropped in their tracks. Turning to my party members I yelled, "Run!"

Being called a traitor had a significant effect on our barbarian's mood. His face went red and his whole body gathered itself like a coil. He exploded in the direction of one of his fellows who had appeared from behind a rock. Rowan grazed the enemy warrior with an arrow just before Rose reached the man. Rose's rage and charge combined into a mighty swing that instantly severed the man's arm from his body. The dying man collapsed his face displaying complete shock.

Agreeing with my sentiment, Rowan and Lew moved to extract themselves from the fight. Slaying the warrior seemed to restore some reason to our barbarian and he too decided to flee.

Behind us the pursuit began. One barbarian in particular seemed fueled by his utter hatred of Rose. He pulled ahead of our other pursuers and rapidly gained ground on us. Seeing that he would soon catch us, I worked out a quick plan with the others.

We stopped and I cast my sleep spell again. It failed to penetrate his rage and he slammed into us. I think Rowan may have hit him with an arrow before he did so. While the other three took on this monster of a man I watched for his comrades. As soon as two of them appeared I dropped them with a sleep spell and then turned back to their now very outnumbered leader. He was directly engaged with Rose and Lew while Rowan stood back and spiked him with arrows. I blasted him with a magic missile and Rose finally landed a blow that overwhelmed the raging barbarian leader.

Knowing he could provide much useful information I had Lew bind his wounds while Rowan bound his limbs. Rowan also tied up the two sleeping barbarians. We argued over a course of action but ultimately agreed to return to the mine trace we had previously explored and see if we were pursued.

On the way I began to grow angry. Perhaps it was Rose they had been searching for. Certainly, the barbarian elicited a strong reaction from the other tribesmen. Had Glyndyn, and my family, been threatened with eradication by this barbarian who choose to keep secrets?

As soon as we were safe I challenged him with these concerns.

The tale he told us, well edited I believe, boiled down to irresponsible drinking and womanizing. He had demonstrated admirable morality in helping to rescue my cousins. However, with this nonsense he completely reinforced all the stories of barbarians passed to us from our great-grandfather, the heroic Senior Centurion Manlius Scipio. I remain convinced that the Northern Provinces need the return of imperial Emorian stability.

Recognizing that this situation was beyond our meager experience, we elected to return to Glyndyn and turn our prisoner over to our betters.

It shocked me when Kyndalyn left me to question the prisoner. My experience with such matters is limited to posturing for tough miners seeking to intimidate, fool or coax them into doing tasks they would prefer to avoid. I tried everything I could and failed utterly to extract any information. On prodding from our barbarian, the warleader, Kothric, did give away that the tribes had been searching for a woman named Asralla. This was the same woman our barbarian had flung himself upon and who was 
supposed to marry Kothric.

Kyndalyn, Father Thomas and that pig Josephus conferred on a course of action. They decided, on Father Thomas' recommendation, that my companions and I should take this Kothric to a place where other tribesmen can retrieve him, thus averting a possible attack on Glyndyn.

This additional problem caused my head to ache more.

I know Kyndalyn and Josephus are friends. It is a relationship that concerns me, since Kyndalyn's father is well known to have been an honorable man. I tried to discredit Josephus a little in Kyndalyn's eyes by asking about the poison he keeps my father sedated with. Josephus of course blamed it on my mother and Kyndalyn elected silence.

We agreed to undertake the task, but I placed a condition on our aid. I asked both Kyndalyn and Father Thomas to aid me in finding new housing for my family. I need them out of a residence controlled by Ned Gallway. The two men agreed and knowing my situation my companions kindly remained quiet about my seemingly odd request.

So tommorow, we will take Kothric away from Glyndyn. Josephus gave me some of his vile liquid to keep the warchief sedated, but I chucked it as soon as I could. Tonight, I will reflect on the missing Abrigal and the odd crows that seem to be watching our movements recently.

*~Quintus Scipio*_


----------



## Old One

*Session 5 (Part One)*

When we last left our intrepid band, they had returned to the underground temple of Ashai, only to find it abandoned and trapped with some very persistent undead. After defeating them (with the help of Father Thomas), they decided to examine the 5th and 6th mine traces to see if the operations of “R” had moved there and to discover the fate of the miners from Clan MacGlowan. Enroute, they encountered a small mixed band of Nervii and Allmani, led by Kothric – son of the Nervii warlord. After a tough fight, they captured Kothric and discovered that the tribesmen were searching for Asralla, Kothric’s betrothed and Rosë’s lover! After consulting with the Council of Elders in Glynden, they decided that holding Kothric was too dangerous, so they resolved to transport him partway to the Western Wilds and release him. Sextus finally rose from his sickbed and joined the rest of the group just before they departed.

*Barbarians, Dire Bears and Diapers…Oh My!*

The first four and a half days out of Glynden were fairly uneventful. They traveled south for a day, then turned west until they reached the Thuringian Wood. Their plan was to travel along the north side of the woods, following the tree line as it turned southwest, then release Kothric at the western most edge of the woods. The weather was mostly clear, with a couple of brief rain showers and the temperatures were comfortable. The Council of Elders had provided a buckboard and team to make transport easier and the standard marching order was Rowan ranging out ahead, Lew driving the team, Sextus guarding Kothric (who was manacled in the bed of the buckboard), Quintus walking beside the buckboard with a _Sleep_ spell at the ready and Rosë guarding the rear. Numerous times, they noticed large crows watching them, although there didn’t seem to be any pattern. The birds were careful to stay several bowshots away and Rowan thought that at least two different birds were keeping tabs on their movement. In addition, all the companions felt that they were being watched from time to time during the journey, but they were unable to locate any spies.

During the journey, Quintus and Sextus worked hard at gaining Kothric’s confidence. For the first day or so, their efforts were rewarded with nothing but snarls and silence, but gradually the two charismatic brothers wore the barbarian chieftain down. By the third day, Kothric was laughing at Sextus’ jokes (even though the diminutive bard spoke little Gallic and Kothric’s Tradespeak was abominable). Quintus also spoke with Kothric at length about the dangers of the _Shadowlord_ and his menions, trying to impart upon the barbarian the common dangers that they all faced and find some common ground. Despite his best efforts, he discovered that Kothric had a very simple world view – there were good totems and evil totems. _Barag_ – the bear totem – was a good one, strong and brave. Others were not so good. Quintus produced the medallion they had found with the symbol of _Ashai_ on it and tried to get Kothric to take it…so he and his people could be on the lookout for such things. After all of Quintus’ talk of evil and spirits and demons and the _Shadowlord_, the overwhelmed barbarian vehemently refused!

One morning, Kothric let slip that Asralla had taken the _Artosiak_, a talisman sacred to _Barag_, when she fled and that was the REAL reason that so many tribesmen were searching for her. Talorc, Warlord of the Allmani, and his shaman swore that Rosë had crossed the river in the dead of winter and stolen the girl and the talisman away. The companions countered that Rosë had been in Glynden all winter and spent much of the time sick in bed, so it was impossible that he had been responsible for the girl and the talisman’s disappearance. At first, Kothric did not believe him, but Quintus, Lew and Sextus all swore that it was true. Troubled by the revelation and the absolute certainty of the party, the barbarian retreated into thought, emotions clearly playing across his face. By the following day, even Kothric’s denunciations of Rosë lost most of their venom and the huge warrior seemed to be struggling with numerous thoughts and emotions.

On the fifth day out of Glynden, as they were skirting the northern edge of the Thuringian Wood, the pleasant weather turned threatening. Rosë and Rowan agreed that the large thunderheads building in the sky to the North meant a significant storm before the end of the day. The party hatched a plan to try and snare the “ghost” that had been following them. They decided that Rowan would use the cover of the storm to double back and try to locate whoever it was that was following them. Unfortunately, the violence of the storm made the endeavor impossible. Tremendous winds and torrential rains cut visibility to half a spear’s throw and the party, minus Rowan, decided to hunker down and wait the storm out. After wandering blindly about for an hour, Rowan reached the same conclusion. After several hours, the rain slackened somewhat as the worst part of the storm passed. Somewhat disoriented, Rowan spent several hours traipsing about the woods before he located the remainder of the party. Wet through and through, cold and dispirited, the companions slept fitfully on the soggy ground.

The morning sun revealed a thick layer of mist blanketing much of the area, limiting visibility to a bowshot. After a brief debate, they decided to press forward, using the wood line as a guide. The heavy rains of the previous night made for slow going, as the buckboard became mired again and again. By noon, everyone was tired and muddy – but Rowan thought they were getting close to the area where they planned to release Kothric. The ranger also noticed a heavily wooded ridgeline rising out of the forest to the southeast. The group decided to halt, eat a quick meal and rest the team. Rowan conducted a quick reconnaissance of the area and noticed numerous shapes moving in the mist to the west and the north. He saw the unmistakable outlines of tribesmen separating from the mist and sprinted back to his companions. As he did, a long deep blast from a hunting horn echoed from the mist only a few bowshots away!

Thinking quickly, Quintus ordered Rosë into the woodline. Once the Brigante disappeared into the trees, he jumped up into the wagon, unshackled Kothric and pointed into the mists, “Go now, your people are there!”

The barbarian warrior looked down at his unrestrained wrists and flexed his massive hands. He stared hard at the party for a moment, looking at Quintus, Sextus, Lew and Rowan in turn before gazing in the direction that Rosë had run. An internal struggle played clearly across his rugged features, then he grinned and pointed back in the direction they had come from, “Go now,” he stuttered in broken Tradespeak. “Take funny man with you and go quickly!”

He indicated Sextus with a nod of his head and, after another brief look towards Rosë’s hiding place, jumped down off the wagon and strode purposefully towards the approaching tribesmen. With a collective sigh of relief, the companions got the buckboard turned around and hastily began to depart the area. 

Rosë, who was watching the proceedings from the cover of the trees, caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He glimpsed a green cloak and a moving arm, then saw an arrow sail from behind a tree several spear throws away and bury itself in Kothric’s back. As he slapped the reins to get the team moving, Lew heard a low thrumming sound and turned in time to see the arrow strike their erstwhile prisoner, who pitched forward with a cry of agony! Lew didn’t even bother to stop the buckboard – he just jumped off and sprinted to the now prone Kothric. Rowan, Sextus and Quintus looked at each other in stunned amazement, then followed Lew. They found Kothric alive, but bleeding profusely from a terrible wound in the lower back.

Meanwhile, Rosë snapped a shot at the green cloaked form, but his aim was off and the arrow sank into a tree two paces above the figure’s head. The hooded form looked briefly in Rose’s direction, turned away, shouted something in Gallic, then sprinted up the ridgeline. Rosë leapt off in pursuit and was unable to make out the words. Down below, Lew made out the words ”Kothric, death and Steel Men”. Cries of anger and outrage hurtled from the mist to the west and north – very close at hand – the tribesmen were closing in!

Lew, assisted by Sextus, worked feverishly to save the barbarian warrior’s life. He called upon the favors of Osirian while Sextus administered a healing draught. The flow of blood slowed somewhat, then Lew noticed that the area around the wound was quickly turning black…poison! Tearing into his kit of salves and herbs, the cleric made his best guess as to the source and offered up a fervent prayer to _Osirian_. Meanwhile, Quintus called out in Gallic that an assassin had tried to kill Kothric and they were doing there best to save him. He hoped against hope that the enraged tribesmen would hear. Kothric’s color improved as Lew’s skill bested the poison and another healing draught and prayer to Osirian closed the gaping wound. Kothric’s ragged breathing improved to the rythmic cadence of deep slumber – but he remained unconscious.

The shouts of rage continued unabated from the closing tribesmen and a clear chant separated itself from the cacophony of sound – “Death to the Steel Men!"

Rosë had already disappeared up the mist-shrouded hillside in pursuit of the green-cloaked assassin. Quintus looked at the numerous shapes emerging from the mist and converging on their location. Many were less than half-a-bowshot away!

“Run!”

Abandoning the buckboard and team – Rowan, Sextus, Quintus and Lew turned and sprinted into the woods, making for the ridgeline. Quintus lagged behind a little to cover their retreat, ready to use his magical slumber if need be. His heart sank as he saw two score or more tribesmen emerge from the mist. Several stopped to look at the prone, blood-covered form of Kothric. The rest, catching sight of the fleeing companions, bellowed war cries and sprinted forward in pursuit like a pack of wolves!

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 5 (Part Two) - Last Stand?*

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 5 (Part Two)*

*Last Stand?*

Dodging through the mist and the trees, Rosë caught several glimpses of the green-cloaked assassin, but even his superior speed was not enough to close the gap. Suddenly, rising out of the mist at the crest of the ridgeline, the sharp-eyed barbarian spotted ivy-covered walls and the faint outline of a tower…there was a structure surmounting the hilltop. Shouting and waving frantically, he tried to catch his companion’s attention.

Lew noticed Rosë’s gestures and spied the walls looming to his right. He called to those behind him and altered course, making for the structure. Eventually, everyone noticed what looked like a very old hill-fort, heavily swathed in clinging ivy, squatting atop the ridge like a tired old man. About a bowshot away, they stumbled over the remains of a well-worn stone trail that led up to the crumbling ruin.

The rigors of the climb took their toll on the group – particularly Lew and Sextus. About ¾ of the way to the summit, Sextus could go no further and had to stop and catch his breath. The pursuing tribesmen continued to close as Quintus reached his brother and urged him to continue with all speed. Reaching deep within himself, Sextus summoned the last of his energy and gained the hilltop on leg muscles screaming with agony. The two brothers joined Rowan, Lew and Rosë before a pair of rusty iron gates that led through a simple gatehouse and into the fort. The towers flanking the gate where about 12 paces high and the curtain wall stood seven or eight paces above the ground.

Rowan and Rosë advanced cautiously into the structure, arrows notched, while Lew, Quintus and Sextus tried to get the gate shut. They found themselves in a small courtyard with eight or nine small stone buildings built against the walls. Directly across from where they had entered, they saw another gatehouse with an ironbound wooden gate that appeared closed. Rowan caught a brief glimpse of a shadowy figure in an earth-tone cloak, but it disappeared behind the remains of building before he could get a good look at it. Rowan motioned to Rosë and the pair split and circled the building, attempting to trap whoever it was between them.

Meanwhile, the rusty iron gate squealed and shuddered in protest as Lew, Sextus and Quintus threw their combined weight against it. As they strained against the gate, they could see nearly a score of barbarian warriors closing on them. With a supreme effort, they managed to push the gate shut just as the lead barbarians slammed against it! Quintus stepped forward with the beam to bar the gate, but the tribesmen heaved against the door before he could firmly seat it and it popped out and fell to the ground. Glancing back and seeing their dilemma, Rowan rushed back to the door and put his shoulder to it as Quintus once again tried to get the bar in place.

A tense, silent struggle ensued as the party and the barbarians pushed with all of their might – separated by a hand’s breadth of rusty iron. With a desperate heave, Rowan, Lew and Sextus pushed the door closed enough for Quintus to clap the crossbar into place. Exhausted, the quartet backed away from the gate and Rowan broke off to assist Rosë. Quintus noted that the ivy on either side of the gatehouse was moving and quickly surmised that the barbarians were using the ivy to scale the wall. He sent Lew and Sextus to try and open the next gate and grimly prepared to cast a _Sleep_ spell the moment a tribesman’s head appeared over the rampart.

Rowan crept towards the place he had last seen the cloaked figure, ready to fire. On the other side of the building, Rosë peeked around the corner and saw a figure, swathed in a brown, hooded cloak crouching low and peering in the direction of the rest of the party. He grimly raised his bow and prepared to fire – then hesitated. Slowly stowing his bow, he pulled a dagger, flipped it over and moved forward, preparing to strike the crouching figure with the pommel. He was only a pace away when his foot crunched on a piece of dry ivy. Without turning around, the cloaked figure rolled to the right, through an open doorway and into the building interior. The Brigante cursed and leapt forward. Rowan arrived just in time to see the brown-cloaked figure disappear and he ran forward as well.

Several heads appeared above the parapet on the left side of the gate and Quintus loosed his magic. Most of the heads disappeared, but one tribesman resisted his magic and continued to climb. Lew and Sextus had no luck forcing the other gate. They looked at each other, nodded and started to climb. Sextus made no progress at first and Lew reached the top of the wall before a handful of ivy gave way and he fell heavily to the ground. Sextus redoubled his efforts and reached the top. Looking behind him, he saw numerous tribesmen swarming over the first wall.

Quintus continued to call forth his magic, casting spells on both the right and the left of the gatehouse. Most of his targets succumbed to the magic and one fell from the top of the wall into the courtyard. The tribesman struck the ground heavily, but the force of the blow jarred him from his slumber and he sat up groggily, trying to focus on the sorcerer. Quintus spoke in Gallic again, maintaining their innocence and pleading with the barbarians to call of their attack. The tribesman struggled to his feet – but seemed to be listening to the silver-tongued sorcerer. Just then, a black arrow struck the warrior right below the collarbone, slamming him back into the wall. Four or five of his fellows topped the wall as he crumpled to the ground and the howls of outrage began anew! Quintus, greatly angered, looked around – but quickly surmised that none of his party had launched the arrow.

Rosë and Rowan cornered their quarry in an interior room of the ramshackle stone building. A heavy bladed dagger appeared in one hand as the large hood fell back. Rowan looked down to see a dirty, but beautiful, face – framed by lustrous dark hair – gazing fearfully up at him. Rosë’s forward momentum ground to a halt as he stared in disbelief. Asralla’s full lips mouthed a single word…

“Rosë!”

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 5 (Part Three) - Lost, Found and Lost Again*

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 5 (Part Three)*

*Lost, Found and Lost Again*

Rosë quickly recovered from his shock, reached down and hauled Asralla to her feet. He dashed from the building, dragging her with him – Rowan was right on their heels. Rowan noticed that the girl was cradling a bundle under her cloak. Sextus had managed to unbar the second gate and both Lew and Quintus slipped inside. Around the gatehouse, a dozen tribesmen formed up and charged forward, hurling javelins and swinging battle axes.

Rosë, Asralla and Rowan reached the gate a dozen paces ahead of the barbarian and squeezed through the opening. Asralla was jostled roughly as she passed and a high pitched wailing, completely out of place for the situation, issued from beneath her cloak. Quintus yelled for Rosë to stop and lend a shoulder to the second gate, but the barbarian continued forward with the girl. A smaller courtyard, enclosed by a seven or eight pace high curtain wall, lay behind the gate. A squat, two-story tower was in the center and a small building that reminded the Brigante of the Abbey of Osirian was off to the left.

Quintus cursed Rosë under his breath and the remainder of the party tried desperately to close and bar the gate as the tribesmen hurled themselves against it. Javelins flew through the narrow gap and whistling battle axes cut huge slivers of wood from the gate. Despite their best efforts, the superior numbers of the tribesmen began to tell and slowly, inexorably, the gate began to open. Quintus stepped back for a moment, sighted through the opening and left fly with a _Sleep_ spell. Half of the tribesmen dropped and the remainder milled about in confusion for a moment. The companions used the respite to slam the gate shut and slid the crossbar into place.

Meanwhile, Rosë was battering against the door of the tower, with little success. Rowan, Sextus and Quintus readied missile weapons and slowly backed away from the gate – which was now shivering under the renewed assault of the tribesmen. Again and again, Rosë hurled himself against the stubborn tower door. Finally, his effort were rewarded by a resounding CRACK as the tower door gave way. Unfortunately, that noise was echoed as the crossbar on the gate splintered and the doors flew open, releasing a flood of howling tribesmen. Simultaneously, several barbarians gained the towers flanking the gate after scaling the ivy-covered walls and began hurling javelins into the party.

The party’s readied missile weapons flew into the mass, but failed to make a dent in the surging horde. Quintus and Rowan broke for the tower, but the leading tribesmen caught Lew and Sextus. Lew suffered a staggering blow and was in danger of being swarmed over. Every fiber in Sextus’ body screamed at him to run, but he merely took a step back, raised his crossbow and fired it point blank into the nearest tribesman – buying Lew a chance to disengage and stumble to the tower.

For a moment the tableaux held – the diminutive bard stood, defiant and all alone, before the cresting wave of tribesman. Miraculously, he dodged axe blow after axe blow, twisting and turning, before disengaging and racing towards the tower. 

Inside the tower, the rest of the party found naught but wooden ladders leading up to a second story and then the roof. Lew and Rowan climbed for altitude and a good firing position while Rosë, Quintus and Asralla stood at the door – watching Sextus with a mixture of fear, awe and admiration. When the bard broke for the door, Asralla shoved the bundle she had been carrying – soft and whimpering - into Rosë’s hand and ran towards the charging tribesmen, tears streaming down her face. Rosë grasped desperately at her but she slipped from his grasp and was gone. His mind whirled, refusing to accept what his other senses told him to be the truth. The Brigante stepped into the interior of the tower, carefully placed the bundle in a corner and returned to his place at the door. Sextus passed Asralla and literally dove through the open doorway, skidding past Quintus to momentary safety. Vastly relieved, Quintus yelled to his brother to help Rosë bar the door and began climbing the tower. Lew paused for a moment and called the blessing of _Osirian_ down upon his friends. 

Rosë exited the door just in time to see Asralla halt before the charging mass of warriors and raise her arms. The blood-mad tribesmen did not even slow – several javelins plunged into her body and at least two axes landed with clearly audible sounds – her brown-cloaked form slumped to the ground! The barbarian wave washed over her and continued to the door of the tower. Rosë was struck be several hurled javelins as they closed. Rosë screamed in pain and anguish and felt his anger, barely held in check to that point, boil over into rage and started laying about him with his battle axe. On the battlements above, Lew and Rowan traded arrow fire for javelin tosses and lucky throws hit both of them.

Suddenly, a vibrant green flash emanated from Asralla’s slumped form and the surging knot of tribesmen broke apart with yells of terror and dismay. An enormous bear, coarse brown fur bristling, rose from the ground were the bleeding form of the girl had been, standing above the fray on two tree-trunk-sized legs – towering eight paces high. For a moment, everything stopped as attacker and defender stood stock still in slack-jawed wonder. Then an ear-splitting roar, strong enough to shake loose stones from the top of the tower, rent the air and two huge paws flashed down into the tribesmen – sending warriors and parts of warrior spattering in every direction. Asralla had activated the _Artosiak_!

Momentary panic seized the barbarian warriors, but a clear voice called out from beyond the second gate, “Stand before the false image!”

The power of the voice steadied the tribesman and they renewed their assault. Some launched attacks at the impossibly large bear, while others slipped behind it at rushed Rosë, pushing him back from the threshold of the door. Above the second gate rose gray vapors and they began to coalesce into the semi-solid form of another huge bear, a twin to the first. With a spectral howl that chilled all who heard it, the ghost bear leapt forward and attacked the first bear. The force of the impact sent several tribesmen flying.

Lew and Rowan retreated from the exposed roof and joined Quintus on the second floor of the tower, taking advantage of the cover provided by the arrow slits on that level to pour arrow and bolt into the tribesmen. Lew, using a bow borrowed from Rowan, proved to be particularly ineffective, so Quintus suggested that he try to find an escape route from the tower in case the battle went against them. Down below, the enraged Rosë discarded his axe, which was too big for the enclosed space and drew two heavy bladed daggers. Sextus tried unsuccessfully to wedge the door shut, then was forced to defend himself against as a warrior slipped past Rosë and lunged at him. He still held his crossbow and managed to deflect the first attack!

Out in the inner courtyard, a titanic struggle was taking place. The bear of flesh and the spectral bear slashed and roared and snapped at each other with unspeakable violence. When the ghost bear struck, it left blackened wounds in its wake. When the solid bear landed a blow, gray tendrils of smoke wafted skyward then dissipated. Below them, the tribesmen hacked away with battle axes and desperately hurled javelins, scoring numerous hits on the bear of flesh, which was soon bleeding from a dozen or more wounds. From time to time, a huge paw or the gaping maw of the solid bear dipped into the tribesmen surrounding it, usually with fatal results.

Lew discovered that a steep slope lay behind the tower and he began to secure a rope to allow the party to escape off the tower if necessary. Meanwhile, Rowan and Quintus fired as quickly as they could, with Quintus taking special care to aim for injured warriors. Rosë’s flashing daggers took one warrior and then another, but more kept taking their place and soon both he and Sextus were bleeding from serious wounds. Staggering back from a vicious cut, Sextus threw caution to the wind, gritted his teeth and slapped another bolt into his crossbow. He deftly avoided the tribesman’s thrust and fired his weapon point-blank into the warrior’s face. The bolt flew true and the barbarian flew backward – stone dead!

_(DM’s Note: This was one BOLD move. Sextus, low on hit points, braved an AoO to load and fire his crossbow. It worked and he felled an enemy!)_

Now bleeding from a score of wounds, the bear of flesh nevertheless scored a series of telling blows on the spectral bear, tearing great chunks of smoky essence from it – the outline of the ghostly bear began to waver. The archery of Quintus and Rowan, along with the blades of Rosë, were rapidly thinning the ranks of the tribesman. Lew yelled down from the roof to inform everyone that the rope was secure. Sextus, fatigued from his climb up the hill, bleeding from a serious wound and on the edge of complete exhaustion, let his guard slip for just a moment – but that was enough. A barbarian’s blade pierced him deeply and he fell to the floor, dying.

Quintus heard his brother cry out, crouched and looked down to the lower level. He yelled in anger and sent a missile of magical force slamming into the tribesman that had just dropped Sextus. A double-thrust from Rosë finished the man and Quintus bellowed for Lew to get to Sextus. Rowan sent another warrior crashing to the ground with a well-placed arrow.

The inner courtyard was beginning to resemble a slaughterhouse. Blood spattered the walls, bodies, entrails and unidentifiable lumps of flesh were strewn everywhere. With a tremendous effort, the solid bear lunged forward and clamped down on the throat of the spectral bear, its jaws slamming shut with crushing force. The smoke-gray form of the ghostly bear lost its coherence and faded away, accompanied by an inhuman cry of torment from just beyond the second gate. With a ghastly howl of triumph, the crimson-streaked bear of flesh swept its savage claws down into the remaining tribesmen, tearing two of them asunder.

It was too much for the remaining barbarians. Their spectral totem gone, the dozen or so that remained turned and fled out the second gate – all save one. One blood-soaked warrior stood in the gateway, clutching a huge axe. With a cry of anger and despair, he charged forward, avoiding the sweep of the bear’s paws and buried his axe in the creature’s midsection. The huge animal swayed for a moment, then slowly - like a great, hairy tree - toppled forward, crushing the warrior beneath it. The bear gave a huge shudder and went limp.

Rowan launched an arrow at the back of the fleeing tribesmen, but it sailed wide. Lew reached Sextus in the nick of time and called upon one of his few remaining miracles to stabilize the gravely injured bard while Quintus looked on worriedly. Rosë, bleeding and exhausted, staggered from the tower to find the shape of the bear subsiding in a shimmering green glow. The glamour ceased, leaving a small, brown-cloaked form – pierced by many javelins and rent by numerous cruel axe blows – in its wake. The Brigante stumbled forward and fell to the ground beside Asralla’s bloody body, fumbling in his pouch for a healing draught.

Her eyelids fluttered and opened, fixing him with her dark eyes. She spoke in a rasping voice, coughing blood as she did, “My love…I have done wrong…you must return this to my people.”

She pressed a heavy necklace made of huge bear claws, intricate beadwork and delicate green feathers into his trembling hand. He tried to pour the healing draught into her mouth, but she coughed up another gout of blood as he did so and most of the liquid fell to the ground. Summoning the last of her strength, she whispered, “Take care of our son…”

Her voice trailed off as her body gave a convulsive heave then relaxed one final time. The empty healing vial slipped from Rosë’s nerveless fingers as great, silent tears of sorrow streamed down the barbarian’s face.

Inside the tower, a pitiful wail rose from the forgotten bundle that Rosë had so carefully placed in the corner. Quintus, Lew and Rowan looked at each other in stunned amazement, then the sorcerer stepped over to the bundle and pulled some of the cloth back. He had heard that cry far too many times growing up! The fallen flap of cloth revealed the chubby face and open mouth of a two-moon old baby calling for food and comfort!

*To Be Continued...*

*Next: Session 6 (Part One) - Sacrificial Lamb?*

Old One

_(DM’s Note: The players were pretty much on the edge of their seats through this entire session. You could actually feel the tension building as the PCs were pursued through the fog, made it to the fortress and then kept falling back. There were a couple of times that the barbarians ALMOST caught them – but the judicious use of sleep spells by Quintus and some good opposed rolls pulled them through. The look on their faces when they realized the twist at the end was priceless! Definitely looking forward to our next session!)_


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## Old One

*Interlude - Rowan's Log*

Greetings All!

Whenever I get a write-up from one of my players, I always like to post it here! This is the action from Rowan's viewpoint:

*Rowan's Story*

_We were tracked the entire way out from Glynden. Each of us was becoming edgy, and the violent rainstorm didn't help. Having reached what we thought to be the best drop point in the thick drifting fog we came face to face with a large war-party of Nervi and Almani tribesmen hot for our scalps. 

The timing could not have been better for the assassin that had dogged our steps. As we released Kothric and began trying for a hasty retreat into the fog, a poisoned arrow sliced out of the woods striking him down. It was all we could do, pouring healing draughts upon healing miracles and treating the wound to try and keep him in this world. I'll find the bastard responsibleif I have to track him from Oar to the Northern reaches and everywherebetween.

Things only got worse. It was obvious the tribesmen wouldn't stop toquestion us until our heads were separate from our bodies, and Kothric was in no shape to speak for us. Somehow I feel he would have had he been conscious. During the trip to return him to his people I think he began to realize we meant him no harm, and maybe, just maybe he gained a small bit of respect for us because of it. At least he seemed to appreciate Sextus' humor and good nature. He also seemed to warm to Quintus except for that bit of a spooking he got when presented with tales of the shadowlord and offered the medallion. Too bad Kothric stayed unconscious. Without his word we were mere foxes to be run to ground by the hounds, and run we did.

Rose caught sight of the assassin a couple of times, but the wily devil still slipped away in the direction of the ridge line where we eventually found an old fortress. Good thing it was there. It bought us time, but then if not for a miracle of Corellion even the fortress wouldn't have saved us. Somehow Rose's lover, the one that caused all the barbarian trouble to start with, turned up, babe in arms, inside the fortress. I'm sure the assassin is in the fortress too. I don't think it was her. Nobody's good enough to shoot and run while also carting around a suckling infant, and manage to ditch the bow where it can't be found when cornered. Besides, it was that woman, touched by Corellion, that turned into an enormous bear and saved us. I was
expecting to die fighting in that fortress.

The barbarians won't stay gone long. Sextus is gravely injured, as appears to be Rose's lover. He and I also bear nasty wounds and I think Lew and Quintus may have injuries as well. We spent our miracles and healing draughts trying desperately to save Kothric. I hope that gesture doesn't go unappreciated, especially if the tribesmen recover their courage.

*~Rowan*_


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## Old One

*Interlude - Quintus' Journal*

Greetings All!

Here is Quintus' Journal from last session...

*Quintus' Journal*

_As usual, crows followed us west on our mission to return the captive barbarian Kothric to his people. We became aware of an additional watcher shortly after starting our journey. Rowan circled back a few times, trying to surprise this unwanted guest.

After several failed attempts we were forced to admit that this shadowy presence had woodland skills superior to ours. We decided to take no further action on the matter other than maintaining a sharp watch for activity.

Our course followed the northern edge of the Thuringen Wood. We kept its outer trees to our left and open plains to our right. Our intent was to follow this course for several days and free Kothric at the forest's eastern edge.

Through Lew's translation, Sextus kept up a running conversation with our prisoner. The barbarian seemed to find Sextus amusing. My brother has that effect on people. As his defenses dropped Kothric opened up a little. He told us that he was convinced our barbarian had somehow crossed the Thunder River and abducted Asralla, the woman pledged to marry Kothric whose affections Rose had usurped. He also accused Rose of stealing the "Artosiak" - a "Necklace of the Bears" important to savages that venerate the bear totem. Sextus recounted Rose's time in Glyndyn, mostly on a sickbed.

I believe Kothric accepted that Rose could not have abducted Asralla, a journey of many days, without us noticing.

I tried convincing Kothric that his people share a potential danger with ours. Something cold is starting to embrace the north. Spring is late. Chill winds blow. We recently located a shrine dedicated to an ancient evil. I attempted to persuade Kothric to take a coin, looted from the shrine, imprinted with Ashai's evil symbol. I wanted him to present this coin to his shaman as evidence of the growing evil. Kothric refused the coin, seeing it as a foul totem. However, I think he will relay the message.

Following Kothric's suggestion that it carried evil, Lew and I examined the coin more thoroughly. It has been infused with minor forms of Alteration and Abjuration magic. Another puzzle to be worked on later.

Concerns about ravens, shadowy pursuers, odd coins and other problems fled as we neared our destination. Rowan came to me gesturing toward a group of barbarians gathering on a ridge before us.

Our party erupted with conflicting suggestions on what to do. One thing I knew for certain, they should not see Rose. I urged him to hide in the forest and was relieved when he quickly complied. Rowan, Lew, Sextus and I were still debating our best course of action when Kothric spoke up.

"You go," he said.

His attitude toward us had been changing the last few days. Good treatment and Sextus' company had eased his hatred toward our group, Rose excepted.

We had no time to decide if his improving attitude included letting us live if we freed him.

The decision was easy. Our small group, mostly villagers, stood no chance of outrunning the savages. I removed Kothric's manacles. He looked at his hands then in the direction Rose had gone. I felt a moment's fear, then a surge of relief as he began calmly walking toward his people.

In the driver's seat of the cart we had been using, Lew quickly turned and headed home. No one argued. However, Lew's gaze immediately snapped back in Kothric's direction. The priest was off the cart and running toward the barbarian before I could turn and look.

When I did look, I felt utter horror. Kothric was face down in the mud, an arrow quivering in his lower back. Anger toward Rose surged through me - had the barbarian decided to resolve his dispute with Kothric? That misguided emotion was pursued
hard by a moment of clarity regarding our shadowy pursuer's intent.

I think all of us reached the same conclusion instantly. Rowan, Sextus and I all followed Lew in hopes of aiding Kothric. If he lived, maybe we would.

The others started pouring healing spells and potions into the badly wounded barbarian.

Cursing, I watched more and more tribesmen appear. In their tongue I yelled that someone was trying to assassinate their chief. My words were useless.

"Kill the Steelmen," issued from two score throats.

"Run!" I yelled.

Rowan took the lead, Sextus and Lew behind him. I stayed slightly behind to use my magic on any pursuers who came too close. Rose had disappeared.

The forested terrain sloped upward, making the running very hard. In between glances at our pursuit I could see Sextus and Lew flagging quickly. When they could run no longer, our party would stand and die.

Abruptly, Rowan shifted his course toward even higher ground. I trust the ranger and did not question his decision. One part of my mind imagined he had found a place of refuge. The rest of me struggled to embrace my own doom as I saw Sextus reach his limit. He came to a halt and doubled over, breathing in uncontrolled gasps.

I stopped by him and turned to face our pursuit. We brothers would die together. It seemed that this day the Scipio line, a family once honored by Emor's Emperor, would end on an unnamed wooded slope.

However, Sextus gazed in the direction of Rowan and the others. He grinned, seeming to draw strength from the sight, and loped off in their direction. Turning to follow, I saw the outline of an ancient fort the forest was slowly reclaiming. Its walls and towered were shrouded in ivy and ravaged with age. But by the Light, they were walls and towers!

Bursting through the entranceway, I saw that sometime during our flight, Rose had rejoined us. He and Rowan were convinced that someone had entered the ruins just prior to our arrival. They started hunting immediately; convinced that Kothric's assailant was here with us. Lew, Sextus and I struggled to seal the iron gate as our savage pursuers pushed from the other side. I heard myself screaming in frustration and fear as the beam that would bar the gate slipped from my hands and crashed to the ground. Rowan returned and the addition of his strength allowed me the time to 
recover the bar and seal the gate.

Ivy started shaking immediately as barbarians used it to climb the crumbling walls. This situation just seemed to keep getting worse.

I sent Lew and Quintus to open a set of doors that led further into the fortress. As our pursuers began to crest the wall I hit them with spells. I tried to be patient and use each casting to its best effect. However, my body quaked as some cruel part of my mind assessed my chances of survival.

One victim of my sleep spell dropped over the wall and into the courtyard with us. As he rose, shaking off both fall and spell, another of those thrice cursed black feathered arrows slammed him, apparently dead, to the ground.

Lew and Sextus started calling to me. They had opened the gate. I ran to join them as barbarians began swarming into the courtyard. They were forming up to charge when Rowan and Rose burst from a building to our right, hauling along a brown cloaked figure. With savages ready to slake their thirst on our blood just paces away, this struck me as an odd time to be taking prisoners.

They ran through the gates with such abandon that our whole group got tangled. The brown cloaked figure fell and issued a wail similar to one of my baby sisters. The coward had the nerve to shoot from hiding, but not to stand up to us.

*(Corey's note: Intent on scheming a way out of our situation, I totally missed the significance of the "wail." I was totally shocked at the end of the session when some of the less "lumpheaded" players explained it to me!)*

Despite the open gate and his charging brethren, Rose and his prisoner just kept running toward a third, and final, defensive enclosure. I cursed him and turned to sealing this gate. The barbarian charge slammed into the other side and it was immediately clear that we would lose the shoving match. I stepped back and loosed another sleep spell through the gate's opening. It had the desired effect and we got the bar in place.

*(Corey's note: Quintus really got peeved with Rose for running. I'm not a believer in the "lets all just get along" theory of party relations, as long as it is kept light and all the players are aware that it's just the PC. Out of character I have to say John does a tremendous job of playing Rose.)*

Rowan and I ran for the third enclosure, which was dominated by a large tower. I could see Rose kicking away at the tower's door. It gave way as Rowan and I reached the enclosure's gates. For the second time today I had vision of a bloody last stand.

Behind me the barbarians breached the gate, one bolted through and immediately engaged Lew. I hollered at the priest and Sextus to run, but in my heart I knew that Lew, our friend and spiritual pillar, was about to die. 

Sextus started to comply but something, perhaps a hero from one of his tales, possessed him. In the face of a massed barbarian charge, he calmly leveled his crossbow - the one whose sights are never aligned properly - and shot the savage who was preventing Lew's escape. Moving with speed and dexterity that I had never seen in him before, he dodged javelin and ax and the two safely entered the final enclosure.

Mother, yells I, would have to skin him for risking himself like that. After I hugged him for saving Lew, of course.

Rose had opened the tower for us and we quickly ran inside. A small ladder led to an opening in the ceiling. Rowan quickly went up. Sextus dove through the door and landed on the floor near me.

Now I saw Rose's prisoner. No, not a prisoner. She was something else. He looked at her with a softness I had felt only around Abrigal, my former fiancee. I was trying to process this when she shoved a bundle into Rose's arms and ran to meet the engage barbarians.

The next few minutes remain a hazy blur of action taken to fast to recall.

Outside, powerful magics erupted and two massive bears fought a brutal duel. I remember climbing to the second level and, firing through arrow slits, using my crossbow to kill at least three of the savages.

Everything came back into focus when, from the first floor of the tower, I heard Sextus groan. I stuck my head though the ladder opening in the floor just as my brother landed on his back below me. Blood washed freely from a horrific wound. A savage, with my kin's blood on his weapon, was turning to join a comrade who was already pressing a deeply wounded Rose.

I yelled for Lew, the only one among us who could save my brother. Summoning the last of my energies, I hurled a ball of arcane power into Sextus' assailant. He staggered, and the action distracted him enough for Rose to end him with a dagger thrust.

Displaying his usual talent for bloodletting, Rose finished off another savage who had forced access to the tower. As Lew pushed past me to climb down to Sextus, I heard the sounds of retreat from outside. It seemed that somehow we had fought off the attack.

Lew's hands glowed and healing energy flowed into Sextus.

My borther's eyes flickered open and stared straight into mine. I smiled down at him, feeling both relief and tremendous gratitude to Lew.

"Will this be good enough material for that epic song you are always ranting about, brother," I said.

That's when my ears picked up the sound of a baby crying.

*~Quintus*_


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## Old One

*Session 6 (Part One)*

When we last left our intrepid band, they had just fought off (barely) an attack by a mixed group of Nervii and Allmani inside an old hillfort. Rosë’s lover, Asralla, helped save the group by activating the totem known as the Artosiak although she perished at the end of the battle, leaving Rosë to deal with her loss and their two-month old son! Bruised, battered and low on spells – the heroes debated their next course of action.

*Sacrificial Lamb?*

Rosë knelt for a long time next to the cooling body of his lover, clutching the _Artosiak_. Rowan and Lew soon joined him, with Rowan looking expectantly at Lew to do something to help the barbarian woman. Lew quickly determined that she was well beyond his power and sadly shook his head. They left the Brigante to his grief and returned to the interior of the tower. Inside they found Quintus sitting on the floor – Sextus to one side and the crying baby on the other. After briefly regaining consciousness, Sextus had slipped into the slumber of the almost dead.

Rosë joined his companions in the tower, badly injured and heartbroken. Quintus showed him how to hold the baby (since he had lots of practice), then returned to the top of the tower to watch for returning barbarians. Meanwhile, Rowan and Lew moved to the small building that resembled an Abbey of _Osirian_. They found that it was indeed a small, simply appointed church. While examining the building, Rowan noticed several shallow grooves in the stone floor near the lectern. Surmising their purpose, the sharp-eyed ranger rolled the lectern back, revealing steep stairs that descended to a short hallway that ended in an alcove. They returned to others to appraise them of the “bolt hole” that they had just discovered.

During their absence, Quintus heard numerous horn calls coming from the general vicinity they had first encountered the tribesmen. When Lew and Rowan returned, he appraised the group of the calls and an intense debate commenced as to their significance and the next course of action. A variety of plans were discussed, including immediate flight, hiding in the alcove underneath the lectern in the church and sending an embassy to return the _Artosiak_ to the tribesmen. Rosë was quite adamant that he be the one to return the totem. He insisted that his actions, nearly a year before, had put everyone else at risk and that he should be the one to return the talisman and suffer the wrath of the tribes.

Quintus was just as adamant that he be the one to go – since the animosity shown by the tribes towards Rosë was so intense. In addition, the sorcerer reasoned, _IF_ Kothric still lived, then he might negotiate with Quintus, since there was a small amount of goodwill there. In the end, they decided that Lew, Rosë and Sextus would hid in the alcove while Rowan and Quintus attempted to locate the tribesmen and return the _Artosiak_. After gathering a small amount of equipment from the fallen barbarian warriors, the group split up.

Rowan and Sextus made their way down off the ridgeline, moving as carefully and quietly as they could. The morning mist had burned off and the spring sun was shining brightly. Halfway down, they heard another series of horn calls and the sharp-eyed Rowan spotted large numbers of tribesmen milling about in a clearing several bowshots away. The ranger’s heart sank when he realized that several score tribesmen were in the area – even more than they had battled earlier. He and Quintus beat a hasty retreat up the hill.

Meanwhile, Lew, Rosë and the unconscious Sextus made their way down to the alcove with the crying baby. Once they reached the alcove, two curious things happened. First, the infant, who had been crying loudly to that point, ceased its wails. Second, Lew was felt a powerful “presence”…he could not really put a finger on what it was, exactly, but he felt more at peace than he had in several days. Examining the alcove, he and Rosë determined there was the outline of a concealed door at the end. Lew gathered his holy power and directed it at the door.

A clear outline shone for a moment in a pale whitish-blue light, clearly delineating the door. Then the light sputtered and faded – the portal remained closed. Rosë set his shoulder against the door and pushed several times with all the strength that remained in him, but failed to budge the unyielding stone. Lew remembered reading about certain portals that required the recitation of a particular prayer or phrase, along with the channeling of holy power. Digging out his prayer book, the priest began to recite all of the prayers common to _Osirian_. Rosë, frustrated, badly wounded and tremendously fatigued, sat down on the cold stone floor, cradled his infant son in his arms and promptly fell asleep.

While Lew attempted to open the portal and Rosë dozed, Sextus stirred fitfully. The bard found himself in murky, tangible darkness. He pushed against it and soon found himself “swimming” through the darkness – a sensation akin to swimming through black oatmeal. Ahead he saw a pinpoint of blue-white light and moved towards it, stroke after stroke. As he neared the light, it flared brighter and a disembodied voice intoned, “Do you serve the light?”

Sextus replied, “I do!”

“Dost thou serve the light?”

The normally silver-tongued bard stammered, “I…I…I try to help people. I am kind to my family. I…I…I try to lead a good life.”

“Then speaketh – ‘I serve the Light’!”

The flustered bard called out, “I serve the light!”

Sextus felt a wave of peace wash over him and both the light and the darkness receded as he fell into a dreamless slumber.

Rowan and Quintus returned with the grim news of more barbarians gathering below. It was quickly decided that Quintus would await their coming at the top of the tower, while everyone else hid in the alcove. Since he was unscathed and still had some small amount of magic left, Quintus reasoned that he stood the best chance of escape if things proceeded poorly. 

Awkward “good-byes” were made and Quintus rolled the lectern in place after the others had descended into the alcove. Dusk was falling as he reached the top of the tower and he settled down to wait for whatever might transpire. He offered up a quick prayer to _Osirian_ to watch over his brother and the rest of his family.

The sorcerer did not have to wait long. As dusk met night, a long line of torches began snaking up the ridgeline. Within half a turn of the hourglass, three-score barbarian warriors marched through the gates and assembled before the towers. At their head was a tall, gaunt man dressed in furs with the pelt of a great bear covering his head and neck. In his left hand, he bore a gnarled wooden staff hung with all manner of fetishes. His eyes were bandaged and two bloody circles where visible at eye level. Two well-armed warriors guided the man. Angry muttering rose from the gathered warriors as they viewed their fallen brethren.

_(DM’s Note: Rosë took some time earlier to arrange the fallen tribesmen in the ritual burial position used by the tribes.)_

The muttering rose as Quintus cast a spell illuminating the area around him and revealing his position to the tribesman. The gaunt man raised his stave and commanded silence. The multitude quieted and the shaman looked up towards Quintus with sightless eyes.

“Where are the _Artosiak_ and the traitor? Produce them or die.” the shaman said in a cracked and raspy voice, barely above a whisper.

Not a very promising start to the negotiations, Quintus thought grimly. Taking a deep breath, the sorcerer began to speak.

He related, in Gallic, what he knew of the talisman, its theft and the respective role’s of Asralla and Rosë. He offered heartfelt condolences for the loss of the brave warriors that lay below. He told them that he, alone, of all the companions, remained behind to see that the talisman was safely returned to the rightful owners. For several minutes, he held the barbarians’ rapt attention as he continued his story, relating information about the mysterious assassin who had shot down Kothric. He reminded the shaman that they had used healing magic on the Warlord’s son and done everything they could to save him. He asked if Kothric lived and, if so, how he fared.

_(DM’s Note: I rolled the Diplomacy check for Quintus and rolled a natural ‘20’!)_

The shaman indicated that Kothric did live, but was still unconscious and he parried Quintus’ other assertions, insisting that Rosë had been involved with the theft and had bewitched Asralla, who now lay dead as well. Quintus stuck to his story and repeated that he wanted nothing more than to return the talisman and return home. Belsag stopped for a moment and conferred with his warriors in hushed, hurried tones. Quintus stood stock-still, sweating profusely and trying to prevent his bladder from voiding from repressed fear. Then, the sorcerer heard a scraping and rustling sound from the backside of the tower.

Visions of assassins and black arrows darted through Quintus’ head. In a panic, he called to the barbarians that he was coming down and he descended the ladders to the ground floor with all haste. He stepped into the shattered doorway and faced the throng of hostile faces, scarcely five paces away, heart beating out of his chest. The shaman whispered to the warriors on either side of him and took a halting step forward. The bodyguards raised javelins, sighting on Quintus. “Give us the _Artosiak_ or die!”

Quintus opened his mouth to reply and heard the scuff of boot leather against stone. Turning slightly, he saw a hooded and cloaked figure standing at the back corner of the tower. The glint of metal reflected in the light cast off by the tribesmen’s torches and the figure stepped towards him. The sorcerer managed to supress a scream, but both his bowels and bladder emptied in fear. The figure raised a hand…

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 6 (Part Two) – The Journey Home and Beyond*

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 6 (Part Two)*

*The Journey Home and Beyond*

Quintus began to shout. “There is the assassin! He is the one who shot Kothric! Aaahhh!”

The terrified sorcerer backed out the doorway as the figure approached and a dim recess of his brain identified the clink of metal-on-metal as the barbarians raised their weapons to cut him down.

The cloaked figure filled the doorway and a ringing command echoed across the compound. “ENOUGH!”

The figure’s hood fell away, revealing Kothric!

Quintus’ addled brain feebly attempted to grasp how the warrior had gotten behind him. The overwrought sorcerer could do naught but stand, slack-jawed and extend his right hand, which held the _Artosiak_ in a white-knuckled grip. The barbarian nodded at him with the slightest hint of a grin, to the talisman and pushed past Quintus to stand before the assembled tribesmen.

“The Steelman speaks the truth! I have come to know this!”

The Shaman’s face clouded over. “He has slain members of the people. He must die!”

“You do not command here,” Kothric replied. “We have our totem and it is well past the time we should be back across the Great Water!”

The Shaman opened his mouth again, but Kothric cut short his angry retort. “Do not dispute my will on this matter. There will be time enough to discuss this later.”

With that, he turned towards the stunned Quintus, nodded again and strode through the throng of tribesmen. Many looked at Quintus with undisguised hatred and fingered their weapons before grudgingly turning and following their leader. Last to go was the Shaman and his bodyguards. Quintus felt that even though the holy man’s eyes were bandaged, the Shaman could still see him. Within a few grains, Quintus was alone in the inner courtyard with his whirling thoughts and the dead.

He climbed back up in the tower to ensure that the tribesmen were truly gone. Satisfied, he rushed to the small church and rolled the lectern back, hastily descending to join his companions. He breathlessly related his tale and if any of his companions noticed his stained trousers, they didn’t let on. They quickly decided to stay in the alcove overnight, to give everyone a chance to rest and recuperate. The night passed uneventfully, save for some muffled noises above during Lew’s watch.

The following morning, Lew called upon several favors of _Osirian_ and returned Sextus to wakefulness. He also prayed to _Osirian_ to allow him alter one of his miracles – one that allowed him to create water – into milk suitable for the baby. He performed the miracle, but it produced only cool, clean water. Quintus feed it to the baby and it seemed to soothe the infant somewhat.

Once he was up, the irrepressible bard began babbling immediately about his dream. The others informed him of their inability to open the portal at the end of the alcove and he suggested they try the phrase the “presence” had bid Sextus speak. Lew shrugged, gathered himself and channeled the holy might of _Osirian_ towards the door while shouting, “I follow the light!”

The outline around the door glowed brightly and the stone structure slid open silently. The lantern light revealed a large chamber with about 40 burial shafts sunk horizontally into the wall in vertical rows of three. Bodies swathed in burial clothes occupied most of the shafts and a large metal disk lay in the center of the floor, runic inscriptions running around the diameter. The air was stale and dry and Quintus commented that the chamber had probably been sealed for many years.

He and Lew made their way carefully into the room. Lew determined that the carved runes were a dialect of the Celestial tongue, but he had difficulty deciphering the exact meaning of the words. While they examined the writings, Sextus cast Detect Magic and focused his attention on the metal disk. The spell indicated that it was magical and Sextus soon picked up strong Necromantic emanations. Suddenly, a bluish-white mist started rising from the center of the metal disk!

“Brother!” Sextus called out, “The disk is giving off a strong aura of Necromantic magic.”

Quintus and Lew looked at each other in alarm, then bolted from the chamber in unison. Behind them, the mist began to coalesce into a shadowy form. Sextus made out vaguely human features before Lew called again upon the strength of _Osirian_ and intoned, “I follow the light!”

The portal, dimly glowing, swung silently back into place and blocked their view of the burial chamber. “Perhaps we can come back and check on this later,” Lew mumbled. The others nodded in mute agreement and then they gathered their meager belongings and prepared to depart. Rowan exited first, short sword ready. He found nothing…no war band, no assassin…just a slight breeze that heralded the arrival of a gentle, but steady, rain.

The others exited quickly and decided to search the rest of the compound for any usable foodstuffs or equipment, especially grain that they could use to make a thin broth for the baby. Once they exited the underground alcove, the child began to cry immediately with great wails of hunger. They noticed that all of the bodies were gone and Lew surmised that the barbarians had returned during the night and spirited them away (even Asralla’s).

After a half-hour of searching, they located an old storeroom with some rotted grain in moldy sacks. Lew instructed the others to fill several pouches with the grain and indicated that he could purify the grain with a minor miracle before they cooked it. While the others searched, Sextus wandered about the hill fort, examining the various structures and looking for clues as to its origin. He determined that it was an outpost for an auxiliary cohort (probably the 2nd Cohort of the Rustica Auxilia) and had been abandoned for at least 30 winters.

As the others prepared to depart, Sextus stood in the center of the outer courtyard and boomed, “I hereby claim this holding for the family Scipio!” Turning to Quintus, he quipped, “There brother, that should solve our family’s housing problem…plenty of room here!”

Quintus shook his head, suppressing a grin. “Not a bad idea, Sextus. We shall have to think on that.”

With that, they departed the hill fort and headed for home, Rowan in the lead. The journey back to Glynden was uneventful, save for the occasional appearance of the pesky raven(s). Rowan secured several bird eggs at the start of each day. The yolks were boiled with the purified grain and water provided through _Osirian’s_ miracles to create a very, very thin gruel to feed the child with. The solution seemed to work well, since the baby’s bowel movements were both regular and fragrant.

They saw no sign of pursuit, either from the barbarians or the assassin, but were slowed by constant rain and frequent stops for feeding Rosë’s son. During the journey, Quintus inquired as to whether or not the lad had a name. After thinking on it for some time, Rosë said that the child’s name would be Gordius Vercinox, after Rosë’s father and grandfather.

That required additional explanation, since Rosë indicated early in their relationship that his father was unknown. The others shook their head in amazement as the Brigante revealed more of his heritage. Sextus immediately recognized the name Gordius, but could not place it exactly. Rosë said that Gordius had been a great Warlord of the Steelmen and that jarred the bard’s memory.

Gordius was a tribune of senatorial rank that had been mustered out of the Legions for “accounting irregularities” just before Emperor Legatus IX recalled them. He stepped into the power vacuum created by the departure of the Legions and created a short-lived “Empire” centered on the city of Lords. Styling himself the “Emperor of the North”, he led a large army into the Western Wilds, shortly after taking power to “teach the heathens a lesson”.

The expedition was a disaster. Ambushed by a coalition of tribes, the army of the “Emperor of the North” was decimated and less than one hundred of the 25,000 men that followed Gordius across the Thunder River returned. His rashness stripped most of the rest of the able-bodied men from the Theme, making it easy prey for subsequent barbarian attacks. Everyone assumed that Gordius (and his enchanted blade) were lost with the rest, but Rosë claimed that Gordius had been captured by Vercinox, Warlord of the Brigantes, and kept as a slave. He won the heart of Gailia, daughter of Vercinox, and soon begat a child upon her. Furious, Vercinox had Gordius thrown into a pit with wolves, but he slew them with his bare hands. Then Vercinox had him staked out on the “Hill of Sorrows” for the eagles to eat, but he loosed his bonds and escaped. Rosë concluded his story by saying that he didn’t know what happened to Gordius after that, but that his mother, Gailia, thought he had escaped back to the land of the Steelmen.

Sextus, who had been following the tale closely, stopped for a moment and said in disbelief, “Let me get this straight. Your father is the so-called ‘Emperor of the North’ and your grandfather is the Warlord of the Brigantes?”

Rosë stopped for a moment with a perplexed look on his face. He had never really thought about it that way before. A sheepish grin spread across the huge barbarian’s face and he began to blush. He nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Sextus shook his head slowly, “Rosë, are there ANY other secrets we should be aware of?”

It took them five days to get back to Glynden and they arrived cold, wet and tired. Rowan slipped away to visit his mother, Lew made for the Abbey and Sextus, Quintus and Rosë went to the Scipio home. A lump of fear caught in the brothers’ collective throats as they found their family’s ramshackle house empty and abandoned…

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 6 (Part Three) - The Joy of Family*

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 6 (Part Three)*

*The Joy of Family*

Quintus, Sextus and Rosë rushed to the Abbey. They were tremendously relieved to find that Father Thomas had arranged to house them in a small caretaker’s cottage behind the Abbey, in exchange for housekeeping and cleaning help. Their relief was tempered by two other pieces of unwelcome news. First, their father had slipped into a coma several days before they arrived back in Glynden, shortly after his last dose of krithroot. Secondly, their sister Sabrina had gone missing.

After leaving little Gordius in the care of Quintus and Sextus’ mother and sisters, the group quickly gave Father Thomas a synopsis of their adventure. They then sought out Kyndalyn to tell him of the delivery of Kothric, the battle at the old hill fort, the assassin and the loss of the buckboard and team. They also showed him the black, barbed arrow they had removed from Kothric. He examined it closely and seemed very troubled by the prospect of the unknown assassin. They also called his attention to the mysterious arrow that had warned the gnolls of the ambush Kyndalyn and the party had set for them some weeks before. Kyndalyn agreed to make inquiries about the arrow and told them he would try to smooth over the loss of the buckboard and team with the Council of Elders.

Rowan took the arrow to his sometime employer, Rivthyn the Bowyer to ask his opinion. Rivthyn indicated he thought the arrow was of Felevar make. He indicated that he would make some additional inquiries and study it further.

Meanwhile, Quintus and Sextus fanned out around town; making quiet inquires about their sister. As they proceeded, Quintus warned Sextus to be discreet. “Brother,” the bard replied with an injured look, “discretion is my middle name!”

After plying the tavern patrons with drink and song, quizzing the gate guards and talking with members of the militia, they discovered that her probable location was the Castellan Jucadius, about a 6-hour walk to the south. Furious with their wayward sibling, they made plans to travel to the villa the next day to fetch her home. Returning to the new Scipio quarters, Rosë reached an agreement with the Matron Scipio to care for the baby, including arranging for a wet nurse. Greatly relieved, Rosë retired to the tavern to consume large quantities of ale, mutton and potatoes.

Lew spoke with Father Thomas late into the evening, discussing the growing power _Osirian_ seemed to be infusing him with. The elder priest quizzed his acolyte for an hour or so. Satisfied with the answers, Father Thomas informed Lew that _Osirian_ had shown him great favor and that it was time for Lew to prepare to be elevated to Acolyte of the Second Mystery. Father Thomas smiled and told Lew to get a good night’s sleep, for he would begin the 3-day vigil of fasting and prayer the next day!

Quintus, Sextus and Rosë departed early the next day and traveled to the Castellan Jucadius. They were stopped at the gatehouse of the well-fortified villa by a pair of surly gate-guards and gruffly asked to state their business. The ever-diplomatic Quintus strongly encouraged the guards to send his sister out to speak with them. After a hasty conference, one of the guards departed, while the other continued to watch the trio with thinly disguised disdain. Sextus paced back and forth while Rosë glowered at the guard with his most intimidating look. Quintus remained calm and steady.

After fifteen turns of the minute glass, Sabrina appeared, escorted by the other guard. She was dressed in an elegant, low-cut emerald green dress that exposed far too much skin for Quintus’ taste. Halting before her brothers behind the still-lowered portcullis, Sabrina crossed her arms, tossed her hair and demanded petulantly to know what they were doing there.

“We were worried about you,” Quintus replied evenly. “Father has taken gravely ill, mother is beside herself and you have run off to be with Orsen Jucadius. This is all very unseemly.”

“I am tired of being cooped up in that stuffy town,” she snapped. “Orsen loves me and treats me well. Look at the fine things he gives me.” She twirled gracefully as she spoke, revealing the open back of the dress. “Don’t trouble yourself over me. As you can see, I am perfectly happy!”

“What are his intentions towards you?” Quintus pressed.

“That is none of your business!” She replied haughtily. “You have been here and can clearly see that I am fine. Perhaps you should run along now, brothers.” With that, she turned and strutted away without so much as a backward glance.

Quintus, seething internally, said quietly, “Let us depart. We have found out what we came to find out. She has made her own bed – let her lie in it.”

He spun away and stalked down the trail. Rosë followed him, but Sextus stepped up to the iron bars. “Tell your master that if he makes my sister cry, he will pay dearly!” The diminutive bard whispered in a low, menacing tone.

The gate guards exchanged startled glances and slowly nodded their heads. Satisfied that Orsen Jucadius had been duly warned Sextus followed his brother and the barbarian down the path, whistling a bright and happy tune!


Most of the party spent the next couple of days purchasing new equipment, practicing new skills and honing their expanding abilities. On the evening of the third full day after their return, the joined Lew and a small gathering of the faithful as the cleric was invested with the status of Acolyte of the Second Mystery. At the end of the simple, yet moving ceremony, a small nimbus of blue-white light appeared above the cleric’s head. It circled lazily down to Lew, landed on his brow and flared brightly for a moment. A soft blue glow diffused throughout the room as Father Thomas presented the newly elevated Lew. Hearty congratulations followed and the band retired to Nan’s tavern for a celebratory dinner and to discuss their next course of action.

Several travelers had arrived from Oar the day before and told a harrowing tale of being assaulted by a mixed band of humans and gnolls near the ruins of Greenspire. The brigands fought under a crimson and black banner and had slain eight members of the group. The band hotly debated traveling to the area of the ruins, following up on the now-cold trail of “R” and the missing miners from Clan MacGlowen, returning to the hill fort or embarking on another quest.

They speculated that the bandits were somehow allied with “R” and the *Cult of Ashai*, since the livery that both possessed was very similar. The group decided to travel to the 5th and 6th mine traces, attempt to find “R” or the missing miners and perhaps refill their dwindling coffers.

_(DM’s Note: Three of the PCs advanced to 3rd level after Session 5 and training costs ate up much of their combined funds. Quintus loaned Rowan some money so he could complete his training in some new skills.)_

They set out at first light the next morning and were greeted by a beautiful spring day. They passed the spot of their initial encounter with Kothric and his small war band, but found no trace of the encounter or the large bag of mining equipment that Rosë was forced to drop and abandon during the battle. The ubiquitous raven made several appearances during the otherwise uneventful journey, although it stayed well out of bowshot.

Just outside the 5th mine trace, they came upon an abandoned mining camp of a dozen tents. All of the tents were empty and it appeared that most of the equipment had been ransacked. They did come across two torn tunics bearing the rust, green and brown plaid of the Clan MacGlowen. Just past midday, they slipped into the gaping mouth of the mineshaft. The initial cut opened into a wide chamber from which four other shafts radiated.

Choosing the right-most shaft, the group advanced cautiously, Rowan on point. The first shaft sloped down steeply and had a crude rope handrail attached to the right side of the wall with pitons. After descending 50 or so paces, the shaft ended. Several abandoned pick-axes and mining buckets littered the end of the shaft, but it was otherwise empty. They retraced their steps to the large chamber, although Rowan thought he heard a scraping sound as they reached the chamber.

Several minutes of inspection showed no signs of anything amiss, so they advanced to the next shaft and proceeded down it. This one was fairly level and Quintus picked up several trace veins of tin in the walls. After 50 or 60 paces, the shaft opened up into a very large, wide chamber that bore signs of significant recent digging. Again, several buckets, spades and pick-axes were in evidence – but no miners or signs of a struggle. Increasingly nervous and perplexed, they made their way carefully around the chamber, circling from right to left. They found another shaft leading out and Quintus’ experience told him that it probably led back the entrance chamber and was the third of the four shafts.

They hadn’t gone five paces into the shaft when Rowan heard a noise echo from up the shaft. Weapons were readied and the group closed their formation. Rowan couched low and moved forward, short sword ready. About ten paces from the end of the shaft, he felt his left hand hit something. Looking down, he saw, to his horror, that his left hand had hit a thin metal tripwire, which was attached to the wall on each side by a metal ring. Fortunately, he had not pulled the wire loose!

After a hasty conference in hushed tones, they decided to return to the second shaft and depart that way. Again, Rowan heard faint noises ahead and proceeded with great caution. Unfortunately, he discovered another tripwire and this time, he pulled the right hand ring from the wall. The ring landed on the stone with a faint tinkling sound that echoed loudly in the ranger’s ears.

Rowan froze in place, tensing his body for whatever diabolical trap as going spring on him. After several moments, nothing happened. Rowan breathed a tentative sigh of relief and waited a little longer, his mind turning rapidly. “This was not here when we passed through the first time,” he said quietly to his companions, “else we would have tripped it before.”

He stood, flattened himself against the right hand wall and inched past the area the tripwire was in. Still, nothing untoward occurred. He waved the others forward to his position. One-by-one, they slipped by the spot and soon all were clustered near the mouth of the shaft. Rowan turned to his friends, fear reflecting from his eyes in the lantern light.

“Someone…or something…is stalking us!”

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 7 (Part One) - Of Crossbows and Kobolds*

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 7 (Part One)*

When we last left our intrepid band, they were creeping around the 5th Mine Trace and had encountered several tripwires and kept hearing faint scuffing noises. Unnerved and paranoid in the extreme, they contemplated their next course of action.

*Of Crossbows and Kobolds*

After carefully bypassing the area around the 2nd tripwire, Rowan led the group back out into the main entrance chamber to the mine. A quiet, yet heated discussion began as to their next course of action. Lew and Quintus were both spooked and wanted to leave the mine immediately, since something was obviously following them around and setting some type of trap behind them. Sextus argued that leaving an “unknown” behind was foolish and they should deal with whatever was stalking them now, rather than wait until later. Rowan and Rosë were non-committal. Quintus, suddenly aware that their whispered voices were echoing through the mine chamber, suggested they take their discussion outside.

With Rowan leading, they moved back to the abandoned mining camp, formed up in a defensive circle and prepared to continue their discussion. The sharp-eyed Rowan noticed a large raven perched in a tree watching them. This time, however, the foolish bird had chosen to perch within missile range. Both Rowan and Rosë snapped off quick shots with their bows. Rosë’s arrow sailed wide, but Rowan’s aim looked true, arriving just as the raven took to wing. Several black feathers drifted earthward and the bird let out a panicked squawk, dove low to the ground and flew northwards with all possible speed, quickly passing out of range. “That’ll teach you to spy on your betters,” Rowan mumbled. “Take that back to your mistress!”

The group quickly returned to their discussion. Quintus and Lew pressed for returning to town, then traveling south to Oar. Quintus enumerated the reasons:

To warn the caravan traveling up from Oar about the possibility of a major bandit attack

Peruse the library at the Cathedral in Oar about the Cult of Ashai and get a better idea about what they were dealing with

Attempt to find Lew’s brother Marcus and affect reconciliation between them

Rowan nodded in agreement and Rosë shrugged his massive shoulders. Sextus, however, argued vehemently that they should at least try to find out what was stalking them, commenting, “I would rather deal with this now, while alert and prepared, than have something attack me when I am in my night clothes on the way to the privy!”

After a few more minutes of discussion, Quintus and Lew grudgingly acquiesced and they prepared to return to the mine. Rowan led, as usual, but they placed Rosë at the back of the formation to deal with anything that tried to sneak up on them from behind. They moved off down the 4th and final shaft. Quintus illuminated the passage with arcane light every 20 paces or so to ensure they didn’t have to fight in the dark. They passed through a rather unstable looking area (although the Scipio brothers, utilizing their mining and engineering knowledge, pronounced that it was safe to proceed) and continued down the long mine shaft. Rowan noticed several faint tracks in some rock dust as they moved through a small chamber, but could not determine their origin. After a quarter of an hour, they reached the end of the shaft, which opened into a large natural cavern.

The party entered on a corner and the chamber stretched out ahead of them about 30 paces and to their right al least another 30 paces or more. Stalagmites and stalactites dotted the room and at least two massive natural stone pillars supported the ceiling eight or nine paces above their heads. Rowan thought he heard the faint trickle of water, but the sounded faded quickly. The dull glint of metal was visible just at the end of their lantern light directly ahead. After a hasty conference, Quintus and Rosë advanced to examine the metal object. They found 3 partially full mining buckets and a pick ax in the corner of the chamber, but nothing else. Quintus noted several cuts in the far wall of the cave that revealed rich veins of tin. The pair returned to the group, which then deployed and started moving across the cavern. “Stay alert, everyone,” Quintus warned. “This is a great place for an ambush!”

Prophetic words.

Rowan was 20 paces into the chamber when he caught a flicker of shadowy movement ahead. Rosë, Quintus and Sextus all heard a faint yipping sound. Lew was engrossed in the braided design on his boots and neither heard or saw anything. The chamber exploded in a flurry of flying crossbow bolts and chanted spells!

Before they could act, magical slumber overcame Rosë and Quintus and they slumped to the floor. Rowan ducked behind a stone pillar as several crossbow bolts flashed through the spot he had been standing. Numerous shadowy shapes, small and quick, flitted about the chamber, peppering the companions with missile fire. A confused battle ensued.

It soon became apparent that they were facing two groups of opponents, one that had followed them down the mineshaft and the other that was attacking from the darkness on the far side of the chamber. Arrows and bolts flew furiously back and forth while Quintus traded _Sleep_ spells with at least two hidden casters. Half the actions of the party were spent shaking slumbering companions back to wakefulness as Rowan, Rosë and Lew succumbed in turn. In addition, most were soon wounded by crossbow bolts.

Sextus took a moment to enchant a crossbow bolt with arcane light and launch it into the dark part of the chamber. The well-placed bolt illuminated several of the small creatures crouching near a small, round hole in one wall. Quintus (the only one with a good angle) saw them duck into the hole and close a hidden door. Meanwhile, the arrows and spells of the party started to turn the tide and soon half-a-dozen of the small creatures had fallen, either dying or asleep. Rosë engaged three of the creatures with arrow fire as they peeked their heads around the corner from the small chamber back up the mineshaft the party had passed though earlier. Quintus’ foresight in illuminating the area with arcane light helped the barbarian see his opponents, but their clever use of cover prevented him from damaging them seriously. The trio responded with equally ineffectual crossbow fire, although one did hurl a greenish arrow of arcane force at the warrior, causing a minor wound.

The rest of the party advanced across the large cavern. As they neared the spot several of their opponents had fallen, the small door opened in the wall and two heads poked out. Rowan made out reddish-brown skin and glowing red eyes with vertical black pupils on the vaguely dog-like faces. He brought his bow up to fire, but the pair disappeared into the tunnel with a startled “yip” and slammed the door shut. “I think these are called ‘kobolds’,” Rowan announced. “I remember the ‘Old Man’ describing them to me. He said they are pretty sneaky, use lots of traps and are pretty good miners.” 

Quintus and Lew converged on the area while Sextus moved to examine two others that had fallen by another pillar. The bard found one of the two was alive, but sleeping. After a short internal moral struggle, Sextus raised his crossbow and sent a bolt into the creature’s skull from half-a-pace away. The missile tore completely through the small head, spraying a welter of blood and brains across the floor. Near the other bodies, Lew retrieved one of the crossbows and some bolts from one of the dead while Quintus and Rowan watched the area of the hidden door. The ranger examined the wall, determining the outline of the door, but could not find a way to open it. Sextus joined them, eying another one of the fallen creatures, finger tight on his crossbow trigger.

A quick philosophical discussion ensued. Lew could not recall any church doctrine relating directly to kobolds, but he argued that they should at least take the creature hostage, question it and give it the chance to repent from its ways (if, in fact, it was evil). The Scipio brothers did not like the thought of any loose ends, but they finally agreed with Lew. “Well,” Quintus reasoned, “we can always make it walk in front and use it as a trap detector!”

Sextus moved to truss up the sleeping kobold while Lew covered him with a crossbow at point-blank range. The little creature work with a start, glowing red eyes darting about, but it offered no resistance. Quintus stepped forward and began to question the kobold in a low, menacing voice. It was soon clear the creature could not understand the sorcerer, but Quintus’ tone and manner were clear and the kobold started quaking uncontrollably and soon befouled itself. Quintus grasped the rope securing the captive roughly, hauled the little creature forward and motioned towards the secret door in the wall. The sorcerer made his intentions clear through stabbing hand signals and the terrified kobold scooted forward and used its snout to push a small section of stone at the juncture of the floor and wall. An audible click resulted and Quintus pushed open the unlatched door, revealing a narrow circular corridor little more than a pace across. 

_(DM’s Note: I rolled a 20 on Quintus’ intimidate check, for a total of 26! Needless to say, the poor kobold literally messed in its pants…)_ 

While the other four party members were bullying the poor kobold, Rosë’s opponents had ducked behind a corner and disappeared. After a minute or two, the impatient barbarian moved down the mineshaft towards the small chamber, long bow ready. When he reached the room, he found empty. Momentarily perplexed, Rosë quickly reasoned that there must be a secret or hidden door along one of the walls, since he could have seen any escape attempt down the hallway or across the room. He backed up several paces and readied an arrow to shoot at whatever emerged from the wall.

Quintus thought briefly about trying to crawl down the narrow tunnel but quickly discarded the idea. 'I just know there is a chamber back there filled with treasure,' the sorcerer mused to himself. 'I guess it will have to wait for another day!'

He moved back to the mine shaft to instruct Rosë to join him while Sextus called upon a magical power that allowed him to detect hidden and secret doors and began to slowly move around the chamber. Rowan kept watch on the hole and Lew guarded their trembling captive. Rosë turned slightly to speak with Quintus and failed to notice a group of kobolds sneaking down the mineshaft from the direction of the main mine entrance. 

He shouted in alarm as crossbow bolts landed all around, but they all miraculously missed. A shrill cry rose from the kobold group as one of the creatures fired a bolt into the back of his comrade’s head, killing it instantly. The barbarian gritted his teeth and fought of the desire to lay down and sleep as a kobold sorcerer targeted him with arcane slumber. Rosë reacted quickly, sending an arrow screaming down the hall and into one of the crouching crossbowman. The missile hit the unfortunate kobold high in the chest and tore through its right lung, killing it.

Quintus, at the extreme end of his range, responded with a sleep spell of his own, dropping the two remaining crossbowmen. The kobold sorcerer dropped to one knee and shook his fellows vigorously before springing to his feet and rushing back down the corridor, away from the barbarian and Quintus. The other two crossbowmen awoke, shaking their heads groggily, then followed their companion towards the mine entrance. Rosë fired at the retreating creatures, but the arrow skittered along the ceiling before dropping harmlessly to the floor. The kobolds disappeared around a bend in the mineshaft and were gone.

Sextus located another secret door on the opposite side of the room from the first and they induced their captive to open that one as well with threatening gestures. Their lanterns revealed a square-cut passageway, perhaps two paces by two paces, that led to some steep steps that headed down. Rowan again caught the faint sound of trickling water. Quintus left Rosë to guard the mineshaft and returned to get the others. They quickly agreed that the best course of action was to return to Glynden and let Father Thomas and/or Kyndalyn question their captive. They quickly salvaged what gear they could from their fallen foes, obtaining: several decent crossbows, some bolts, a handful of silver and copper coins, three freshly killed rats, two half-eaten rats and two half-eaten lizards. The kobolds’ armor was made of cured giant rat hides, with the tails still attached. They found no other talismans or symbols.

On their way out of the mine, they found another secret passage in the small chamber where Rosë’s earlier opponents had vanished. They left that one open (as they had all the others), reasoning that if they doors were closed when they returned, then the tunnels would probably be occupied again. Pausing momentarily to gather the useful gear of the kobolds that had fallen further down the mineshaft, the party hastened forward and exited the mine. Rowan immediately noted tracks and a blood trail leading of the northwest. The ranger estimated that five or six of the diminutive kobolds had departed in that direction. The companions briefly considered following the trail, but decided to return to town, question their captive and proceed based on that information.

They pushed hard to make it back to town before the sounding of the gate horn. About a half-hour from town, with twilight rapidly approaching, the tired band failed to notice a black speck dropping from the darkening sky. Sextus’ vision filled with flared black wings as a large raven, shimmering with a silvery sheen, swooped under his nose and hit the kobold that Lew was leading. Electricity crackled in the cooling evening air and the little creature’s body went rigid as sparks flew from its body. The bird cawed once, a taunting sound that seemed to be laughter, then began to flap away.

Momentarily surprised, Rowan and Rosë recovered and fired at the fleeing bird in unison. Both arrows found their mark and the bird careened toward the ground cawing and flapping weakly. The raven recovered just before it hit the earth and flew drunkenly towards the north. Quintus and Lew added their crossbows to the arrows of Rosë and Rowan, but all of the missiles flew wide and the raven disappeared into the gathering gloom. Sextus threw himself on the kobold, which was still throwing off small sparks, and attempted to stabilize the creature but it was too late.

Whatever secrets the little creature held in its mind were now gone. Dejected, frustrated and tired, the party deposited the smoking body in a small copse of trees before pressing on the final half-league to Glynden. Their steps quickened as they caught the smell from the evening cooking fires and they entered town ten turns of the minute glass before the sounding of the gate horn.

As he passed under the sturdy gatehouse, Quintus wondered to himself, 'How powerful is that bird’s master…?'

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 7 (Part Two) – Poison, Accusations and a Trial*

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 7 (Part Two)*

*Poison, Accusations and a Trial*

Over mutton and onion stew, the group pondered their next course of action. Sextus wanted to take several days to refine a fighting technique he had seen Kyndalyn the Younger use. Of course, he was short on funds (as usual) and hit Quintus up for the required coin. They decided to travel to the seaport of Oar, about three week’s travel to the south, for three purposes:

Research the library at the Cathedral of Osirian in Oar for more information on the Cult of Ashai
Attempt reconciliation between Lew and his brother Marcus
Warn the trading caravan of the increased bandit activity around the ruins of Greenspire
While Sextus trained, they put the down time to good use. They rented a mule and made several trips to the 5th mine trace to retrieve the abandoned equipment there. The teamster knew of their failure to return the buckboard and team from the Kothric affair and levied a very large deposit. As they approached the site for the third time, they saw a thick column of black smoke rising into the air. “Damn kobolds,” Quintus mumbled.

They didn’t even bother to go the rest of the way to the 5th mine trace, assuming the remaining supplies had been burned. The supplies they did recover, along with some weapons salvaged from the kobold fight, helped refill the ever-lightening money pouches of the party, due in large part to Luella’s skillful bargaining.

Quintus accompanied by Rosë, trekked south to the Jucadius villa to visit his wayward sister – after collecting small gifts from the rest of his family to show the girl that everyone missed her. Sabrina remained adamant that Orsen Jucadius was her true love and made it quite clear that nothing Quintus (or anyone else) could say would change her mind. She did accept the gifts, however, and Quintus thought he detected a small tear in the corner of her eye as she turned away. She also informed her brother that Orsen and the other “Swords” had departed for the Oar road earlier that day to search for the gnoll and human bandits. “Remember, Sabrina…you are always welcome in our new home.”

With that pronouncement, Sabrina broke and ran for the main villa. Satisfied that he had done all he could, he and Rosë returned to Glynden. Over ale at the inn that night, Quintus wondered aloud about his father’s condition. Lew set his mug down and replied, “Is it possible your father has been poisoned?”

Quintus sat motionless, flagon midway between the trestle table and his lips and stared at his friend. The sorcerer’s mind whirled with implications and incriminations. “Can you determine this?” Quintus asked in a quiet voice.

“Indeed,” replied the cleric. “A minor miracle from _Osirian_ can reveal the taint of poison.”

Within half a turn of the minute glass, they stood at his father’s bedside and Lew called upon the power of _Osirian_ to show any poison that affected the elder Scipio. “It’s there,” Lew said slowly, “it is very faint…but your father is definitely under the influence of some type of poison!”

‘Josephus!’ That solitary name burned through Quintus mind and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to immediately seek the woodsman out and denounce him. Father Thomas was quickly summoned and he confirmed his acolyte’s findings. “I apologize for not thinking of this earlier,” the abbot said quietly. “I didn’t even think to check for this.”

With an exterior calm that belied the rage building within him, Quintus asked Rowan to fetch Kyndalyn. With Father Thomas and Kyndalyn present, Quintus laid out his theory and accused Josephus of poisoning his father using krithroot or some other poison. “Josephus is a valued member of the community and I consider him a friend,” the constable replied evenly. “To what end would he do such a thing?”

“Perhaps to clear the way to court my mother or for some other purpose,” Quintus replied testily. “All I know is that no one but Josephus has had such an opportunity. I wish to make a formal charge against him!”

Kyndalyn looked uncomfortable with the prospect, but, after conferring briefly with Father Thomas, agreed to bring Josephus at first light to answer the charges. Temporarily mollified, Quintus quickly prepared for the “trial” the following morning. He arranged for Rowan and Rosë to guard the Scipio home, while he, Lew and his mother joined Father Thomas in the abbey’s infirmary with his prostrate father. Sextus he stationed at the infirmary door, in case the trapper, once accused, attempted to flee. Satisfied with the arrangements, he paced nervously, awaiting the arrival of Kyndalyn and Josephus. 

While they waited, Father Thomas, imbued by the light of _Osirian_, purged the poison from the elder Scipio’s body. The crippled man did not immediately regain consciousness and Father Thomas indicated that it could take some time to see if he would fully recover.

The woodsman knew something was afoot as soon as he entered the room. His eyes darted about, quickly assessing the situation. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed, hands dropping away from the hatchet and heavy fighting knife at his waist. He slowly withdrew a large piece of tobacco from his belt pouch, tore off a chunk, folded his arms across his chest and waited.

Kyndalyn cleared his throat uncomfortably and began. “Josephus, your service to the town these past few winters has been exemplary, yet we have a serious accusation before us. Quintus Scipio, will you please repeat your charges.”

Quintus felt the woodsman’s eyes boring into him in a cold and steady stare as he condemned Josephus for poisoning his father. He returned the stare, but felt an almost uncontrollable fear welling up inside him.

Kyndalyn spoke again. “Father Thomas will call upon a miracle of _Osirian_ to ensure that the truth is spoken hear. Will you, Josephus of Bremerton, submit to this?”

The trapper nodded, never taking his eyes from Quintus.

Father Thomas stepped forward and invoked the miracle of _Osirian_. An almost imperceptible glow filled the room and Quintus felt a mild pressure in his mind and knew he would have to reply truthfully to any question asked of him. He saw Josephus flinch ever so slightly and the woodsman’s jaw line set in stubborn defiance.

Father Thomas and Kyndalyn began to question Josephus. To Quintus’ amazement, the trapper denied any knowledge of or involvement in the poisoning of the elder Scipio. He answered in short, clipped tones, his rising anger apparent in his voice. He punctuated his answers with deliberate arcs of tobacco juice. Lew thought idly that it would take a lot of scrubbing to clean the infirmary floor!

Suddenly, midway through the questioning, a thought leapt unbidden into Lew’s mind. He hastily excused himself and departed, making for the Scipio home in all haste. He quickly conferred with Rosë and Rowan, then hastened back to the infirmary. He arrived just as Father Thomas and Kyndalyn exhausted their questions. Leaning close to Quintus, he whispered, “What about Abrigal?”

Quintus’ eyes snapped to his friend’s face and a look of confusion, mixed with frustration and anger, played across the sorcerer’s visage. Quintus cut off all further commentary in that direction with a curt shake of his head. He looked up to find Josephus staring at him, eyes dark with fury.

“Are we done here?” The trapper drawled, arcing a glistening stream of tobacco juice in the general vicinity of Quintus’ feet.

Kyndalyn and Father Thomas exchanged worried glances and the abbot turned to Quintus and shrugged his shoulders. “By the light of _Osirian_, I find no deception in his words.”

Keenly aware of the magic still suffusing the room, Quintus made a truthfully worded, if insincere, apology to Josephus. The trapper merely grunted in return and looked at Kyndalyn and Father Thomas, in turn, before returning his gaze to Quintus. Despite the venom in that glance, Quintus did not turn away, but returned in full measure.

Josephus strode to the door, where the diminutive Sextus stood guard. The bard held his ground for a moment, staring up at the broad shoulders and scarred face of the woodsman. “Mind if I leave,” Josephus said in a quiet, yet dangerous voice.

Sextus moved aside and Josephus left the infirmary, almost colliding with Rowan and Rosë, who were crowded around the door, ready for trouble. The trapper shot them a withering look before brushing past them and exiting the abbey. Kyndalyn, a pained expression on his face, looked from Quintus to the prone form of the elder Scipio and back again. With a slight shrug of his shoulders and a quick nod to Father Thomas, he slipped from the room.

Angry, disgusted and confused, Quintus felt blood suffuse his face with dejected embarrassment. “Come…the sooner we are on the road, the better!”

Father Thomas laid a hand on the sorcerer’s forearm. “This miracle is not infallible. It is difficult to overcome the compulsion of truth, but it IS possible. My sense is that Josephus was telling the truth, but I do not know that with absolute certainty. I shall look after your father and do everything in my power to speed his recovery.”

Quintus mumbled his thanks to Father Thomas and stepped to his father’s bed, where his mother sat quietly, holding her husband’s hand. ‘Father,’ Quintus thought fiercely, ‘I will discover the truth of this!’

He kissed his mother on the cheek and his father on the forehead, then swept from the chamber. In his wake, his friends exchanged worried glances with Father Thomas, then followed. The companions quickly gathered their gear and prepared for the long journey to Oar. They were so loaded down with provisions that they decided to purchase a mule to help carry their gear. Half a turn of the hourglass later, muttering that teamsters were the “true” bandits, they were prepared to depart.

“What should we name the mule?” Lew inquired.

“How about Josephus,” Rosë replied, a broad grin spreading across his face. “It’s the perfect name for an ass!”

“His name is Pratto,” Quintus said absently. Hitching up his pack, the dejected sorcerer squared his shoulders and started for gate, his mind whirling with implications and portents. Abrigal’s face swam before him, alternating with the grim face of Ned Gallway and the scarred visage of Josephus. 

Sextus lifted his voice, belting out a cheery marching tune as they strode down the switchback trail. To the east, the rising Eye of _Osirian_ framed the cloud-crowned summit of Dragonspire Mountain. Bright blue sky, marred only by a few high clouds, stretched overhead and spring flowers, heavy with morning dew, lined their path. The beauty of the morning was lost on Quintus, who struggled to banish dark thoughts from his mind. The journey to Oar had begun!

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 8 (Part One) - Return of the Table of Elemental Evil!*

_(DM’s Note: Thus ends Session 7! The next couple of sessions could prove to be most interesting, since the party is traveling out of their “nest” for the first time and the road to Oar is long and fraught with many dangers!)_

Old One


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## Old One

*Interlude - Quintus' Journal*

More commentary from the "scheming sorcerer" - Quintus.

Enjoy

*Quintus' Journal* 

_Before entering the cave I saw the crow, who I now believe to be Darkclaw the familiar of the mysterious "R," that is always following us. The bird was flying rapidly, as if to give warning of our approach. So when it became clear that someone was actively arming traps around us in the mine, my mind envisioned our powerful necromantic opponent. 

We quickly exited the mine's tunnels to regroup. Father Thomas' warning that our enemy is strong echoing in my mind, I advocated returning to Glyndyn. Sextus surprised me with his vehement argument for finishing our exploration of the abandoned mine. Points made, it seemed to me that the others were watching me to decide a course of action.

My indecision lasted only moments. In my youth my grandfather, Tribune Antonine Scipio, taught me a basic philosophy: "In fighting the enemies of Emor, may she bring light the world forever, you must be aggressive, decisive, and ruthless." Since the enemies he meant were the barbarians across the Thunder River, one of whom is now my companion, the memory held some awkwardness. I also thought of the staff of rank, touched by the emperor's hand, given to my great-grandfather Senior Centurion Manlius Scipio for his heroism. I saw it once in my life, just before it was sold to cover grandfather's drinking debts. Written on its shaft was "Who dares wins."

We would go back into the cave.

We rearranged ourselves, placing the barbarian at our rear where his bravery and strength would be immediately available against our shadowy pursuer. Every sixty feet, I dropped a light spell to ensure that anyone behind us would not have the comfort of concealing shadows.

We progressed into the tunnels, exploring a few areas where mining picks and buckets had been dropped. Work had obviously halted in disarray. Roget Crow, my mining team foreman, would have skinned me had I treated my tools in such a fashion. Crow is a good man, but in Bigglestrom Braithwaite's mine, tools are of greater value than miners.

We came to a large natural cavern. Stalactites and stalagmites, damp with mineral laden moisture, were scattered around the space. Our lantern's light failed to reach far enough for us to see the cavern's opposite wall. 

"Be careful, this looks like a good place for an ambush," I said.

Rose and I, covered by Rowan's bow, ventured in to investigate a shiny object Rowan had noticed. It turned out to be a pick. Finding nothing lurking behind the cavern's stony pillars, Rose and I, now joined by Sextus, began to press further into the darkness.

Suddenly, I felt as if I was being roused from a deep slumber. Groggily opening my eyes I found I was flat on my back. Sextus, alarm on his features, was simultaneously trying to shake me and point his crossbow at an unseen assailant. The ambush we were tensely awaiting was sprung. From the tunnel behind us and the darkness to our front, short reptilian creatures revealed themselves. They made yipping sounds at one another while launching crossbow bolts into our position. 

The action was brief and confused. I lobbed a couple of Sleep spells at our attackers. Between my magic and my companion's missile we quickly dropped the four beasts visible in our front. 

Their mage, still unseen, made his presence felt by dropping Rose into an arcane slumber. Rose's position in the cave ruled out the spell coming from the tunnel to our rear.

I yelled, "There are more of them in front of us!"

Thinking fast, Sextus magically illuminated a bolt and fired it into the darkness at our front. That revealed two more of the creatures, who looked both surprised and uncomfortable as our weapons began to swing their way. The almost tumbled over each other escaping into a hole they had cleverly concealed in the cavern wall. 

We now controlled the cavern. Rose, roused from his slumber by Lew, seemed to have the beasts in the tunnel on the defensive as well. As we advanced on sleeping and dead creatures lying on the cavern floor, that little hole popped open again. Surprised, the little beastie who had been set to emerge, disappeared back into his hole.

"I think these are kobolds," Rowan announced.

That meant little to me. They had sought to kill us, so my conscience was untroubled when I told Sextus to finish off those I had put to sleep while I tried to help Rose. The barbarian was engaged in trading missile fire with some of the kobolds who remained in the tunnel. They retreated before I arrived at his side.

Returning to the others, I found that Sextus had finished off one slumbering kobold, but had hesitated at the second. Lew was presenting moral arguments about no clear church position that kobolds serve the shadow. According to him, we should be merciful to the creature and allow it the chance to embrace the light.

I like Lew and have grown to respect, if not fully agree with, his idealistic morality. His church has recently provided housing for my family, an action that has done much to erase my earlier qualms regarding Osirian and the Church of the Light.

I shot Rowan a questioning glance and his return look seemed to indicate that we should not kill the beast out of hand.

Sextus had tied the creature in ropes. Inspiration hit me. Doing my best Roget Crow, he is a master at turning tough miners into quivering children, I began asking the creature questions. I turned my face red, struck tough looking postures, and tried to imitate that tone of barely contained murderous rage that Crow uses. The effect was obvious. Cowering, the beast voided itself. The odor had a pungent, not quite digested rat aura to it. For a moment, I sympathized. Days before, standing alone on the crumbling tower of the Emorian fort, watching thousands of torch bearing barbarians bent on mayhem marching towards me, my bowel control had similarly deserted me. I am after all just a mine laborer, not some hero like my ancestors.

"Fine," I said, "we can tie a rope around its neck and let it lead us back out. It can set off any traps its friends may have left for us."

We managed to get our hostage to open the concealed door. The tunnel behind was cramped and would require us to crawl if we wanted to venture down it. Certain we were missing finding a desperately needed treasure horde, I conceded to my friend's advice and did not proceed. Using a spell he never told me he knew, Sextus located another concealed door. Upon opening it, flowing water could be heard but we decided against investigating it in the cramped quarters of the tunnel behind the door. 

There was another brief flurry of violence as the kobolds in the tunnel tried to take advantage of Rose's minimal attention span. A few arrows from him and another sleep spell from me succeeded in driving them off.

With our guest up front, we made our way back out of the cave.

Then, putting the beast in the center of our line, we began to make our way back to town. We would allow the town elders to decide the kobold's fate.

As we walked the kobold, who was just behind me, screamed. Crossbow ready I spun around only to see a black blur streaking away from us. With their quicker reflexes, Rose and Rowan launched arrows at the black crow and feathers flew. The cussed bird, stamina enhanced by its bond to its master, managed to remain in the air and fly weakly out of range. 

Looking at the kobold's remains I could see the results of a spell mage's call Shocking Grasp. The spell had been delivered with deadly effect by Darkclaw. 

Lew, having decided the creature did not knowingly serve the shadow, suggested we bury it.

Grunting, Rose picked up the corpse and flung it into the woods. "Rest in peace," he said.

An uncivilized and barbaric response but it was fine by me. I started back to town.

On the way, we decided to head south to investigate the Gnoll raiders we learned of a few days ago. Also, we will journey to Oar, to research the *Cult of Ashai* and see if Lew can repair his relationship with his own brother who resides in city's cathedral.

During this conversation, Sextus said, "You know, in Oar they are so rich that there are boards on the street so you don't have to walk in the mud when it rains."

I shook my head, what an imagination he has.

"Yea, right," I responded. Turning my head to Lew I said, "You know, he really does go on some times."

Rose added to the fantasy by suggesting that maybe they also have toilets with running water to clean the debris away. We all laughed. 

Back in town, Sextus told me he wanted to train with Kyndalyn, but was short of funds. Used to my brother's amazing ability to make denarii disappear, I gave him the money - exact change only.

While Sextus trained, the rest of us rented a mule and retrieved some of the empty tents the Monrovian's had left at the mine trace. After two trips, the remaining equipment was burned, probably by the surviving kobolds. They wanted us away from their home. Then Rose and I made the three-hour trip from Glyndyn to the Jucadius residence with gifts from my siblings to our petulant sister. Sebrina remained defiant, insisting my rival Orsen Jucadius loves her and will always treat her well, but she accepted the gifts. I had told my sisters to send things that might make Sebrina miss our home. They did a good job apparently because the presents seemed to spark something in Sebrina. I reiterated that she is welcome to come home at any time and returned to town.

There, I pondered my father's coma. The possibility that it was induced by poison was suggested to me. I raged.

Father Thomas, almost dragged to my home, confirmed that indeed my father, Lucius Scipio- renowned for his mining skills and permanently crippled when a shaft collapsed-had been poisoned. The immediate suspect was the trapper Josephus of Bremerton, who provides the narcotic kithroot that I detest to my mother, who then gives it to my father. 

Kyndalyn, in his role as town marshal, and Father Thomas agreed that Josephus would be questioned in the morning. 

The next morning we gathered in the abbey's infirmary. I had left Rose at my house to protect my family and his infant against possibly reprisals from Josephus if the trapper had learned of our suspicions. Then, picturing the lusty barbarian alone with my sisters, I urged Rowan to stay in my home as well. Rose is a good man, but he is not given to exercising restraint over his many desires. Six Scipio daughters remain in our home. The eldest, twins Luella and Maxima, are sixteen. Luella is steady and shows no interest in anyone not born of the empire. Maxima seems taken with Rowan. Still a brother must be cautious.

Father Thomas first cleansed my father of the poison. With Osirian's blessing his magic succeeded and we are left to see if my father's body can recover and allow him to regain consciousness.

Then, Josephus was questioned. For this part I made sure Sextus, looking buff from his tough training, stood in the doorway to the infirmary. If Josephus bolted, he would have to go through my brother.

As Father Thomas cast his spell, I saw the trapper flinch. At the time the response seemed normal. I myself felt the power of the spell descend on me and knew I would be obliged to truthfully answer any question put to me.

Josephus amazed me by completely denying any involvement in my father's poisoning. His tone was strong and assured. His gaze both angry and steady.

Lew came to me. In my ear he whispered that Rose and Rowan had suggested that perhaps Abrigal, my former fiancee who has been missing for weeks now, poisoned my father. A storm brewed inside me. I almost punched Lew. 

Yes, Abrigal's interest in necromancy had caused our relationship to end, but she was not capable of poisoning my father. Lew's words brought to the front of my mind my fear that Abrigal, in her fascination with the dark art, has become involved with the evil woman known to us a "R."

No, not possible. Lew, Rowan, and Rose should keep their dirty thoughts to themselves. They meant well, but they do not know her like I do.

Mind only half present, I made an insincere, but truthfully worded, apology to Josephus. It was not well received. That does not bother me. That flinch he made as the truth spell was cast means something. Somehow, he shook Father Thomas' spell. I am convinced of that.

Feeling embarrassed that my accusations had apparently been proven wrong, I thanked Father Thomas and walked stiffly from the room.

"We are leaving, now," I tersely told my friends.

Returning home, I grabbed my kit. I left Luella in charge of the household and, accompanied by my companions and our newly purchased mule, named Pratto, tried to escape my anger and embarrassment by stalking out of Glyndyn's gates.

*~ Quintus Scipio*_

*Things fall apart; the center cannot hold
And we find no succor, in our low rolls.
We forgot to run, thought we were bold
now we will really sink
In Glyndyn's popularity polls.*


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## Old One

*Session 8 (Part One)*

When we last left our intrepid band, they had just gotten on the road for the three-week journey to the port city of Oar…the largest settlement left in the Lost Northern Provinces. Their objectives included: Reconciling Lew with his brother Marcus, researching the Cult of Ashai at the cathedral’s library and warning the trading caravan of bandit activity. Armed with a letter of introduction to the Bishop of Oar (penned by Father Thomas) and Pratto, their new mule, off they went!

*Session 8 (Part One) – Return of the Table of Elemental Evil*

_(DM’s Note: Early in the campaign, the players christened our playing surface – a regulation 8’ x 4’ pool table – *The Table of Elemental Evil* - so named with the help of EN Board member Lela. It was so named because of the combination of atrocious die rolling on the part of the players and stunning successful die rolling on the part of the DM. After two PC deaths in Session 2, the players were convinced the table was cursed - at least for them. Several cleansing rituals later, they seemed to have conquered the table. As fate would have it, the evil construct of wood, slate and felt was only lulling them into a false sense of security! The horror follows…)_ 


The party departed Glynden in all haste. Quintus’ pride still stinging from the failed accusations against Josephus of Bremerton. The sorcerer wanted nothing more than to put time and distance between the troubles in Glynden. The rest of the crew was more circumspect, looking forward to the journey to Oar with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Rumors abounded of the hazards of the journey, but the promise of Oar was inescapable!

The weather was clear and warm – summer had finally arrived in the Northlands.

Toward evening on the second day, they passed the last boundary markers of the Cassuvius estates, the southernmost villa and plunged into the wilderness. The eastern reaches of the Thuringian Wood loomed ahead. Rowan took some time each evening to hunt and succeeded in bringing down several large pheasants and a small doe. Over roasted pheasant and venison, Quintus animatedly discussed the possibility of re-opening one or more of the abandoned mines and outfitting the abandoned legion fort – now named “Fortress Scipio” as a trading post for treating with the barbarians. He seemed determined to find a way to divorce Glynden from its dependence on the provenance of “Boss” Brathwaite’s mining company (and, by extension, Ned Gallway). The rest of the party listened intently, asked numerous questions and agreed to consider the ideas. Visions of a return to fortune for the family Scipio danced about Quintus’ mind as he drifted off to sleep that night.

The first hour of the morning’s march saw the party enter the Thuringian Wood. The forest, although not overly heavy, closed in on either side of them, limiting visibility and forcing them to close up their marching order. About three hours into the march, both Rosë (acting as rear-guard) and Sextus noticed a flash of blue cloth, stirring in the slight breeze, off the trail to the right. Careful inspection revealed a recently deceased older man, clad in the royal blue, burgundy and gold of Castellan Cassuvius. Quintus recognized him as a steward of the family – his cloak marked with the stylized lion head that was their symbol.

The cause of death was a gaping wound, from collarbone to navel, caused by a bladed weapon. The man had been stripped of valuables and had either crawled or been drug to the location before expiring. After several false starts, Rowan was able to backtrack along the man’s path. After traveling for several bowshots, the ranger made a gruesome discovery. The trail ended in a beautiful glade, complete with a picturesque waterfall, moss covered stones and pool of sparkling water. A gently flowing stream fed the pool and a small cart track paralleled the stream.

Unfortunately, the beauty of the place was marred by another corpse floating face down in the center of the pool and an ornate carriage, tipped onto one side, on the end of the cart track. A chestnut colored gelding lay dead in the traces and another body, head split from crown to jawbone, was slumped against the underside of the carriage, broken spear in his hand. The remains of several wicker baskets and ruined foodstuffs were scattered about. ‘A picnic?’ The ranger thought to himself. In the moss by the pool, Rowan found a clear print. Adrenaline surged through his body at the unmistakable sign…gnolls!

_(DM’s Note: Rowan’s first favored enemy is gnolls!)_

Backing away cautiously, Rowan quickly retrieved his companions and led them to the site. Searching the area, the band quickly determined that some type of attack or ambush had occurred, that the carriage probably held several other people that were unaccounted for and that the raiders had escaped to the west with the other trace horse and at least one captive. Rowan thought that 4-6 gnolls had been in the raiding party. Sextus and Quintus recognized the other two dead men as grooms of the Cassuvius household and determined that the carriage was the personal conveyance of family. They had also been stripped of all valuables and both haunches of the dead horse had been cut away – much as a butcher would prepare a sheep.

A quick discussion ensued over whether they should detour from their course of action to attempt a rescue. Quintus was concerned that by chasing after one or two hostages, they could be exposing an entire trading caravan (and the lifeblood of Glynden) to harm. Sextus countered that the _Swords of Glydnen_ were already enroute to warn the caravan, whereas the hapless captive(s) had no one they could rely on. After a quick vote, they decided to follow the trail of the raiders. An hour later, Rowan (in the lead as usual) called a halt as he caught the scent of roasting meat and heard the hated barking of gnolls yapping at each other.

The party went to ground as Rowan scouted ahead. The ranger took his time, moving carefully through the woods and even climbing a tree to get a better vantage point. He discovered the remains of a ruined villa, a crude thatched roof hut, rickety two-story barn and a paddock-like enclosure made of wood. Seven or eight paces from the barn was a haphazard stack of crates and beyond that, at right angles, was a tall hedgerow. Several other boxes and crates were stacked inside the paddock area, as were several bales of hay. Woodsmoke drifted skyward from the stone chimney of the hut and Rowan observed about half-a-dozen gnolls, well armed and armored moving about the compound – mainly between the hut and the barn-like structure. 

Several also entered the tumbled walls of the villa on one occasion. The ranger also observed a slender man emerge from the hut, issue instructions to several gnolls and then disappear back into the hut. All of the gnolls and the human wore crimson cloaks with black trim. Even after several hours of observation, Rowan did not see any sign of hostages, but felt that they were probably in the barn.

He returned to the group and sketched the area out in the dirt. They decided to attack before dark, since the gnolls ability to see at night would put the party at a disadvantage. They also decided to use the walls of the ruined villa to mask their approach and use a combination of Quintus’ potent _Sleep_ spell and one of Lew’s new miracles, _Silence_, to incapacitate as many opponents as possible. They divested themselves of everything but weapons and armor, Sextus fortified his brother with _Mage Armor_ and they crept forward into position,. They reached the ruins of the villa without incidence and readied weapons and spells. From their new vantage point, they saw a small pond between the villa and the hut. In addition, the walls of the paddock, although flimsy-looking, were about two paces high – providing partial cover for anyone moving between the hut and the barn. They heard some low voices and saw a gnoll and the human walking from the barn to the hut. Quintus gathered his will and quietly cast _Sleep_ on the duo. Both of them stopped for a moment, shook their heads and looked around suspiciously, hands dropping to weapons – both had resisted! Quintus rapidly cast the spell again, while the others opened up with a volley of missile fire. Unfortunately, the paddock wall prevented most of the bolts and arrows from striking true, although the gnoll slumped to the ground in magical slumber. The human yelled, “Atta…!” right before Lew’s magical silence dropped into place around him and he dropped to the ground before leaping toward the hut, slamming into the door and falling inside, followed by several errant missiles. As he exited the area of magical silence, the party heard, “Attack – we are under attack!”

_(DM’s Note: They say no plan survives contact with the enemy and truer words have never been spoken. The party’s initial plan was not bad, but they only scouted about half the battlefield before committing to an attack. The numerous walls of the villa, the paddock, the stacked crates and the pond really compartmentalized the battle area and made movement difficult from area to area. It also gave very good cover (50% +) to most combatants from missile fire. In addition, I rolled incredibly well for saves against Quintus’ spells. The DC for his Sleep spell is 14 and my first 4 saving rolls were 20, 16, 19 and 12! This got the party off to a very bad start!)_

Shouts, curses and growling issued from both the barn and the hut. Quintus zeroed in on the open door of the hut and let fly with another _Sleep_ spell – he was rewarded by the sound of falling bodies. Two gnolls emerged from the barn and ducked down behind the stack of crates. Sextus and Rowan fired at them ineffectually, Rosë broke cover and raced to the corner of the hut so he could fire into the paddock and then Lew called the blessing of _Osirian_ down onto his companions, which fortified everyone but Rosë.

Everyone heard a stream of invective issuing from the hut, along with the sound of scuffling and shouts in heavily accented Tradespeak, “Get up, damn you…get up and get moving!”

Two more gnolls exited the barn, jumped over the paddock fence and ran around behind the structure. Rowan managed to put an arrow into the backside of one as it topped the fence, but it kept moving. Sextus raised his vibrant baritone voice in song and all felt their spirits raise and their arms strengthen. Two humans, identically clad, tumbled from the door of the hut to crouch behind the paddock wall, followed by another gnoll. Presented with another grouping, Quintus called upon once again upon his _Sleep_ spell. The gnoll slumped to the ground, but the humans remained unaffected. Rosë, suspecting foul magic, looked closely at the identical looking pair and then launched an arrow at one. The barbarian’s aim was off, but one of the pair pointed towards him with a short sword…there were two of them!

Sextus and Lew traded missile fire with the gnolls behind the crates while Rowan moved to the back of the ruined villa to intercept the gnolls that had disappeared around the barn, rightly guessing that they were going to attempt to attack the party from behind. Above all the commotion, Sextus heard some faint, feminine cries for help coming from behind the crates.

In perfect unison, the slender humans, bearing short swords, rushed towards Rosë, who was still armed with his bow. One tumbled past him and sprang to his feet behind the barbarian. The other dropped low and struck hard, catching the surprised barbarian with a painful blow. Roaring in pain, Rosë flung his bow to the ground, unslung his great axe and swung wildly. His opponent ducked under the blow and the axe tore a huge chunk of wood from the wall of the hut. His ears filled with the derisive laughter of the two slight humans. Another gnoll emerged from the hut, paused to shake one of his sleeping fellows awake, then disappeared around the back of the hut, moving to flank the already flanked Rosë. Seeing that Rosë was hard pressed, Lew called upon _Osirian_ to provide a celestial ally and the Lord of Light responded by sending a large dog, surrounded by a nimbus of blue-white light, to aid his servant. Lew directed the canine to move towards Rosë and attack anything with a red cloak.

Sextus, alerted by the cries, clambered over the wall and raced towards the crates, singing all the while. Rowan heard the sound of the two flanking gnolls approaching and prepared to ambush them. The newly awakened gnoll vaulted over the paddock fence and charged towards Lew and Quintus. Lew sighted down his crossbow and sent a bolt into the charging gnoll. The creature stumbled, but continued forward. Quintus dropped his crossbow, called upon his power to _Shield_ himself and readied his short spear…unbloodied up to that point.

Meanwhile, Rosë was having difficulty. The tactics of the two humans completely confused the enraged barbarian – they feinted and alternated attacks like a pair of wolves. Soon, Rosë was bleeding from several serious wounds. His return strikes although driven by his powerful rage, lacked focus and his opponents kept dancing away from his blows.

_(DM’s Note: As we shall see…this is where things went really bad, really fast. The group had broken up into four different units. Lew and Quintus held the middle, but their missile fire was not very effective due to the level of cover their opponents had. Sextus had moved forward of the battle line to the line of crates. Two gnolls were on the other side. Rowan had moved to the back of the ruined villa to intercept two gnolls moving in from the rear and Rosë was in a very bad spot. He was flanked by two rogues, had another gnoll moving towards him and the ONLY thing he could hit was the broadside of the hut! I think he needed a “9” to hit and his rolls, in order, were 8, 4, 2, 3 and 5 before he was dropped by a punishing series of sneak attacks, including one critical…ouch!)_

Things deteriorated rapidly.

Sextus attempted to push the crates over on the gnolls taking cover behind the barrier. Try has he might, the diminutive bard could not budge the crates. Despairing, he drew his short sword and jumped atop the crates. Looking down, he saw two surprised gnolls, who quickly dropped their bows and readied battle axes and large shields. Between the crates and the barn were two pits dug into the ground. From his spot atop the crates, Sextus saw three young women, clad in dirty finery, huddled in the bottom, looking up with tear-stained faces. Their cries for help redoubled when they saw him. They looked terribly familiar, but he could spare no time to ponder their identity as the gnolls leaped forward, growling and swinging their axes.

Lew’s celestial hound arrived at the back of one of the beleaguered Rosë’s opponents and delivered a vicious bite to the human’s backside. Holy power surged through the canine’s jaws and the man cried out in pain. He tumbled away from the barbarian and the dog, avoiding blade and bite and fumbled at his belt pouch. He secured a potion and quaffed it quickly. The gnoll that had gone around the back of the hut moved to cut-off the dog. Even with the momentary respite, Rosë was unable to land a blow and received another wound for his troubles.

Lew fired at the approaching gnoll again and missed while Quintus prepared to engage with his spear. The creature jumped atop their defensive wall and swung at Quintus. The combined protective magics of the sorcerer turned the axe blow aside. Rowan succeeded in felling one of the gnolls he faced, but the other struck the ranger a serious blow as he withdrew. Sextus traded blows with the gnolls and was badly wounded. He saw another gnoll – a huge brute with a scar across his snout – dash from the doorway of the hut. The gnoll had a massive two-handed axe strapped across his back and bore a heavy, curved dagger in its paw. A rumbling growl issued from its throat as it ran toward the bard. Casting a sorrowful look towards the terrified young women, the badly wounded Sextus jumped off the crates and retreated to the end of the hedgerow.

The celestial hound and gnoll traded attacks, each slightly wounding the other, while the other human moved back into position to flank Rosë. The rapidly weakening barbarian made one last, desperate attack before the mirrored short swords took him high and low. The Brigante dropped to the ground in a bloody heap. Quintus and Lew backed up as the gnoll facing them pushed forward. Lew ducked an axe blow, stepped back and fired, missing badly. While the gnoll’s attention was on Lew, Quintus stepped forward and plunged his spear into the creature’s upper leg. Bright red arterial blood spurted as the dogman collapsed in a heap. Their momentary relief was quickly quashed as Lew’s divine dog shimmered and winked out of existence…both human swordsmen and the gnoll beside them charged toward the pair, bloody weapons waving.

Quintus yelled for Lew to get out of there, but the cleric either didn’t hear or chose not to listen. Rowan charged forward and hacked at the remaining gnoll from the pair he was facing. His blow went wide, but the creature’s return blow staggered the ranger and left him reeling. The strains of Sextus’ song ended as the bard chanted healing words and directed his power inward. Fortunately, the magic fortitude produced by his tune lingered for half–a-turn of the minute glass!

A gravely voice, rose above the fray in heavily accented Tradespeak, “You stop! You stop now or I kill girlz! I warn you!”

Quintus jumped up on one of the villa walls as the humans and gnoll arrived. Quintus was still yelling for Lew to leave, but the cleric stood his ground. Beyond Lew, the badly wounded Rowan finished his opponent with a thrust of his blade. He heard Quintus’ continuous calls for retreat and dashed into the woods, diving into a thicket. He looked around for his friends, but no one followed…they were cut-off!

The gravely voice raised again, “Stupidz! I warn you!”

A high-pitched cry of pain and terror rose above the sounds of battle and was abruptly silenced! Sextus ran forward, retrieved his crossbow and remounted the pile of crates. Below him, he saw scar-nose pulling his bloody dagger from the throat of one of the women. As her auburn hair fell away from her face and her head dangled at an unnatural angle, he realized that it was Carmilla Cassuvius, one of the daughters of the wealthy landholder. To his horror, he realized that the other two girls in the pit were the other two children of the magnate.

The scar-nosed gnoll growled again, “Drop weaponz…give up now or I kill more!”

The bard froze for a moment. A dozen different courses of actions swam through his head. Everything seemed to slow for a moment, then scar-nose barked a command and the other two gnolls dipped their arms into the pit and grasped another screaming girl. Sneering evilly and never taking his eyes from Sextus, the gnoll drew back his arm with the bloody blade. Screaming incoherently, Sextus raised his crossbow, but he knew in his heart he was going to be too late…

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 8 (Part Two) - The Blood of Innocents*

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 8 (Part Two)*

*The Blood of Innocents*

Sextus fired, striking scar-nose a solid blow. The creature shrugged off the wound and drove his curved dagger through another fair throat. As the bloodied form dropped to the ground, the gnoll barked a command and one of the gnolls released the now limp arm and bent to retrieve axe and shield. The other knelt down to retrieve the third - and final - daughter of Calian Cassuvius.

Quintus, unable to see Sextus (and no longer hearing his singing), knowing that Rosë was down and aware of the enemies bearing down on them, was growing desperate. “Run!” he screamed at Lew. This time, the cleric complied, dashing from their ertstwhile “fortress” that was rapidly taking on the aspects of a tomb. Quintus turned to follow only to be stopped by a blood-spattered gnoll. Quintus called upon what little magic he had left to momentarily Daze the creature and slip past. Still looking for Sextus, Quintus clambered atop another wall. He sighted Sextus a spear’s throw away, standing atop the pile of crates, furiously reloading his crossbow. “Sextus! Run…the others are gone!”

If he heard, the bard paid his brother no heed.

Lew crashed into the edge of the woods. He was 3 or 4 paces beyond the tree line when he spotted Rowan, bleeding from several wounds, crouched behind a large bush. Calling upon one of his few remaining miracles, he called upon _Osirian_ to _Aid_ his friend. Temporarily fortified, Rowan readied his blade and prepared to charge forth. The ranger and the cleric broke cover, running for the two human swordsmen that nimbly danced forward to flank Quintus and the gnoll who was coming out from under the effects of the sorcerer’s spell.

Quintus desperately tried to fend off the attacks, but first one blade, and then another, slipped past his magical defense and bit deep. He responded weakly, grazing one of the humans. They grinned in unison and continued their attacks.

Atop the crates, Sextus grimly reloaded. One of the gnolls was bearing down on him, already bloodied axe raised high. The other gnoll warrior had pulled the last girl from the pit and pinioned her arms behind her back. Scar-nose growled again and moved toward the girl. “Throw down weaponz…she live!”

The huge brute emphasized his point by shaking blood from the end of the dagger.

The girl - Sextus thought her name was Drusilla - struggled like a wild thing, throwing her body back and forth and kicking her captor in the shins. The gnoll merely grunted and tightened his grip. Summoning bravado that rang hollow in his own ears, Sextus replied, “Drop YOUR weapons and we will let you live!”

Scar-nose lunged forward and Sextus fired. The gnoll howled in fury as the bolt slammed into his torso. He staggered a little, but his dagger strike was true. Drusilla tried to yank her head away at the last second, but blood sprayed once again and the captor gnoll contemptuously threw her aside. The body tumbled against the base of the hedgerow and lay still. Sextus screamed in fury and then in pain as the remaining gnoll warrior’s blade bit deep. Terribly wounded and barely standing, the heart-broken bard jumped off the crates and began to retreat once more.

Rowan and Lew hit the tangle of bodies surrounding Quintus. The ranger’s blade bit deeply into one of the human swordsmen, who pitched to the ground with a grunt. Lew jumped through the gap opened by Rowan and sprinted towards the spot where Rosë lay. The remaining human swordsman, seeing his companion fall, let out a strangled cry, disengaged from Quintus and wove his way through the fray towards the slumped form. Quintus, free from everyone but the gnoll, issued a desperate mental command to his magical Shield, trying to interpose the barrier between himself and the mangy creature. The gnoll’s axe blade arrived a heartbeat ahead, however, and the sorcerer slumped to the ground, blood spurting from a terrible wound.

Sextus hit the ground and looked up to see his brother fall in a heap. “N-n-n-o-o-o-o!” echoed across the battlefield and the bard summoned what little strength he had left and rushed towards the spot where Quintus lay, his life slowly leaking out. The remaining human swordsman ignored Rowan, instead stooping low to scoop up his mate, sling him over is shoulder and withdraw several paces. Amazed, the ranger counted his good fortune and prepared to cross blades with the gnoll. Both combatants hacked at each other with abandon then fell back – both had scored serious hits. The gnolls blow had stripped Rowan of the magical fortification supplied by Osirian (and then some).

Lew reached the prone Rosë. The barbarian looked as if he had been almost hacked to pieces. Without pausing to asses his condition further, Lew called upon a healing orison to stem the bleeding then grasped the huge warrior under the arms and started dragging him towards the wood line, about 10 paces distant.

Rowan knew he could not take another axe blow so, for the second time that day, he retreated from his hated enemies. The gnoll made to follow, but was distracted by Sextus as the badly wounded bard clambered over a villa wall, shouting and waving his gladius. The creature’s momentary hesitation was the opening ranger needed. He dropped his blade, whipped out his short bow and put an arrow through the gnoll’s left eye. Sextus reached Quintus just as the beast fell. He did not slow down. He grabbed the still sorcerer by his bloody tunic and lurched towards Rowan and the cover of the woods. The human swordsman glanced up briefly as he fumbled in his prone companion’s pouch and retrieved a crystal vial, then returned to his work, ignoring the retreating party members.

Lew reached the cover of the trees, dropped to his knees and poured orison after orison into Rosë until he saw his friend’s eyelids flutter. The barbarian’s eyes floated open and he tried to focus in on Lew. In the distance, he could hear shouting and he slowly patted his hands over his own body. He looked up at the cleric and croaked, “Where’s my axe?”

Sextus and Rowan pulled Quintus’ limp form into a thicket and the ranger desperately began working of the sorcerer’s severe wounds. His mind raced as he tried to recall all of the steps Lew had shown him several weeks before.

_(DM’s Note: Rowan took a rank of healing upon reaching 2nd level.)_

After several unsuccessful attempts, Rowan (with Sextus’ assistance), succeeded and the flow of Scipio blood slowed to a trickle. Quintus was alive, but only just! Rowan and Sextus heard shouts and growls from the compound, but no pursuit was immediately forthcoming, so they carefully pulled further back into the thicket. In the distance, a deep peal of thunder rolled. Rowan cast a quick glance skyward…it was going to rain!

_(DM’s Note: I will be blunt…they are up the creek without a paddle! Rosë has 1 HP, Quintus is in low negative numbers, Rowan and Sextus have about 4 HPs between them and only Lew is relatively untouched, but almost out of miracles. Lew and Rosë are on one side of the compound and Rowan, Sextus and the unconscious Quintus are on the other. The two groups have no real idea where the other is and many of their weapons (Rosë’s bow and axe, Quintus’ crossbow and spear and perhaps more) lay abandoned on the field. Between them, an undetermined number of bandits remain and it looks like the hostages are all dead. Just to add insult to injury…it is going to rain! Things look bleak for the home team - will they survive?)_

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 9 (Part One) - A Brief Respite...Or is it?*

Old One


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## Old One

*Interlude - Quintus' Journal*

*Quintus' Journal*

_Heading south to Oar, I felt an odd sense of relief. For a short period at least, our most serious troubles would be behind us.

Over our campfire, we discussed the potential of a getting one of the halfling trading companies, probably House Bramthin since it is known for dealing in ore, to work with us on surveying the abandoned mines. What I saw inside the mine led me to believe they may still have some valuable ore deposits. I figure House Bramthin will have some representatives in the caravan we hope to meet on the road. One of those representatives might be amenable to a little side job with us. I told Sextus to work on his songs of our adventures. His ability to entertain weary travelers with tales of our accomplishments will come in very handy on this trip.

We also discussed turning the ruined structure we jokingly call Fortress Scipio into a trading post for the barbarian tribes. Its location appears to be excellent for that undertaking.

After hearing my ideas Sextus remarked, "My brother always did have the mind of a merchant and the ambition of an emperor."

I'm glad that I did not mention my ultimate goal- a seat on Glynden's ruling council. Such a role requires the sort of wealth these ideas might generate. I do not desire the position for ambition's sake though. My reason is far simpler than that. Frankly, the position will make it more difficult for the Gallways and Orsens of the world to take advantage of me and mine. I grow weary of unscrupulous people like them tarnishing the 
memory of Emorian rule over Glyndyn. May Emor arise from her fading glory. 

Our pleasant journey, and my fantasies of actually having some influence over my life, ended when Sextus and Rose spotted a scrap of blue cloth fluttering in the woods.

Sextus pointed it out to me. "Send Rose..." I started.

My brother shot me a withering look. It seems that, like Sebrina, he wearies of my protective nature.

"...unless you want to check it out."

He flashed me one of his cocky grins and headed for the tattered fabric.

A short while later, I found myself looking at the remains of Ittis, a Cassivius family house steward. He was not long dead. I recognized the man from visits to the Cassivius compound with my mother. She hails from there and still has friends within its walls.

We took his blue cloak, the source of the scrap Sextus had originally spotted, to send to the Cassivius compound. Lew dealt with the remains. In the meantime, Rowan took a cautious look deeper into the woods.

The Ranger returned all too soon, reporting more bodies in a nearby glade.

Once there, details were added to the story of Ittis' demise. An outing, perhaps a picnic, interrupted by beastly gnolls. Two more Cassivius servants, Ronus and Archerus, left slain. Judging by tracks leaving the glade, Rowan estimated that the gnolls had at least one hostage.

We debated a course of action. I argued that the threat to the caravan, whose demise would threaten Glyndyn's viability, was a greater concern than a single hostage. My reasoning seemed strong. However, it sounded callous even to me. Sextus, really finding new confidence since his recent training with Kyndalyn, countered that the Swords were already headed south, and no one else would be around to help this poor wretch. His logic, and more chivalrous attitude, won nods of agreement from the others. 

Tying our mule Pratto, more commonly referred to as Josephus, in the glade we moved out with hopes of rescuing the hostage.

Rowan soon located a crumbling compound the gnolls were using as a headquarters. While the rest of us hid, he observed the place for a few hours.

After returning, he sketched the compound in the dirt. Closest to us was a small hut, where the gnolls seemed to be living. A small pool of water stood next to the hut. At the far side of the compound, in a straight line from the hut, was a crumblingblack barn. Next to the barn was a stack of crates, and at right angles to that was an unruly hedgerow. If the hut and barn formed two corners of a square, the opposite corners were crumbling ruins. The gnolls seemed to use these as a latrine. In the center of these ruins were the foundations of a building. From here, Rowan surmised, we could cover the openings of both the barn and the hut with our ranged weapons.

Rowan also reported a man who seemed to be issuing orders to the gnolls. All of them wore black and red, colors we know to be associated with the *Cult of Ashai*. Rowan did not locate the hostage.

A simple plan was formed. We would move into the ruined building and use a combination of sleep spells, arrows, and bolts to eliminate the gnolls piecemeal. We assumed the man to be a spell caster so we assigned Rose the primary task of killing him. Lew, with the ability to create an area of silence that would thwart any casting, would support Rose. Rowan's primary job was to kill a rather large gnoll we figured to be the leader.

As we approached the crumbling building from where we planned to launch our assault, I spotted a crudely constructed wall. It formed an enclosure between the hut and barn. Try as I might, I could not remember Rowan mentioning this. It would provide excellent cover for our adversaries. Part of me wanted to retreat and flesh out our plan, but daylight was fading and Rowan had warned us that the gnolls had excellent night vision.

Inside the enclosure, I spotted the both the man and gnoll we had decided were our main concerns. They were walking together toward the hut. Inwardly, I smiled. This would be easy.

I cast.

They both kept walking. The gnoll shook his head slightly. They exchanged puzzled looks.

I cast again.

Doubt fled from them, weapons came out. The man's mouth opened, but nothing came forth. Lew's Silence spell at work. The man ran, and as he passed from the area of Lew's magic the words "...under attack" obliterated the forest calm.

I dropped another Sleep spell into the hut's dim interior. Rose ran toward the hut as Lew called Osirian's blessing upon us. Sextus began to sing a warlike song that filled me with courage.

Two identical men, along with some gnolls, ran from the hut. I dropped another Sleep spell. Again, its effect was minimal.

After initially running past his position, the men spotted Rose and moved to engage him. The barbarian's face went bright red and twisted with a murderous rage. He began to rain brutal axe strokes on one the men. My stomach tightened as I noticed the man seemed to easily fend off the blows. 

Emerging from the barn, two more gnolls turned and disappeared from sight, probably running to circle behind us. Rowan agreed with my assessment and ran to deal with them. Then I watched as Sextus went over our protective wall and ran toward the crates that were stacked next to the barn. I fretted for him since I knew two more gnolls had taken up a position behind the crates. I dropped another sleep spell in their direction.

Lew chanted and a large dog, surrounded by Osirian's blue aura, appeared. The cleric commanded it to attack the men who were rapidly overpowering Rose.

I wanted to follow Sextus. But I was torn between his safety and Rose's. Our initial plan was already cast to the wind, but now our teamwork was eroding as well. My gut grew tighter.

Before I could pursue my brother, a gnoll rushed toward the crumbling building. Only Lew and I remained in the redoubt. I pegged a bolt into the beast's scruffy hide, but it kept coming. Leaping up on the wall before Lew and I, it issued a challenge. Stepping back, I dropped my crossbow and for the first time in my life I prepared to use my spear in hand-to-hand combat. Kyndalyn's advice that I stick to ranged weapons flashed through my head as I erected a magical shield in front of myself.

A bolt from Lew's crossbow flashed past the beast as it leapt down into our protective enclosure. It swung a malformed weapon my way and my efforts at erecting the shield were rewarded as the blow bounced off the solidified air. I threatened the creature with my spear and it hesitated long enough for Lew to fire again. Again, the bolt sailed past its target. However, I used the gnoll's momentary distraction to drive my spear into its leg. It collapsed in a heap.

Quickly, I tried to assess the scene. Rose lay crumpled on the ground. His former assailants, as least two men and a gnoll, were charging our position. I could not see Sextus or Rowan.

From behind the crates a voice yelled, 'You stop. You stop now or I kill girls. I warn you."

Girls. More than one hostage. Things were now very out of control.

"Do that and you will die when the rest of the Cassivius troops arrive," I yelled back. This was a pitiful ploy, serving only to reveal my desperation.

Another gnoll cleared the wall in front of Lew and I.

"Run," I yelled. I leapt forward thrusting my spear. The beast joined its brother on the ground, impaled by my weapon.

Loyal man that he is, Lew remained beside me. I needed him to leave so I could find Sextus. I could not see him and his singing had ceased.

"Run!" I urged him. This time Lew listened. He sprinted through the aperture that had once been the building's door. I turned to follow just as another gnoll moved to block this single exit. A quick pass of my hands flashed a light in its face that dazed it for the moment I needed to run past.

A feminine scream, laden with hopelessness, chilled my spine. Our clumsy assault was now the cause of some innocent's death.

Still seeking my brother, I leapt upon a crumbling wall to better view the area. With this height advantage, I spotted him atop the crates, bloody and fixing a bolt into his crossbow.

"Sextus, run. The others are gone," I yelled.

He fired at something behind the crates. Then amazed me as he stood his ground and started to reload. All I wanted to do was run from this place. However, my brother, filled with heroic tales and ideals more noble than mine, elected to continue the fight. I was forced to remain. He is family.

I now found myself engaged by the men who had killed Rose. One nimbly leapt up on the wall next to me. The other engaged me from the ground. They worked in unison, trying to flank me. I spun the magical shield I had erected to face one and prodded at the other with my bloody spear-tip. I only needed a moment to become certain that they were going to best me with ease.

I continued my tirade at Sextus as a sword slashed down my front, ripping open my tunic and spilling my blood. The pain was incredible.

Pale and bloody, Rowan burst from the forest. Lew accompanied him. Rowan engaged the man on the ground just as a gnoll joined their assault against me. His face set with purpose, Lew sprinted past us all.

Another female scream sounded.

In my need to assure myself of my brother's safety, I spared a glance in his direction. The distraction was enough for my enemy. Intense pain shot through me as I felt something plunge into my body. As the steel lanced out my back, it took my hope and dreams with it. Toppling from the wall, consciousness left me.

*(Corey's note: I should point out that Quintus has no idea of Rose's actual condition. I only wrote what the character saw. As for Quintus, it's up to Old One to tell the rest of the tale. All I can say is I may be playing "Manx the Misunderstood", much maligned, mislead, and mange-covered, Saar thief/sorcerer as early as next session.  Hopefully, we will hold off the neccessity of seeing "Manx the Misunderstood", but we shall see... !)*


*~ Quintus Scipio*_


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## Old One

*Interlude - Aftermath*

We did a little "behind the scenes" work in-between sessions. The results are as follows...

*Aftermath*

_The rain comes swiftly, preceded by powerful winds that carry the sounds from the compound away from your straining ears. In one spot, the badly wounded and winded Rosë struggles to his feet, draws his daggers and take a step back towards the battlefield, mumbling that he must retrieve his weapons. Lew, dashing water from his eyes with a free hand, persuades the furious barbarian to wait until they find the others.

Rowan hides Sextus and the unconscious Quintus deeper in the thicket and cautiously moves back towards the ruined villa. The howling wind and sheets of rain make scouting with any certainty nigh impossible, but the ranger sees no immediate signs of pursuit. He doubles back to his companions, stopping several times to make sure that nothing is following. Satisfied it is as safe as it is going to get, he and Sextus collect Quintus’ limp form and head back to the spot they had stopped earlier in the day. They swing wide around the compound, stopping frequently for Rowan to watch and listen.

Meanwhile, Lew has come to the same conclusion and he pulls the reluctant Rosë along with him. The duo arrives first and hunker down ten paces off the trail. Half-a-turn of the hourglass later, a flash of lightening silhouettes the forms of Rowan and Sextus emerging from the darkness of the woods. The joy of each group finding the other living is quickly dampened by the horror that Sextus relates in quiet, clipped tones. Rowan, concerned about their proximity to the trail, pulls the group further into the woods to a small hollow beneath a massive fallen oak. Once they are well-hidden, the ranger, aching in both body and soul, announces that he is going back out to scout.

Rosë struggles to his feet, draws his daggers and announces that he too is going. Seeing that is would be useless to argue, Rowan nods his assent and the pair slip off into the woods into the rapidly approaching dusk. Rosë wants to go straight to the spot where he fell earlier, but Rowan insists on swinging wide and coming in from behind the ruined villa. They are about halfway there when they hear a horse neigh in the distance – towards the compound. They go to ground for a few moments, then continue on. As they approach the crumbled walls, the rain begins to slacken and the wind diminishes. The both catch the scent of woodsmoke. Rowan hazards a peek over the top of a villa wall and sees, to his dismay, that both the hut and the barn are ablaze and burning fiercely!

Before Rowan can stop him, Rosë shouts and runs toward the paddock area. The ranger curses and rises to follow him when a movement catches the corner of his eye. To his right, a huddled form inches its way along the outside edge of the hedgerow and stops. Rowan raises his bow and sights on the shadowy shape. Again, it inches forward and stops. As it does so, a pitiful whimper issues from it. The ranger lowers his bow and moves forward cautiously. From five paces, in the failing light, he sees the blood-covered form of a young woman, fingers caked with mud, pulling herself along the base of the hedgerow. One piercing blue eye shines forth from under a tangle of auburn colored hair, locking on Rowan’s face, before the girl collapses and lies still.

Standing in the center of the compound, Rosë screams his anger at the sky. The enemy is gone – signs of a hasty departure are everywhere. They have fired everything left behind…bodies, trade goods and buildings. As he yells again, the barn collapses in a shower of sparks that light up the night air. Fists clenched in rage, the barbarian swears that someone will pay!_

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 9 (Part One)*

_(DM's Note: Below is the first part of Session 9. Unfortunately, Lew's player (Kris) was unable to make the session. If we are not in a place that an absent PC can be easily removed from the action (like "in town"), I just have them "fade" into the background. They don't make suggestions, will act if called upon (and it is reasonable) and don't really take any initiative.

Also, despite new dice on the part of several players, the *Curse of the Table of Elemental Evil* remains active! Fortunately, few bad rolls came during combat...)_

*A Brief Respite…Or Is It?*

Rowan checked the blood-soaked and mud-covered girl and determined she was stable, but needed additional care. He called Rosë over. The Brigante reluctantly left the ruin of the compound. As he turned to leave, he made out several burning bodies stacked in the doorway of the flaming hut…empty eye sockets flickering. He grunted in surprise as he found Rowan tending to the badly wounded young woman. The two fashioned a rough hammock from Rowan’s cloak and carried her to the hollow that held Lew, Sextus and the unconscious Quintus.

Lew examined her as well, checking Rowan’s bandages, and nodded his agreement with the ranger’s assessment that she was out of immediate danger. Lew then moved quietly among his companions, cleaning their numerous wounds, applying salves and changing dressings. 

Sextus sat quietly for a long time, staring at the unconscious girl and silently reliving his failed attempt to rescue her and her sisters. In his mind’s eye, the scar-nosed gnoll’s curved dagger plunged into one soft throat after another and all of their faces, framed in horror and despair, turned towards him. Finally, the young bard leapt to his feet with a strangled cry, heavy with self-loathing, and ran blindly into the darkened woods. For thirty grains, the younger Scipio trashed through the trees, flailing his arms about wildly and sobbing uncontrollably. 

His headlong flight came to an abrupt halt as he stumbled into an unyielding maple tree. His head bounced off the trunk with a meaty “thunk” and Sextus plopped to the ground. Badly wounded and overwrought with guilt, he lay huddled on the ground for several minutes, sobbing, before slipping into an exhausted slumber.

Rowan, preparing to keep watch, looked up in alarm as Sextus bolted into the woods. He heard his companion thrashing about, followed by silence. Concerned, he followed. The ranger noticed that a thick ground fog was starting to form as the rain ceased and the temperature fell. After a few minutes, he found the slumbering Sextus. He reached out a hand to wake the bard, then thought the better of it and left the diminutive man to his dreams. Rowan returned to the campsite and found everyone fast asleep. Putting his back to a tree, he settled in to keep watch.

Rowan awoke with a start.

He found himself completely enveloped in mist, unable to see more than a handbreadth in front of his face. He suppressed a rising feeling of panic and forced himself to listen. To his left, he heard the familiar snoring of Rosë. To the right, he made out the gentle breathing of several others. Besides the distant call of a hunting owl, he night was quiet. He carefully got to his feet. The thick ground fog rose to his waist, covering all beneath it. Trusting in his sense of direction, he ventured into the night to retrieve Sextus. It took much longer than he had anticipated. Nearly two hours after departing the camp, Rowan returned with the sleepy bard in tow.

They settled down again, backs to a tree, to keep watch until morning. Sextus promised to help keep Rowan awake on watch, but a quarter-turn of the hourglass later; the two were leaning against each other – fast asleep!

_(DM’s Note: Normally, I don’t make PCs roll to keep awake on watch. If they are badly wounded or very tired – due to battle, forced marches, etc – then I will call for a CON check vs. DC 8 to 15, depending on the circumstances. Both Sextus and Rowan failed miserably!)_

Rosë awoke in surreal surroundings. Thick mist washed over him, yet bright light filtered down opaquely from above. Startled, the barbarian yanked out his daggers and rolled to his feet, despite the protests of his battered body. Emerging from the ground fog, he blinked rapidly in the bright morning sunshine – he judged it to be several hours after dawn. Perplexed, he glanced around and spotted the head and shoulders of both Sextus and Rowan protruding from the mist. They sat with their back against a silver birch and their heads were resting together. The Brigante suppressed a chuckle as he observed his sleeping friends. He quietly slipped from the camp and returned to the ruined compound, searching for anything useful.

He returned thirty turns of the minute glass later, empty handed and frustrated and awoke his companions. Rowan was deeply embarrassed that he had fallen asleep twice the night before on watch, but no one else seemed concerned. Lew quickly set about his morning prayers and soon the power of _Osirian_ restored everyone to wakefulness. As the sun began to burn the fog away, the five companions and their guest took stock of the situation.

Quintus, although pleased to be alive, was deeply despondent over the loss of the two Cassuvius daughters and greatly apprehensive about dealing with the surviving one. He was also concerned over the loss of many weapons and the shaky state of health that most of the band was still in. Some of his fears proved to be unfounded, however, as Drusilla Cassuvius proved to be cut from fairly resilient cloth.

Although Lew’s strength through the Lightbringer had knitted the flesh of her throat back together, an ugly scar remained from the middle of her throat to the base of her right ear and Drusilla’s attempts to speak brought nothing more than a harsh croaking sound. Lew determined that stronger magic might be neccessary to heal her damaged vocal chords.

Communication proved difficult, as they possessed no quill or parchment and the girl was forced to scratch out her story using a stick and patch of cleared earth. Over the next two hours, pantomime and “dirt-writing” revealed some of the girl’s experiences and she proved to have some valuable information. They learned:

She and her sisters were out for a picnic when they were set upon by the gnolls and a human named Rak
The band that captured them was but one of four or five operating in the area
Everyone worked for someone named Skilorn (which several party members recognized as the reputed “Bandit King”)
Most surprisingly, she did NOT want to return to the Cassuvius compound, but wanted to travel to Oar. She was very emphatic about this last point. Quintus felt strongly that there were items that she was leaving out – particularly on why she wanted to travel to Oar instead of returning home – but he decided not to push the issue too far. He also sensed a quiet determination and strength within her that immediately won his admiration.

After a brief conference, they decided to send one group to the waterfall to retrieve Pratto/Josephus and bury the dead retainers, while the other group remained at camp. Then, they would spend one more night there to fully recover before continuing south towards the ruins of Greenspire and Oar. To their surprise, Drusilla insisted on accompanying them to the waterfall. Rowan, Lew, Quintus and Drusilla set out as the last of the fog dissipated. Rowan had little trouble backtracking to the waterfall and pool. They found little changed – the bodies and carriage were where they left them – but Pratto was not in evidence.

Weapons were readied and they all started when a voice called down from atop the waterfall.

“Now ain’t this a sight! Lookin’ fer somethin’?”

Rowan drew a bead on a cloaked form perched atop the waterfall on a large rock. He made out a threadbare brown cloak, patched innumerable times with a cacophony of colors. An unruly thatch of gray-white hair and scraggly beard framed a lean, weather-beaten face that hadn’t seen the inside of a building for a long time. The man puffed contentedly on a carved wooden pipe and seemed unconcerned by the weapons pointed at him.

“Normally, I minds my own business…things is healthier that way…but I come along to a curious sight. Dead men, a fancy wagon all broke like and a fine mule grazing in the middle of it all. Tracks goin’ off every which way…a mystery for sure. Soin’ I figure I might as well have a seat, grab a smoke an’ see what turns up. And here you are!”

Rowan lowered his bow slightly. “We are looking for our mule.”

“Aye…he’s up here by the crick within’ Bogwell…they's keepin’ each other company, right happy like! Come on up an’ see for yerself.” The old man stood and waved them up.

Rowan could see battered armor that might pass for studded leather, a broad leather belt with a cascade of pouches, trinkets and a short sword hanging from it. A faded blue tunic, oft-patched breeches and battered boots trimmed in fringe completed the threadbare ensemble. They advanced guardedly, but found their mule grazing contentedly next to another, much larger mule. In fact, it was the biggest mule any of them had ever seen! Atop the creature’s back was an impossibly large load, strapped down with all manner of leather and rope bindings.

Several sets of cooking utensils, sacks of flour, furs, staves, a crossbow or two, a worn axe, bedrolls and countless bags dangled precariously from the barely visible pack saddle. The size of the load seemed to dwarf the mule beneath, lending the creature an almost comical appearance.

“That there’s Bogwell – finest pack mule in all the Northlands! Say ‘hello’, Bogwell.”

The mule raised its head slightly, regarded the companions with one large brown eye, twitched its ears and sidled around so its large rump was facing directly toward Rowan and the others. Quintus, noting the weapons and some of the other gear atop the mule, ventured, “I see you have some weapons among your goods. Would you be interested in parting with any of them?”

“Oh, I am always interested in tradin’…as long as your coin is good, we can do business!”

Quintus chatted with the old man, who introduced himself as Lathan, while the others laid the Cassuvius retainers to rest. Lew prayed for their souls, Rowan dug graves and Drusilla traced a small circle of dirt on each of their foreheads (except for the one whose skull was split). Afterwards, she took a few moments to wash the worst of the mud and blood off in the cool water of the pool. A little cleaning went a long way…Quintus, Rowan, Lew and even Lathan took noticed as she combed her wet hair back with her fingers.

Quintus followed suit and took a few moments to examine the rocks behind the waterfall. All seemed solid and no niches or passageways were evident.

They invited Lathan (and Bogwell) to accompany them back to the camp. The old man agreed and they prepared to depart. Rowan, eyeing Bogwell struggling under the heavy load, offered to transfer some of the goods to the less heavily encumbered Pratto.

Lathan cheerily declined, “Don’t let that sour look fool you…Bogwell’s just fine. In fact, he can carry twiced as much ifn’n need be!”

Bogwell brayed loudly and looked directly at Rowan with a look of equine disgust. The ranger found the gaze of the mule slightly unsettling…there was something very strange about Bogwell the mule!

As they traveled, Quintus and Lathan bantered back and forth. It seemed the old man didn’t visit “civilized” areas very much. He claimed he hadn’t been around Glynden in some time (too many people), but had recently spent some time with traveling amongst the clans of the Monrovian Highlands. He was very disappointed when he found that the companions did not have any coffee and was keenly interested in what would be served for dinner. Quintus found his misgivings about the strange old man lessening with each step of the return trip. From time-to-time, Lathan would stop in mid-sentence and ask Bogwell if he had his facts right. The mule would either bray or snort in reply and the old trader would thank the creature and continue with his tale!

They returned to the campsite around mid-afternoon. Quintus introduced Lathan to Rosë and Sextus. The bard warmed to Lathan immediately and was soon regaling him with the sad tale of their encounter with the gnolls and the unfortunate death of Drusilla’s sisters. Lathan encouraged Sextus at every turn and Quintus, who was helping Rowan prepare dinner, cleared his throat loudly (and often) as his brother revealed detail after detail of their adventures! Irritated at the constant interruptions, Sextus bellowed at one point, “Oh brother…do shut up!”

Quintus returned to roasting venison, mumbling under his breath about "operational security" all the while.

Lathan insisted on building a large campfire and deflected fears of attracting gnolls or worse by sniffing the air for several moments and declaring it safe! With looks of resignation all around, the companions acquiesced and all were soon seated around a roaring fire. Lathan was disappointed that biscuits were not provided with dinner, but was pleased with the quality of the food. 

Over the course of the evening, Lathan and the group told tales, bartered, exchanged information and enjoyed each others company. It became clear that he was completely out-of-touch with current events (at least around Glynden). He inquired after Kyndalyn the Elder and Farinmail and was greatly disappointed to find they were dead. 

He seemed to have an amazing quantity of items secreted away on Bogwell’s back, although his trading skill was haphazard. He let a crossbow and bolts go to Quintus for a song, yet drove a hard bargain with Rosë over a battered woodsman’s axe. He also sold Sextus some extra bolts and found a satchel with parchment and writing quills that Quintus purchased as well. On Rowan’s request, he examined the ranger’s battered short sword using a curious magnifying contraption that he pulled from his myriad of belt pouches.

Under the magnifying contraption, the double-headed eagle of Imperial Emor was clearly visible. The talons clutched part of a fanciful and stylized capital “L”. When questioned about the significance of the letter or the sword, Lathan tugged at his beard for a moment and replied, “Don’t know what it might stand for…it’s Emorian fer sure, but I don’t know what it stands fer. ‘Course, it could be for ‘Lathan’!” He cackled, before returning the blade to Rowan.

Quintus persuaded him to carry several missives to Glynden, paying well for the courier service. The sorcerer used his newly gained parchment and quills to pen three notes – one to Kyndalyn describing the action around the ruined villa and suggesting scouting of the are, one to Father Thomas describing much the same and one to Luella instructing her to seek out Roget Crow to discuss reopening mining operations in the western traces.

Returning the favor of the tales told by Sextus, Lathan related the tale of the Fall of Ironoak to Felevar, describing the creatures in some detail.

“Out of the woods they came, two handbreadths or more shorter’n you, your Sextus. Long pointy ears, teeth filed to sharp points, ridin’ furry spider-lookin’ things, shootin’ everyone with their durned poison arrows and wigglin’ their finger about, castin’ all manner of evil spellwork! The good folk of Ironoak had ‘nary a chance. ‘Bout ten of us broke away ‘n were runnin’ fer our lives – them finger wigglin’, arrow shootin’ critter ridin’ cannibals in hot pursuit.

That’s when it happened! My innards froze up an’ ol’ Bogwell skidded to a halt, brayin’ in fear. Over our heads it flew…IT…the biggun’…THE dragon. Right down toward them Fels it went, spoutin’ a huge gout o’ flame! Three time it came around an’ I must admit I chuckled a bit to see them Fels and their furry critters blaze up! Them furry spiders burned up right nice! Anyway, haven’t heard too much outta them Fels since then…think they been lyin’ low on account o’ the dragon. Even tho' it saved my hide - an' Bogwell's too - I don't think I wanna see that critter again anytime in this life!”

Prompted by Quintus, Rowan pulled out the Felevar arrow and passed it to Lathan.

“Yep…them pointy toothed ones made it alright! They put their blasted poisons…greens and browns and blues…down in this hollow. Heck, they even got’em that explode into fire or freeze ya up…there bad’uns alright, them Fels!”

Underwhelmed by the amount of information received, Rowan took the arrow back and stowed it. It was growing late and most of the party was still tired (and wounded) from the battle the day before, so they banked the fire, set watches and retired.

Lathan was up before dawn the next morning, preparing a delicious breakfast of mutton porridge, flaky biscuits and potatoes. “This is how ya do it, young’uns! Maybe you can teach that little girl of yours how to whip up vittles properly!”

Drusilla cast a disapproving eye at him, but the unkempt old trader winked at her and grinned a snaggle-toothed grin. A shy smile crept onto her face and she shook her head in mock despair.

Following breakfast, Lew called upon the miracles of Osirian to return everyone to full health. Quintus noticed Lathan digging into one of the sacks atop Bogwell. He pulled out a small item – a comb or brush by the look of it – and gave it to Drusilla. He also left them the battered skillet, claiming it worked a lot better than roasting things on a spit.

“Well young’uns, it occurs to me that everywhere you travel, trouble follows! I think I’ll be taken my leave now, ‘afore too much more daylight gets burned away. Never fear, lad, I’ll get yer post delivered up Glynden way…’bout time I stopped in for a visit anyway. Take care of yerselves and say ‘goodbye’, Bogwell!”

The over-loaded mule cast one more desperate glance towards Rowan, brayed loudly and followed the old trader north. As he departed, Lathan began singing a loud, off-key tune. Strains of “I Never Met a Rock Troll I Wanted to Kiss” faded into the distance as he departed!

As they packed up their gear and prepared to depart, the companions began to notice some peculiar things.

Quintus felt a strange tingling sensation when his hand brushed up against the leather satchel that contained the parchment and quills. Sextus saw that the bolts he purchased the evening before now bore a slight blue tint on the fletching and the metal heads were pitted with faint blue specks. Rowan saw that the faint design on his short sword was now plainly visible and he felt a slight tingling sensation when he touched the hilt. Finally, the battered axe that Rosë had purchased the night before had transformed into a well-balanced hand axe. Stunned, the companions looked at each other in amazement…just who, exactly, was Lathan?

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 9 (Part Two) Gnoll Rematch or Redux?*

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 9 (Part Two)*

*Gnoll Rematch or Redux?*

They traveled south for the next several days, returning to the Oar road to make up for lost time. Using Detect Magic spells, the Bros. Scipio determined that much of what they purchased from or were given by Lathan bears weak dweomers. Sextus’ crossbow bolts and Rowan’s sword both reflected slight transmutation magic. In addition, the frying pan bore a faint aura of conjuration. They are unable to decipher the exact dweomers of the satchel, Rosë’s axe or Drusilla’s hair comb – but they all held some type of enchantment. Speculation flew back and forth as they tried to determine the nature of Lathan…

During the journey, Quintus tried to show Drusilla how to use a crossbow. His early attempts were nearly disastrous, as a premature discharge almost puts a bolt in Sextus’ forehead. She proved to be a quick study, however, and was soon able to put 4 bolts out of five in a 3-pace circle from a bowshot’s distance. In addition, Rowan began to teach her the rudiments of Handspeak, the sign language often used by rangers, druids and rogues. The young ranger also noticed, as the journey continued, that Drusilla was becoming very attractive – especially after brushing her hair. He mentioned his observations to Quintus, who bristled uncharacteristically and growled, “That’s all well and good…just don’t forget about my sister, Maxima!”

Rowan sputtered for a moment, but the sorcerer stalked away, body stiff with anger, before the ranger could fully reply. ‘Geez,’ Rowan thought to himself, ‘Can’t a guy acknowledge a little beauty? Wonder what’s eating him!’

Rowan didn’t mention it again and Quintus avoided the subject as well.

Midway through their second day on the road, they left the southern edge of the Thuringian Wood. Before them, gently rolling grasslands rose toward a line of low hills a days march or more distant. According to Lew, Rowan and Rosë – the ruins of Greenspire lay amongst the hills. By morning of the third day, the clouds began to gather in the skies once again and a light drizzle began to pepper them by mid-day. Shortly thereafter, Rowan noticed several buzzards circling two or three bowshots to the east. A quick, but cautious, advance revealed two slain retainers of the _Swords of Glynden_ and a dead pony.

While Lew performed the burial ritual and the others kept watch, Rowan performed a careful inspection of the area. He determined that the retainers had been riding north, where they were waylaid by about half-a-dozen gnolls. The gnolls, clearly victorious, continued south – towards Greenspire – with one pony and at least one wounded member. Quintus commented grimly that at this rate, Glynden would soon be depopulated - with the losses they had seen in the last week (although he wasn’t too moved by the demise of the retainers).

They camped under the stars that night, a bowshot from the road. During the night, several of those on watch heard the howling of wolves far too the west. At first, Rowan thought it might be a gnoll pack and called everyone to arms. Rosë laughed at the ranger’s jumpiness and pronounced that they were naught but wolves, howling at the moon. They ate a cold breakfast the next morning, wary of starting a fire too close to the ruins of Greenspire. They continued to move through the hills and, shortly before mid-day, crested a hill and found themselves looking down into a shallow, wooded “bowl”. Amidst the trees, several ruined towers, made from green colored stone, rose skyward.

As they gazed at their interim destination, Rowan spotted movement in a swale to the left and the Bros. Scipio caught the dull gleam of sunlight off metal to the right. “Damn,” cursed Quintus under his breath, “so much for the element of surprise!”

Shouted warnings rose in tandem with the all-to-familiar barks of a gnoll warband. Quintus thrust his crossbow and bolts at Drusilla, who readily accepted them. Rowan stepped forward and let an arrow fly. Answering arrows fell among the party and the battle was joined!

The party occupied a high hill in between two groups of four gnolls each. One group was on ridgeline, slightly lower than the party and the other group was in a low dell between two smaller hills. Yipping at each other, the gnolls loosed arrows and moved to converge on the party. Quintus moved forward, gathered his will and dropped a _Sleep_ spell among the group on the ridge. Fortune favored the sorcerer as three of the four slumped to the ground.

Quintus paused for a moment and called a protective shield into existance then, screaming like a banshee, he charged forward, yelling for Lew and Drusilla to follow him – he wanted to make sure the remaining gnoll didn’t have an opportunity to wake his fellows.

Rosë, who had been acting as rearguard, sprinted to the left and was just able to catch sight of the left-had group at the end of his run. Rowan, Lew, Sextus and Drusilla all rained missile fire onto the left-hand group and several hits were scored. Sextus also raised his deep baritone and began to recite a tale of valor about the legions of ancient Emor. That group concentrated its fire on Rowan and the ranger soon felt the unwelcome bite of several gnoll arrows.

The remaining gnoll on the right put an arrow into the wildly charging Quintus, who kept coming, yelling at the top of his voice. Slightly unnerved, the gnoll moved back, but nocked another arrow.

Rosë crested the hill above the left-hand group of gnolls and slammed an arrow into one that had already been wounded by Drusilla’s crossbow fire. Rowan sent another arrow into a gnoll he had struck previously and the creature staggered and dropped to one knee. Quintus reached the spot where the three gnolls lay in magical slumber and received another arrow for his troubles, he continued his tirade, but his calls now included a request for healing from Lew. The cleric and Drusilla followed the sorcerer up the ridgeline.

Meanwhile, the gnolls in the valley began angling towards the companions on the hill, firing as they came. Rowan took another grazing hit, but the others sailed wide. Sextus’ voice rose above the fray, strengthening the spirits of his comrades, but it failed to improve his aim…his bolt sailed wide.

In the space of a few heartbeats, the tide of battle turned dramatically. Rose hit the wounded gnoll in the upper left leg with a well-aimed shot and the creature crashed to the ground and lay still. Quintus ducked under another arrow and called forth another _Sleep_ incantation as the gnoll turned to flee. The others, seeing all of their companions on the ridge down, began to beat a hasty retreat south towards Greenspire. Rowan cursed them haltingly in their own language, but they declined to take up his challenge.

Rowan, Rosë and Sextus pursued for a few moments, but three gnolls – one badly wounded and another grazed – broke contact and made good their escape. After a brief debate, the four slumbering gnolls were put to the sword. Quintus and Rowan expected some dissension from Lew, but after the events at the abandoned villa, the cleric of _Osirian_ was not kindly disposed towards gnolls. The group quickly looted the fallen bodies while Lew called upon the miracles of _Osirian_ to heal their minor wounds.

_(DM's Note: The first part of this battle was picture perfect for the PCs. They used great teamwork, had the dice working for them and neutralized about 2/3s of the gnoll combat teams in short order. Unfortunately, the others were able to break contact and get away, with seriously adverse results!)_

The gnolls were well armed and armored. Each torso was encased in Lorica Squamata and each member of the warband bore a short bow, arrows, battle axe and large wooden shield. Several hundred denarii worth of mixed coin and two oblong black gems were also recovered. A quick examination showed the armor to be overrun with fleas, so they quickly cut the straps to render it temporarily useless, broke the handles on the shields and prepared to leave the area. Their departure was hastened by the barking of numerous gnolls from the south – the escapees had friends!

They cut west, traveling at right angles to their previous line of march. Several minutes later, a collective howl arose behind them…apparently the gnolls had found the previous battle site. Rowan, Sextus and Rosë caught movement along a ridgeline to their left (south) and two ponies with humans mounted atop, crested the ridge. They yanked their mounts to a halt and one of them raised what looked to be a bone to his lips. The companions couldn’t hear anything, but the cries of fury from the gnolls redoubled!

Cursing, Rowan and Sextus sent bolt and arrow into the rider with the bone – Rosë’s shot sailed wide. The human reeled in the saddle, but remained upright and the pair wheeled their mounts and disappeared from view before anyone else could act. As they vanished, Rosë recognized them as the pair that had bested him outside the thatched hut and he yelled a challenge after them.

With the yapping of the gnolls growing closer, then group began to run. Cresting the next hill, they saw the two riders galloping along a parallel hilltop, but their hastily launched missiles fell short and the pair again rode for cover. Rowan turned to look behind them and his heart sank. Cresting a ridgeline three bowshots behind them was a veritable gray and brown wave of gnolls. The ranger stopped counting at twenty and urged his companions to make greater speed.

Unfortunately, the heat of the day and the energy expended in the earlier fight must have taken their toll and the grueling pace of the chase began to sap the strength of the small band. First Sextus and Rosë began to flag, followed in short order by Rowan and Quintus. Their legs screaming from the exertion, each willed themselves to keep moving. Rowan looked around desperately for a defensible location and spotted a low ridge with a small rocky promontory just past the next hill. Gasping for breath, he yelled at his friends to make for it. By the time most had reached the base of the ridge, the majority of the gnolls were not much more than a bowshot distant. Grimly, they clawed their way toward the top and temporary succor!

Everyone but Rosë gained the summit and turned, readying missile weapons and preparing to fire. The heavily-muscled barbarian could go no further. He stopped, dropped to one knee and began jamming arrows, point first, into the ground next to him. As the wave of gnolls poured into the valley below, he nocked an missile and prepared to fire into the on-rushing horde.

‘Today,’ he thought with grim satisfaction, ‘is a good day to die!’

*To Be Coninued…*

*Next: Session 10 (Part One) - "Scarnose" Redux*

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 10 (Part One)*

When we last left our intrepid band, they had handily defeated a gnoll ambush but allowed some of the enemy to escape. The brutish humanoids soon returned in far greater numbers and the chase was on! Despite their best efforts, the group was unable to outrun the hardy raiders and was soon brought to bay by the snarling pack. Rowan spotted a suitable defensive position and the heroes turned and prepared to fight. A ragged line of gnolls, strung out from the chase, ran toward them howling…

_(DM’s Note: The players have put together their own e-group to discuss thoughts, tactics, etc outside of the watchful eye of the Rat Bastard DM ™! They did a pretty good job of planning out tactics, as we will soon see.)_

*“Scarnose” Redux*

Atop the rocky tor, everyone but Rosë took up hasty defensive positions, hunkering down behind several large boulders that crowned the hill and gasping for breath. The party positions - from right to left - were Lew, Drusilla, Quintus, Sextus and Rowan. The barbarian, severely winded, began to loft arrows at the advancing gnolls while slowly retreating up the hill. Quintus, a plan forming in his head, began handing flasks of oil to Drusilla; instructing her to tear strips of cloth from her cloak and “stuff” them into the mouth of each flask. Sextus summoned arcane power to cloak the unarmored young woman with a protective barrier, then moved to provide the same protection to his brother. Unfortunately, his hand caught on a strap of his armor during the final pass and the gathered arcane power fizzled!

_(DM’s Note: Sextus wears studded leather armor and has to roll for arcane spell failure for spells with somatic components. Just prior to his roll, I said “Here comes a spell failure!” Very prophetic…it was the first time that Sextus has not made a roll. Steve (Sextus’ player) is going to file a grievance with the D&D Player’s Union against the DM for unduly influencing the dice roll !)_

Lew and Rowan added their crossbow and short bow to Rosë’s missile fire. Bolts and arrows began to fall among the lead gnolls and although several minor hits were scored the tide of gray and rust colored fur merely slowed slightly while they unslung and readied large wooden shields. Rowan’s practiced eye noted that the chase had strung the gnolls out into several distinct groups, with half a bowshot separating each group. If they could quickly defeat the lead group, they just might have a chance! A pair of gnolls dropped under the sustained missile fire, but the rest came on, howling in anger. As they approached, Sextus’ voice rose in song and his companions felt their spirits begin to lift.

_(DM’s Note: Never let anyone say that a bard is useless! The bonuses added by Sextus’ inspiration made the difference between hitting and missing in a number of attacks made by the party. This was the second or third combat where his ability made a major impact!)_

Rosë retreated to the cover of the rocks just as the lead gnolls reached the base of the hill. Instead of charging straight up, the ragged line split into two groups and began circling around on either flank, yipping and barking all the while. Rosë, Lew and Rowan all scored hits, forcing one gnoll to drop to the ground and cower behind its shield. Quintus called forth his power and summoned a magical shield to deflect the enemies blows and scored a solid hit with a crossbow bolt shortly thereafter. Beside him, Drusilla continued to prepare oil flasks for hurling and soon had four vials prepared. Sextus was firing the strange bolts he had purchased from Lathan and finally sank one deep into a gnoll after several misses. The effect was astounding…

A grain or two after the bolt struck home, crackling blue electricity engulfed the gnoll’s upper body. The creature jerked spasmodically and howled in agony before dropping to the ground, blackened and smoking. The other gnolls slowed their advance slightly, eyes darting nervously towards their erstwhile companion. Quintus, seeing an opportunity, leaped to the highest boulder and called out in his most intimidating voice, “By Imperial Emor, if you do not flee immediately, we will strike you down with our powerful magic and not one of you will live to see sunset!”

He then raised his crossbow, loaded with one of Lathan’s bolts and snapped a shot at the closest gnoll. The creature swung its shield up just in time and deflected the missile harmlessly into the grass. The sorcerer remained atop the rock - in full view of the enemy - and continued his tirade. Lew focused his faith and called forth a glowing mace from the power of _Osirian_ and sent the weapon streaking towards a knot of gnolls. Rowan rained arrows down on his hated enemies without pause and Rosë called for Drusilla to hand him an oil flask as he spotted a cluster of three gnolls moving to the flank. Unfortunately, a small amount of oil had spilled onto the side of the flask and the slippery container flew from the Brigante’s grasp as he drew his arm back to throw it. The flask shattered on the ground five or six paces behind the group and burst into flame!

The barbarian looked sheepishly at his companions and mumbled, “At least I have secured our rear!”

_(DM’s Note: Rosë rolled a “1”, followed by a fumble confirmation. Fortunately, the flask did not fall among the party…that might have been very bad!)_

Sextus scored another hit with one of the ensorcelled bolts, but the tough gnoll resisted the worst of the effects and remained standing. Lew, not content with his _Osirian_-powered mace, raised his holy symbol once again and began chanting the prayer to summon a celestial hound to aid him. Quintus continued his pronouncements of doom, but missed with his next shot. Rowan noted that several of the gnolls coming around his flank were pulling out bows and arrows soon began to fall among the companions.

The second ragged group of gnolls was almost upon them when the tenor of the battle shifted considerably. Lew’s _Spiritual Weapon_ continued to follow its designated target around the battlefield and his summoned celestial hound made its appearance. The priest of _Osirian_ followed up his magical attacks by a well-placed crossbow bolt to the chest of a gnoll. Sextus, Quintus and Rowan all scored additional hits and more gnolls fell. Rosë, his string of ill-luck continuing, heard a “crack” as he drew an arrow back on his bow and saw the wood on the weapon split. With a third of their number down, faced with obvious magical attacks and under constant verbal assault from Quintus’ sharp tongue, the initial wave of gnolls began to falter and pull back (with the exception of several gnoll sharpshooters on the extreme left of the party’s battle line).

Furious howling erupted from the second gnoll line as it reached the battle area and Rowan made out the gnolls word for “coward” several times from the shouting. The ranger and bard traded arrows with the gnoll archers. Both received minor wounds, but the gnolls continued to drop, including one that succumbed to the crackling electricity of the last of Sextus’ magical bolts.

Lew, Rosë, Quintus and Drusilla could see a huge gnoll rallying his faltering troops to the party’s right front. Drusilla’s eyes snapped wide with fear as she recognized the scarred visage of the brute that had killed her two sisters. Rosë discarded his cracked bow and hefted his newly acquired hand axe, preparing to charge down among the enemy. Below, a dozen gnolls formed into a tight wedge – locking shields – and charged uphill toward the center of the party’s position.

Still standing atop the boulder, heedless of the arrows falling around him, Quintus slapped his last magical bolt into his crossbow, carefully sighted on the lead gnoll and let fly. The missile passed just over the raised shield of the gnoll warrior and struck the creature squarely between the eyes. A ball of crackling electrical energy engulfed the gnoll’s head and upper torso and the body parts disintegrated in a spray of blood all over his companions and into the face of “Scarnose”. 

Lew followed up immediately by calling upon one of his most powerful miracles. Faint blue-white tendrils of light streaked toward the gnoll leader and played about his form. The huge gnoll limbs froze in mid-stride and a taunt halted on the tip of its tongue. The power of _Osirian_ completely prevented all voluntary movement, but the gnoll’s momentum caused him to pitch forward onto the ruined carcass of his companion. Rosë roared a challenge and began charging down the slope. The powerful display of magic and the fall of their leader was too much for the remaining gnolls. Even though they still outnumbered the party almost two-to-one, the surviving creatures turned tail and fled.

_(DM’s Note: The gnoll morale was already wavering when Quintus and Lew delivered the 1-2 punch! Quintus scored a critical hit for close to max damage + the electrical damage and did around 30 points total. Lew followed up with *Hold Person* to take the leader out and that did the trick. Both the players and the DM were amazed at the outcome of the battle, but the players did well. I rolled very well for Quintus’ *Intimidate* check earlier in the battle and Lew put together a great string of spells with highly visible effects to support Quintus’ claim of great magical power. Sextus took a couple of arrows and Rowan took one, but they escaped unharmed otherwise!)_

Rosë arrived at the prone and magically-held “Scarnose” and began hacking at his head. Rowan, Sextus and Quintus chased the fleeing gnolls with missile fire and flushed the last of the gnoll archers from a small copse of trees. Lew stood guard by Drusilla and noticed the two human bandits, still mounted atop ponies, crest a hill a short distance away. He snapped a shot at them, but, after surveying the scene, they set their heels into the ponies and disappeared.

After several strokes with his axe, Rosë separated Scarnose’s head from his body and raised it into the air while waving his bloody axe and howling in triumph. As he raised the grisly trophy, the head shimmered and changed. The barbarian found himself staring into the death-glazed eyes of a young human man, perhaps twenty winters old, with shoulder length dark hair and a thin mustache. His roar of victory faded away as he stared at the severed head.

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 10 (Part Two)…With Family Like That, Who Needs Enemies?*

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 10 (Part Two)*

*With Family Like That, Who Needs Enemies?*

The Brigante noticed the silvery chain of a necklace around the bloody stump of the severed neck. The transformed body lay in the now ill-fitting, flea-infested armor meant for a gnoll. Without pausing to think about it, Rosë dipped his hand into the mess and pulled the pendant free, holding it aloft to take a better look. A silvery chain passed through the pommel of a small stone dagger that was carved from dull gray-black stone. It looked innocuous enough, but the barbarian felt a tingling sensation soon after grasping the necklace.

Rowan’s eyes grew wide as he saw the air above Rosë shimmer and begin to discolor. He shouted a warning to the barbarian, who turned and caught a glimpse of the phenomena. A shimmering, smoky gray disturbance – about the size of an oblong shield – wavered just above his head. Rosë made out a dimly lit chamber and a silhouette moving towards him. With a cry of alarm, the ranger charged down the hill and struck the pendant from Rosë’s grasp, sending it spinning half-a-stone’s throw down the hill. The translucent oval held for a few heartbeats and Rosë felt a mental force of malice directed towards him before the shimmering dissipated.

Sextus and Quintus returned from their pursuit too late to see the mystical force, but both Scipio brothers noted the brief look of shocked recognition that flitted across Drusilla’s face when she beheld the severed head still grasped in Rosë’s blood-stained fist. Rowan and Rosë gave a quick account of what had occurred and Sextus, Quintus and Lew all agreed that it was probably some manner of scrying magic. Wisely deciding to leave discussion of the mystery for a later time, the group quickly gathered what equipment they could use (piling it atop the loudly complaining Pratto). 

They cut all the belt pouches from the fallen and deposited them in a large sack. Sextus quietly cast _Detect Magic_ in the area of the transformed human and discovered fading transmutation magic on the body, a magical ring that radiated faint abjuration dweomers, two crystal vials that radiated conjuration magics and the pendant, which reflected divination auras. They hastily scooped all of the items into the sack (with the exception of the ring, which Sextus “palmed” and secreted in his own belt pouch). They then rendered the vermin-ridden armor and the shields of the gnolls temporarily unusable by slicing straps and beat a hasty retreat to the West, before the gnolls could regroup. Before departing, Quintus, using the tip of a dagger, carefully lifted the stone dagger pendant from the ground and secured it in a pouch.

Shortly after they began marching, several party members felt the hair on the back of their necks rise to the uneasy feeling of being watched. After a hasty conference, the three magic wielders in the group decided that the black stone pendant could be a foci for scrying and stashed the necklace in a secure location, easily identifiable, before continuing on. They found a good place to camp for the evening and discussed their next move. After a lengthy conversation and much disagreement, they agreed to turn South after retrieving the necklace in the morning, cross the Great Western Road, then turn Southeast towards the Oar Road and attempt to intercept the caravan before it reach the ruins of Greenspire.

Examining their loot over dinner, they found a goodly store of coin and some gems among the pouches, along with a missive from “R” to Skilorn, the bandit leader. The note implored Skilorn to leave the Glynden bound caravan unharmed on the northern journey, since “R’s” agents had business with it, but indicated the chieftain could do what he wished when the caravan on the return trip to Oar. The second scroll was a crude map of the area, with the location of several other bandit encampments indicated.

The note from "R" to Skilorn read as follows:

_*Most Noble Skilorn, Lord of the Northern Roads,

I trust this missive finds you well. I am entrusting it to your servant and pray that it reaches you in time. I also took the precaution of sending a second missive by another route, so you may receive two. It is imperative that the caravan from Oar be allowed to reach Glynden unharmed and unhindered. My friends have business with it that must be transacted. If you accede to my wishes, I will double the payment we discussed before.

After the business in Glynden is complete, you may do as you will. I believe our other friend has use for any ore that is in the cargo and will pay well for it. There is no need to contact me…arrival of the caravan in Glynden will be proof of your word.

Until we meet again,

-R.*_

Prior to bedding down, Quintus and Sextus took Drusilla aside and gently, but firmly, demanded to know whom the head that Rosë still carried with him belonged to. It took the considerable persuasive powers of both brothers to overcome the young woman’s fear and reluctance, but she finally submitted to their request and penned a response.

_(DM’s Note: Despite Lew’s best efforts, the severe wound to Drusilla’s neck has left her mute.)_

She identified the dark-haired young man as one Acrius Sestius, son of Calian Cassuvius’ second wife, Domita Sestius of Oar – her own step-brother! She had met the young man only once, at the wedding the previous year, but thought him to be a well-connected merchant in Oar. The revelation that Acrius was “Scarnose” the gnoll confirmed – in Drusilla’s mind, at least – that her step-mother was behind the abduction of the Cassuvius girls and the subsequent murder of two of them. She indicated that she had “acquaintances” in Oar that could help protect her, but refused to say more, even when pressed. The trio returned to the camp and a subdued Drusilla quickly bedded down, sobbing silently.

The rest of the party was quite alarmed by the news related to them about Drusilla’s family entanglements…there seemed to be enemies, or potential enemies, at every turn!

With the singular exception of Rowan, fitful sleep and disturbing dreams plagued everyone in the party during the night. Although the exact form was slightly different, party members felt themselves start into wakefulness by a bone-chilling cold. Above them, gray haziness shimmered and a dull, black stone dagger descended towards their chests. They found themselves powerless to move, but just before the dagger touched them, it dissolved into a bright white light and they truly awoke, soaked to the skin in a cold sweat.

The following morning, bleary-eyed and tired, they discussed their similar dreams over cold venison. Quintus and Sextus quizzed Lew on his knowledge of curses and the trio posited and discarded several theories. In the end, they could reach no clear conclusion and prepared to break camp. The stoic barbarian seemed untroubled by his dream and Rowan, strangely left out of the shared experience, was afraid for his companions. They quickly, but carefully, backtracked to the spot they had left the pendant and retrieved it before resuming their march.

Shortly afterwards, several in the party felt a return of the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. They couldn’t determine a source of the ill feeling, but again suspected the pendant. When they reached the Great Western Road, around midday, they decided to rid themselves of the emblem once and for all. Rosë cut a sharpened stake, atop which he mounted the ripening severed head of Acrius Sestius. Drusilla blanched and turned away as Quintus scrawled out the word “Heretic” on a piece of wood and affixed it under the head. Finally, they carefully retrieved the necklace from its pouch and added it to the grim totem.

After a brief pause, they pushed on, hoping to make the Oar Road before nightfall. Rowan guided them through the unfamiliar woodlands for hours and afternoon stretched into evening. With less than an hour of daylight left, the emerged from light woods and found themselves standing by the stone ribbon of the Oar Road. Rowan quickly checked the ground and grimly informed them that they were too late…the caravan had already passed the spot and continued North. Tired, dirty and hungry, they decided to rest for a few hours, then pursue the caravan. Based on the age of the tracks, Rowan thought it likely they could overtake the slow-moving traders before dawn.

They ate a cold supper, grabbed a few hours of sleep and arose around midnight. Fortunately, a nearly full moon made travel fairly easy and the soon found themselves marching into the hills that contained the ruins of Greenspire. Near dawn, a ground fog started to form and Rowan called a halt at the crest of the shallow bowl that the former crossroads town lay in. The bellowing of oxen and the muted glow of banked fires revealed the caravan resting in the ruins below. Drusilla refused to enter the encampment, since the companions were almost sure the _Swords of Glynden_ were now with the traders. She had once been betrothed to Tomas Nacalius and was afraid he would take her back to Glynden and her step-mother.

After a short discussion, it was agreed that Sextus would stay with Drusilla. Lew and Quintus would seek out any representative of the Church that might be travelling with the caravan and ask him to deliver a missive to Father Thomas and Rowan, accompanied by Rosë, would attempt to trade the extensive store of weapons for additional coin.

As they descended toward the camp, feeling their way forward through the fog, several diminutive shapes appeared around them. “Halt and state your business, bigguns!” 

Quick assurances by Quintus and the presence of a Cleric of Light soon saw them past the halfling outpost and down among the caravan proper. More than 20 wagons and almost a hundred merchants, guards and teamsters lay in a tight defensive circle around the ruined fountain at the center of the crossroads. Quintus and Lew soon found the tent of one Sergeant-Brother Patrosian of _Tyrial_ – a knight of the Church of Light. A squire ushered them into the simple, yet well appointed compartment. 

Patrosian of _Tyrial_ was a tall, lean man with close-cropped black hair that was going gray at the edges. Even though the hour was very early, he was already clad in a heavy lorica segmentata and was strapping on his greaves. He gazed at the pair with stern eyes, quickly taking their measure. Lew nervously stepped forward. “We are from Gandlewyn…” he stammered. “I mean, I am Gandlewyn and we are from Glynden…”

Having badly botched his introduction, the cleric stopped, red-faced with embarrassment. Quintus stepped forward and smoothly took over. After regaining his composure, Lew returned to the conversation, which remained pleasant but formal. In the end, the Church Knight agreed to carry their missive to Father Thomas and asked several penetrating questions about the affairs of the town. Quintus glared at Lew in silent exasperation as the priest, recovered from his earlier discomfiture, babbled on and on about their mission and encounters. After three quarters of an hour, they took their leave of Sergeant-Brother Patrosian, who bade them go with _Osirian’s_ blessings.

Meanwhile, Rowan and Rosë where able to roust one Byuth Schulcross of House Schulcross, who dealt primarily with weapons. Unfortunately, the unshaven Byuth seemed to be recovering from a night of drinking and was none to pleased at being awoken. Bellowing for one of his assistants, the grumpy halfling bade them good day and crawled back into his wagon, after instructing his assistant to give the pair "Special Treatment"! Rosë and Rowan, used to dealing with the affable Garrick, were somewhat taken aback. 

The halfling drove a hard bargain – first gaining agreement that the gnoll weapons were poor at best, then using that bargaining point to discount the prices offered even more. Once he had driven the price offered down, he pulled out a beautiful bow of polished horn and a curious recurve. Rowan had noticed that several of the halfling guards bore similar weapons and learned that it was a Sythian horsebow. The ranger immediately fell in love with the weapon and the halfling, sensing an even greater advantage, pressed his “attack” home. Rowan and Rosë were accomplished warriors, but traders they were not!

In the end, they traded well over a dozen battle axes, some spears, a score of daggers and ten shortbows for *ONE* Sythian horsebow and 50 arrows! The ranger hummed happily to himself as he stroked his shiny new bow while strolling back to meet the others.

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 11 (Part One) - Quintus Invents a Flying Machine!*

_(DM’s Note: One item I forgot to put in the last write-up was the effect of the bolts obtained from the strange trader Lathan. On a successful hit, the target suffers an additional 2d8 of electrical damage - FORT save vs. DC 15 for half, targets in metal armor save vs. DC 17.)_

Old One


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## Old One

*Interlude - Lew's Journal*

*Lew’s Tale*

_Lew slowly peered over the bolder. His hand sunk into the soft moss that grew in the quiet shadows of the stone. He surveyed the crisp, green field below. From this vantagepoint, they could see nearly 100 paces in every direction. The scattered growth did little to screen their view. How did he get here? 

The events leading up to this moment seemed but a dream. He had placed one foot in front of the other without any real conscious decision to do so. He shrugged off the question. How they got here was not important. His eyes focused on one of the gray-snouted warriors on the far side of the field. “Is there no place more defensible that this?” 

No answer was needed. He knew as well as the others that this was the place, the only place, for them to make their stand. He raised the crossbow and took aim at the lead group of gnolls. The red and black tabards of the enemy made for easy targets against the field of green. He whispered a prayer to himself, but the words were lost in the face of the gnollish battle cries. He took aim, and fired. As soon as the bolt had cleared the bow, he began reloading. His fingers fumbled with the complicated mechanism as he raced to get the next bolt into the air. He struggled to keep up… Lock… Load… Aim... Fire… It seemed unending, but in mere moments the lead gnolls had reached the foot of the hill. 

Some had fallen, but their numbers were too great. Suddenly, the lead gnoll burst apart, as if it had been hit by lightening. The gnolls halted their advance for a brief moment, shaken by whatever had killed the first gnoll. Quintus was already on top of the boulder, shouting out threats to the advancing hordes. Lew knew what had to be done if they were to walk away from this battle. He raised his holy symbol to the heavens, reciting the prayer that he had recently learned. 

A flash of golden yellow light appeared before the young preist, then solidified into a glowing mace. Lew pointed towards one of the minions of the dark priestess with hatred in his eyes. “In the name of the Light” was his single whispered command as the weapon speed into combat under its own power. Lew raised the symbol of his faith once again, this time calling forth a celestial being from the heavens to fight on Osirian’s behalf. A Blue-White light streaked down from the sky. The earth shook as the beam impacted a few feet in front of the advancing gnolls. As the light dissipated, a pristine white dog pounced ferociously on the nearest gnoll. 

With greater confidence, Lew raised his crossbow, this time watching the bolt as it sank into the target’s chest. Other spatterings of blood around the field indicated were more gnolls had met a grim, magical death. The gnolls had begun to retreat… Some shouting on the left side of the field brought everyone’s attention to bear. One of the gnolls was beginning to rally the troops. In moments, they had formed a tight wedge, and began charging up the hill. Melee combat seemed inevitable… Lew began reloading his crossbow. Maybe he could get in one more shot before they made it up the hill. 

He heard the undeniable “twang”, then “thwank” as a crossbow bolt sunk deeply into the lead man in the wedge. Lew looked up to see lightening ripple through the creature’s body before it exploded in gobs of bloodied gore. Lew dropped his crossbow. Bearing his holy symbol for all to see, he prayed for Osirian to stop the charging force in its tracks. Blinding bright light sprang forth from the talisman, striking the commanding gnoll in the chest. The gnoll leader’s arms and legs froze in awkward angles as he dropped paralyzed into the pool of flesh and blood that had once been a gnoll. 

Any spirit that still remained in the creatures broke with the fall of their leader. The strange army quickly retreated off into the forest. Lew’s mind reeled. He had not dreamed that they would walk away from this fight. He took stock of the mule and the woman, glad that each was unharmed. The young priest bowed his head, whispering sweet prayers of thanks giving to the god who watched over them. After several minutes, the others returned from where they had given chase to the retreating army. 

As they approached, he saw that Rose carried a severed human head. Before Lew could reprimand the vulgar barbarian, Rowan spoke up. He explained how Rose had cut the head from the body of a gnoll, and that the body and head had then transformed into that of a man. Lew’s head spun. Evil priestesses commanding gnoll armies, and one that is not a gnoll at all, but a man magiced to look like a gnoll. What happened to the days when the biggest trouble in their lives was when a handful of the miners got too drunk, and a bit rowdy? 

That was only weeks ago, but it seemed like years. “Let’s gather what we can”… “Then we better get moving before they come back”… Lew wasn’t sure who voiced the suggestion, but he nodded his acquiescence. A few, short minutes later the party was once again cutting its way across country, hoping to put some distance between them and the gnolls. 

"What was that?" The brothers voiced in unison. The entire party came to a stop, waiting to see if something more would happen. Nothing did. The brothers debated for some time about the magical items that had been recovered from the fallen gnolls. After several minutes, they had concluded that one of the items, a strange black amulet, carved in the shape of a dagger, might give its creator the ability to see, hear, or track whomever carried the item. 

Lew, having little knowledge of such sorcery, wondered at the powers of arcane magics. The small amount he had learned from Quintus surely was only the tip of the iceberg. He made a mental note to probe deeper into the arcane when they spoke again. The party generally agreed that, if the brothers were right, they must rid themselves of the artifact as quickly as possible. Lew added the fact that, even if they were mistaken, it was not worth the risk to keep the amulet. 

Before long, Rowan had found a suitable spot to leave it. A hole was dug with due haste, and the amulet was carefully dropped inside. The dirt was packed back over the hole, and some loose brush was used to disguise the place where the earth had been torn up. The party moved on a little quicker now, having had to waste precious moments depositing the amulet. Before long, darkness fell, and they reluctantly decided to make camp. Both brothers had tired after the battle and could go no further. Little effort was made to create a camp, all had been through too much today to care. Lew began unpacking the rations for a short, unappealing, but necessary dinner.

Sextus and Quintus took to training the young woman in the use of a crossbow, and Rowan disappeared into the woods to scout the perimeter. When the brothers returned, they recounted the information that had gotten from the young woman. Apparently, the man's head that Rose carried so proudly was once that of the woman's brother by marriage. Son of her stepmother's first marriage, he had been an important man in Oar. Instead of answers, they only had more questions. Why was such a man so far from home? Why did he wear the black and crimson of *Ashai*? Why was he disguised as a gnoll? Why did he lead gnoll armies? 

Lew's head spun as he closed his eyes, adjusting the traveling cloak that served this night as a pillow. The night past restlessly, as Lew was becoming accustomed too. The dream this night, however, was somehow different. The others, he knew were dreams… vivid, detailed dreams, but there was no doubt that they were dreams. This… Had he dreamed it, or had he been awake? The dream… if that was what it was… was cold… dark… hazy… A black dagger floated towards him in a field of white mist. Before it struck his chest, the dream ended…. "I had the strangest dream last night…" Sextus mumbled as he gathered his things to leave the next morning. "Really? What kind of dream?" Lew's brows furrowed. 

He had a strange feeling this was more that just a dream. As Sextus began describing the dream, Quintus and Rose both piped up that they had similar dreams. The elder brother must have been thinking the same thing, as he piped in with a ominous question "Lew, what do you know about curses?" "Well… Curses can be extremely powerful. Most… If I read where you are going with this… only last as long as the item is in your possession. I have heard of curses that can taint a victim even after they have released an item… but that is rare, and would require someone with immense power to create such an item. Still it seems odd that it affected all of us… Sextus, Quintus and I had no contact with the thing, and yet we had the same dream… and Rowan knocked it out of Rose's hand, yet it apparently did not affect him. The whole situation is quite unusual." 

Concern creased the faces of all, but nothing was to be done now. They had to catch the caravan before it passed. Before long, they crossed the great western road. Sextus handed the mule's reigns to Lew as he slipped to the back of the party. Several minutes later, the two had erected a pole along side the road. Atop it, they placed the severed head, with a sign marking him as a heretic who had paid for his lack of faith. Lew frowned slightly, but said nothing. Had he been consulted, he would not have let the barbarian desecrate the body of a fallen man. But his thoughts mattered little to Rose. The act of placing a man's head on a pike was barbaric, crass, disgusting, but not forbidden. Such were the ways of man. Lew sighed outwardly as the party continued on. At least, if this had to be done, it was done in the name of the light, against the powers of darkness. It was a noble reason indeed. If such acts could be accepted, this was the only reason that could justify them. 

Hours passed as the small party moved as quietly as they could through the forest. The large, weighted down mule made more noise than Rowan deemed acceptable, but nothing could be done to silence the stubborn pack animal. The trees thinned and finally gave way to the main road. Rowan frowned as he pointed to rut marks, a day or so old, that could only have been made by the passing caravan. The discussion was short - they had to reach the caravan. As they marched north they began discussing what they would do once they reached the Caravan. Lew offered a suggestion that many caravans would have at least one man of the cloth among them. He suggested that a letter be drafted, sealed, and given unto this person to deliver to Father Thomas. 
With the security of Glynden in good hands, they could then turn their attention to Oar, and their original mission. Lew was a bit surprised that the others agreed. Ever since they had teamed up some weeks ago, his opinions had counted for little. It seemed those motivations of greed, and personal ambition had often overcome the greater good. 

Quintus always seemed to be plotting something, six steps ahead of the rest of the party. It was not that Lew didn't like the man, but how can you really trust someone who doesn't trust anyone? And Rose… Lew continued to pray for the man's soul, but each day he found the big man dancing in the shadows more and more. He feared the day when the barbarian would cross the line forever. Sextus was a good man, but, blinded by brotherly love and duty to family, he would follow Quintus into hell itself if need be. 

Then there was Rowan. The man was an enigma. His heart was good, his mind sharp, yet since Garrick's death. He too, deferred to Quintus more often than not. As Lew concluded his mental assessment of the men around him, he realized that they had begun to slow. "Maybe we should take a break for a while?" Quintus spoke up. "I can't keep up this pace, but we can not afford to loose too much time. Let us just take a few hours rest, then we can get back on the road." 

Rowan studied the tracks etched into the mud. "The Caravan is only a few hours ahead. We can rest for a while, and still catch up by dawn." 

Lew started to raise an objection, but the weary brothers had already found a small patch off the road and were beginning to make camp. The priest shrugged in the darkness of twilight, whispering to himself, ‘glad to see things are back to normal’! 

The short period of rest passed uneventfully, and before long they had caught up with the caravan. A quick discussion with one of the guards revealed that there was indeed a holy man among the caravan. The party huddled for a moment before finally deciding to split up. Rose and Rowan took the spoils of war into the camp to sell for whatever they could get, while Lew and Quintus set off to seek the warrior-priest. Sextus agreed to remain behind with the woman, who feared being recognized. It was not long before Lew spotted the Silver winged helm standard of the order of Tyrial, faithful warriors who fought in the name of the light. 

A quick exchange with a young squire, and the two travelers were granted an audience. The man finished donning his armor before turning to his guests. He was a large, burly man, covered head-to-toe in armor and weapons. Lew smiled lightly. The man was exactly as he had imagined. He remembered days long ago now - when he and his brother, Marcus, fought side-by- side pretending to be warriors of light. He remembered asking his father time and again to tell them stories of the Knights of *Osirian*, in all their glory. A smile touched his lips once again as he remembered the battle a few days gone. He had stood before darkness without fear, and had fought well. Is that what how this man feels each day? He wondered absently if he could ever be the warrior of faith that this man was. 

Suddenly, he realized that everyone was waiting for him to speak… "We are from Gandlewyn…" Lew was mortified, as his crimson cheeks clearly indicated. "I mean… I am Gandlewyn, and this is Quintus, We are from Glynden, where you are now headed. There I serve father Thomas in the ways of the light. I have urgent news that must be delivered to him. Would you… I mean, your assistance would be greatly appreciated, if…" 

The powerful man cut him off in mid sentence. Lew began to stammer out an answer, but was quickly saved by his silver-tongued friend. He could not believe himself. Was it lack of sleep? He hoped that was it. Why I am I so tongue tied? Damn… Lew may not entirely trust his secretive companion, but he had to admit that Quintus' slick talents came in useful from time to time. 

As the warrior began questioning their motives, Lew finally slipped back into the conversation. "We have reason to believe that the *Cult of Ashai* is up to something…" He handed the man the note that they had found on the gnoll's body, and proceeded to explain the events of the last few weeks in a cursory fashion. After several minutes of discussion, they had finally managed to convince the priest that their intentions were true, and that their actions were on the path of light. The man graciously accepted the letter, and vowed that it would be delivered. Lew and Quintus turned back to rejoin the others, and see what Rose and Rowan had gotten for all of their goods…

*~ Lew of Osirian*_


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## Old One

*Interlude - Quintus' Journal*

*Quintus’ Log*

_When the exertion of fighting of an ambush and our subsequent flight caught up with Rose, it appeared once again that we were to be destroyed in detail. However in our time together my friends, brother and I have become more attuned to one another. 

We fought the gnoll mob like a band of Emorian legionaries, as a team. The weapons Lathan sold us turned out to be particularly lethal. Their effect on our enemies' morale, coupled with my loud but less than accurate claims of our magical prowess, was devastating. 

There was a moment at the end that will remain with me forever. Their right flank was broken and running. On the left, a small group led by Scarnose had formed a wedge and was rushing our position. Standing atop a boulder, I launched one of Lathan's bolts into the lead gnoll. The shot struck the beast in the face and the subsequent release of magical energy blasted caused its head to erupt. Lew, who is growing ever more capable, then fixed Scarnose in place with *Osirian's* power. These blows, one right after the other, broke the spirit of the remaining gnolls and they routed. 

I am sure what happened next is of fundamental importance. I missed the actual event as I was chasing after Sextus. He continues to win my respect with his courage, but his use of it remains questionable. This time, he charged alone into a copse of trees near the bottom of the hill we were defending. Several gnoll archers had remained there and were pestering us with inaccurate archery. At the time of the the big event, we were coming back up the hill and saw only the shocked look on Drusilla's face. It was also a look that bore recognition. 

Regardless, following the traditions of his people, Rose felt the need to severe his enemy's head and hold it aloft while howling. His victory ritual was interrupted when Scarnose's head transformed into that of a human. Seeking answers to the mystery had to wait while we looted what we could off the gnolls that had fallen and got out of the area before the gnolls could rally. From Scarnose, we acquired a necklace. The ornament was a simple chain with a dagger carved of dull black stone hanging from it. The stone reminded me of a similar necklace worn by Luc, the assistant of the mysterious "R". Rowan slew Luc, who then later returned as an undead wearing a black stone necklace. When I attempted to snatch Luc's necklace, I received a jolt of rancid energy that close to ended my life. I used great care in acquiring Scarnose's necklace. 

We also found a message from "R" to the bandits and a map on Scarnose. The message notes that "R" wants the caravan to reach Glyndyn safely saying that her agents have business with it. The map shows the locations of all the bandit camps in the area. 

As we attempted to find safe place for the evening I kept getting the sensation that some magical power was being used on us. Perhaps it was someone searching for our location. The necklace was the most likely object for a spellcaster to focus on, so we left it behind in a spot we could find later. 

That night, on the thin pretense of continuing Drusilla's crossbow lessons, Sextus and I separated her from the rest of the party. I did this in case the knowledge that caused her to recognize Scarnose's human form did not pertain to our mission. Ladies deserve that courtesy. 

It took some cajoling to get her to relate her tale. But finally, she opened up- telling us not only why she recognized Scarnose but also why she wished to travel to Oar. According to her, Scarnose's human face was that of Acrius, a merchant from Oar. Acrius is the son of Domita Sestius of Oar. He is the son of her first husband, after whose death she married Callian Cassuvius of Glyndyn. This is foul news. The most imperial minded household in our village may have a servant of *Ashai* in its inner circle. 

Drusilla continued, telling us that she was running to Oar to avoid Domita. As in too many of my brother tales, the stepmother is less than friendly. Sextus and I could only shake our heads. Our general state of discomfort spread to the rest of the party when we related the tale to them. That night as I lay sleeping, or perhaps I was awake I am not entirely certain, I sensed a blackness that was seeking me. It seemed a black void opened above me and some formless dread was descending out of it. 

My sense of foreboding did not lessen with the sun's return; others related the same experience. What was that poem grandfather used to recite when he was in the depths of alcoholic brainfever? "Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world," he would say, "The blood dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere, the ceremony of innocence is drowned." I felt the truth of his words that morning. I thought I was hard-bitten while working in the mines of Braithwaite. I was the son of a crippled man. For four years, I had been forced into back breaking and soul rending hours to support my large family. Today, I can see that I knew nothing of suffering then. My innocence is indeed drowning in a sea of blood. 

I am become melodramatic. I will have to ask Sextus the name of the poet and listen to a few of his jests. 

We retrieved the necklace. The sensation of being sought took hold of me again shortly thereafter. I decided, in hindsight probably incorrectly, that the necklace must be the source of the problem. We left the thing attached to two crossed logs near the Great Western Road. Acrius' head, which Rose had kept, is keeping it company. I wrote the word 'Heretic' on a small slate that I hung below the head. That act of spite, taken from one of my grandfather's war stories, produced no satisfaction. In fact, I feel unclean. 

From that low point we tracked the caravan and finally came upon it near the intersection of the Great Western Road and the Oar Road, easily within sight of Greenspire's ruins. We learned that the Swords are accompanying the caravan north. Once Drusilla heard that the sons of other noble Glynden families, including her former fiancee Tomas Nacalius, were with the traders she would not enter their camp. Her fear at being discovered by them was extreme. 

We left her outside of the camp with Sextus. Lew and I went to seek out Sergeant-Brother Pantonius, a representative of the Church of Light who was journeying to Glynden with the caravan. Rowan and Rose took all the equipment we have looted to a trader in hopes of bringing our group some much-needed cash. Initially, I let Lew take the lead with Pantonius. However, I could not keep my mouth shut as Lew began to give away every detail of our lives and current mission. If *Ashai's* servants can infiltrate a family so noble as Cassuvius, who knows where else they may be. So I eased over Lew and told a more restrained version of recent events. As I talked to the man, I began to have a better feel for his sincerity, but still I am opposed to telling anyone more information than is necessary. 

We asked Pantonius to take a letter to Father Thomas detailing information we have acquired since leaving Glynden. I also asked him to consider staying in Glynden to aid our village in its struggle against the growing power of the Ashai cult. I laid compliments, thickly spread with honey, on the priest. I hope he will respond in the same idealistic manner that other committed members of the Church seem to when faced with evil. 

Following that meeting we returned to Sextus and await Rose and Rowan. I hope their bargaining went well, as I believe that with just a few more denarii I can finally purchase the components I need to summon a familiar to aid our mission. I am also very certain that in the next few days I will be able to work out the final details on a new spell.

*~ Quintus Scipio*_


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## Old One

*Interlude - Quintus' Schemes*

*Quintus' Schemes, Problems & Issues*

*Cult of Ashai* - Who is "R" and what is her problem? What is her connection to the bandits? Who are her people in or around Glyndyn (Domita Sestius of Oar, Cassuvius' wife is a good candidate)? She is operating near Glyndyn and the bandits are interdicting same, is there a reason? Will Cthulu be waking soon?

*Oar* - Outside of more info on Ashai types, what do we want? We need more info on Acrius/Scarface. How do we tie Drusilla to us after we deliver her to Oar? Do we seek out a couple of adventurous types to help us clear up the bandit problem on the way home?

*Scrying* - without looking it up in the book (until PC's actually research it), how do we stop it and who the hell is scrying us? R?

*Fortress Scipio* - we need to finish clearing it, that necromantic light was blue usually Osirion's color. Can it be established as a new western trading post w/ Tribes? Maybe solidify Kothric connection to further this.

*The Mine Traces* - can they be a source of profit? Luella to talk to Roget Crow about this. Tried to get Olanda Batterhorn of the caravan to meet with Luella. Braithewaite will be rather upset if he finds out.

*Drusilla* - Does she stand to inherit Cassuvius holdings? Q would not marry her for that reason, but he would certainly dream of it (conscience interferes with purely Machiavellian political manuevers). Q is hung up on Abigail so would not move beyond consideration of a relationship. Probably blew that option with weak first impression, plus she's 21 too old for us. How do we tie her fate to ours following our journey to Oar? Her brother went missing near Lords fifteen years ago is a recon in our future (did not one of R's maps look like it led to Lords?)

*Ned Gallway* - still have his scroll, his lacks original leverage over Q. With family in close proximity to and working for Fr. Thomas more overt retaliation such as violence or kidnapping seems unlikely. Need to come up with good way to resolve this.

*Abrigal* - missing, only clue was footsteps leading into and out of mine trace that may have been hers, Q hung up on her.

*The Swords of Glynden* - Encounter w/ Tomas at caravan less than satisfactory, Orsen needs to be put in his place. No murderous violence allowed. What is their connection to Cassuvius' wife? Tomas was engaged to Drusilla at one time.

*Glynden's Council* - must be rich to get on. As a member of the council Q could bring the Scipio name back into some prominence, plus its harder for local opposition to mess with him.

*Sabrina* - gotta get her away from Orsen. Best course to leave her alone and use subtle manipulation like gifts and letters to soften her heart.

*Josephus of Bremerton* - pissed at accusation but probably guilty, Sextus and Q "allowed" one of Gallway's flunkies to overhear that Joe may have scroll. Could eliminate a problem, could result in alliance against us.

*Others* - What is up with Lew's shoes _(DM's Note: Somewhat of an inside joke with the group. Virtually every time Lew rolls a spot or listen check, the result is 5 or less, so we say that "Lew is busy examining his shoes!")_? How do we get Rose to hit something in combat? Why does Sextus look so sexy in that tunic? Is Rowan's relationship with his new bow going to cause moral concerns for the rest of the party? Why did Corey take the Woodrow Wilson Bridge when past xp says this is a dumb move?

*~ Quintus Scipio*


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## Old One

*Session 11 (Part One)*

When we last left our intrepid band, they had finally found the Glynden-bound caravan and warned them of the gnoll bandit activity in the area. They unloaded most of the captured gear from their last several encounters with a hard-bargaining halfling trader from House Schulcross and made the brief acquaintance of Sergeant-Brother Pantonius of _Tyrial_, a church knight enroute to Glynden. Sergeant-Brother Pantonius agreed to carry several missives to Father Thomas on their behalf. While departing the caravan encampment with Lew, Quintus heard a familiar voice…

*Quintus Invents a Flying Machine*

“I heard that you were around…the whole encampments abuzz with news of the ‘gnoll-slayers’ from Glynden.”

Quintus turned slowly to see the squat, broad-shouldered form of Tomas “The Bull” Nacalius perched nonchalantly atop a crumbled wall, legs dangling. The young warrior was clad in a well-polished lorica hamata and greaves. His heavy helm, inlaid with silver designs, lay next to him and the silvered hilt of a spatha jutted from a tooled leather scabbard. Tomas had adopted a new hairstyle since Quintus had last seen him. His reddish-gold hair was cropped short, but two long mustachios, twirled and waxed, crowned is upper lip. Behind Tomas, barely visible in the morning fog, lounged retainers. Everything about Tomas spoke of wealth and power. Quintus, beset by financial obligations and perennially scraping for every denarii, hated him for it!

Warily eyeing his erstwhile friend, Quintus greeted him cautiously.

_(DM’s Note: Tomas and Quintus were friends when they were younger. As they grew, however, station and wealth began to separate them and they had a final falling out when Tomas refused to help Quintus search for his missing cousins, Meikos and Wynda and took the side of Orsen Jucadius in the “Sabrina incident”.)_

They spoke amiably with each other, sharing news of the road and other mundane pleasantries. Lew, watching the interplay betwixt the pair, felt the palpable tension that roiled just below the surface of the outwardly civil conversation. Quintus noted a momentary look of concern flit across Tomas’ face when he related the fate of the two slain retainers, but the red-haired warrior smoothly deflected additional discussion by commenting on Orsen and Sabrina. Quintus, unable to keep his growing frustration in check, wished Tomas and the rest of the caravan safe journey to the North.

“We are so glad that the _Swords of Glynden_ will be providing additional protection for the remainder of the Northward journey,” the sorcerer said, forcing the sarcastic words through his unwilling teeth.

“As are we, my friend, as are we. These halfling merchants are paying a handsome bonus for our blades!” Tomas continued to gaze at Quintus with a maddening half-smile playing across his lips, his voice dripping with insincere mirth.

Quintus turned on his heel, “Until we meet again then…come Lew!”

Fuming, the eldest Scipio son stalked through the morning mist without looking back,grumbling to himself all the while. Behind him, Tomas “The Bull” Nacalius fingered the hilt of his spatha and chuckled to himself. After 40 or so paces, Quintus pulled up so abruptly that Lew almost ran over him. “Damn. There is one more thing we must do!”

Retracing his steps, the sorcerer led the priest back into camp, inquiring from all they passed about anyone with known magical powers. After several false starts, they were finally directed to the encampment of House Battenhorn with the name of one Ollandia Battenhorn. Approaching a well-appointed pavilion with topped by a blue flag bearing a white ship, Quintus spotted an enormous raven perched atop the banner. Fingers twitching reflexively, the sorcerer began to summon the power to launch a magic missile at the bird before catching himself.

The avian creature regarded the pair with a depthless black eye and croaked throatily. After a moment, the flap to the pavilion stirred and an attractive young halfling female, hair pulled back in a simple ponytail and clad in fine traveling leathers, emerged from the pavilion to the continuous cawing of the bird.

“Yes, yes…I see we have visitors. I am Ollandia Battenhorn. How may I be of service this fine morn?”

Quintus inquired about several items, including identification of the magic items acquired during the bizarre meeting with Lathan and Bogwell, the type of trading House Battenhorn was known for and the potential for doing business with ore from abandoned Western Mines. If Quintus was expecting great things, he came away somewhat disappointed. Ollandia’s repertoire of spells did not include the spell the sorcerer sought and the more they spoke, the more Quintus came to suspect that her power was similar to his own – natural and untrained.

Ollandia explained that House Battenhorn’s main business was shipping, but they had a strong sideline in the trade of raw ores and metal goods. Quintus probed further, hoping to reach some kind of accommodation or assistance from the trade representative in re-opening the Western Mines. She indicated that the House was always interested in new sources for trade, but that they had neither the manpower nor the inclination to actually participate in the extraction process. Disappointed, Quintus at least secured her agreement to speak with Luella (his sister) about making arrangements for future contacts.

Mostly dissatisfied with the results of the morning’s efforts, Quintus and Lew departed to find the others. Quintus said little as they checked their gear and turned south, retracing their steps down from the hilltop bowl that held Greenspire and continuing down the Oar Road. As the morning sun burned away the mist, they say the trading caravan cresting the other side of bowl, bound for Glynden. 

The journey south took them into unfamiliar territory – land that none of them had seen before! Fortunately, the Emorian-built highway made travel easy and the party quickly left Greenspire behind, traveling through rolling pastoral lands and light woods towards a line of low hills several days march distant. The weather began to warm significantly as they went and they soon smelled of sweat and unwashed clothes. They kept a hard pace, seeking to make good time to Oar. At night, they could hear the howling of wolves floating along with the evening breeze – sometimes close-by and other times far in the distance – but were not bothered by any. From time to time, they spotted one or two of the enormous brutes skulking well out of arrow range.

As they reached the summit of the hills, they decided to halt and rest for several days. Rowan wanted to refresh their waning larder by hunting, Drusilla was flagging somewhat from the continuous marching and Quintus wanted some time to ponder the increasing power that was filling his mind. For several days, he felt as if he were on the verge of opening a new door to additional power and need some time to rest and concentrate on it. They found a fine campsite just over the crest, which overlooked a broad river valley that ran from the northwest to the southeast across their line of march. Beyond the river, another line of hills, slightly lower than the one they were on, awaited. Rowan’s sharp eyes made out what looked to be several buildings clustered around a stone bridge in the middle of the valley.

They rested for two days. Rowan located a lovely waterfall and pool several bowshots from the camp and everyone had the opportunity to clean up (except Rosë, who insisted that the rains would come when he needed to bathe). Rowan and Rosë had several successful hunting forays and Quintus was able to unlock the secret from his mind, obtaining the power to call upon _Alter Self_. That evening, several of those on watch were awakened by the sounds of a large animal moving about near the camp, but despite several false alarms, no attack was forthcoming. The departed the camp and headed down the stone road into the valley.

During the morning, several party members felt as if they were being watched, but none could discern the tell-tale flickering or disturbance in the air the usually presaged magical scrying. Concerned, Quintus asked everyone to stop for a breather and disappeared into a thicket. Several of the party members looked questioningly at Sextus, but the younger Scipio merely smiled broadly. A few moments later, soft chanting arose from the thicket and a huge, misshapen flying creature – somewhat of a cross between a goose, a turkey and an eagle – flapped drunkenly from the bushes and rose into the air with ungainly flaps of its mismatched wings. Rosë stifled a cry of alarm and quickly nocked an arrow, but Sextus, chuckling, placed a hand on his arm and whispered, “That’s Quintus.”

Shaking his head, the barbarian lowered his bow and watched as the creature fought for altitude. As Quintus rose from the ground, he fought hard against the feeling of vertigo that threatened to send him plummeting to the earth. He had been atop high places before, but had never seen the world from such an vantage point. Fortunately, the winds were calm, so he did not have to contend with additional buffeting. For about 15 turns of the minute glass, Quintus tested the form he had created with Alter Self, discovering how to turn, climb and descend without falling out of the sky. Satisfied, he began to circle about the area and fly up and down the party’s line of travel, looking for signs of enemies or pursuit. He attempted to “fly casually”, so any watchers would not be able to discern him from a normal bird – thus was *Squawk* born!

_(DM’s Note: I had Quintus’ player make a DC 10 Int check to get the size, shape and coloring of his “bird” right. I think he rolled a “2”, so his first effort was haphazard in the extreme! In addition, since the *Alter Self* spell only allows weight to be changed by 50%, the critter weighed 65-lbs, which is incredibly heavy for a bird! The players quickly dubbed his effort *“The Squawk”*. Subsequent uses of the spell improved the form somewhat, but it is still big, ungainly and ugly!)

Shortly before the spell was due to expire, the *Squawk* caught some movement atop the ridgeline they had vacated earlier that day. Wheeling in for a closer look, the *Squawk’s* feathers ruffled when he noted several gnolls, dressed in brown leathers with stripped green and brown cloaks, nosing about their former campsite. Just before he turned to rejoin his companions, *Squawk* spied another gnoll emerging from some scrub brush. Straining against their chain collars were two enormous black wolves, over two paces high at the shoulder! They were, at most, two hours behind his companions. Winging his way back to where the rest of the party waited, the *Squawk’s* blood ran cold…they were being hunted!

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 11 (Part Two) – How Paranoid are We?*

Old One_


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## Old One

*Interlude - Old One's Tactics Lesson*

As some of you may know, I am an ex-military officer and a couple of people have posted asking about tactics that I use or have used in the past for NPCs and monsters. I will preface my tactics section with a couple of general comments to take into consideration when designing tactics for your own use:

*General Considerations*

*Alignment* - Typically, the more "lawful" in alignment, the better the overall tactics are going to be. For example, gnolls (CE) might be able to set-up a great ambush, but once it is sprung, every gnoll is fighting on their own and will not respond well to further orders except from a very strong leader. Hobgoblins, on the other hand, might execute a great ambush, then respond well to complex additional commands throughout the battle.

*Training/Experience* - Very important! Don't expect town guards or militia to be capable of intricate maneuvers or independant action. Also, rank and file members of humanoid tribes (goblins, orcs, etc) typically aren't going to be able to more than advance, attack and retreat absent additional training or very good leadership. These types tend to follow the last orders they were given, aren't very imaginative and their morale tends to be pretty brittle.

Veteran soldiers and humanoids with a strong culture (hobgoblins) should be capable of a variety of situational tactics, will use terrain intelligently, will use scouts and other intelligence gathering sources (like familiars) and are capable of independant action without constant leadership direction.

*Leadership* - Critically important, especially with poorly trained troops and creatures. One or two strong leaders can make a huge difference and spur even ill-trained forces to achieve great things. Conversely, the loss the such a leader will typically affect a poorly trained force much more than a veteran force, often causing them to break and run.

*Morale* - Great training and superior leadership can all be sabotaged by poor morale. Likewise, good morale can enable a force to stand in the face of overwhelming odds and continue to function. Poorly trained and led forces tend to have brittle morale, so a couple of casualties or the loss of a leader will cause them to turn and run. Elite forces can sustain enormous casualties and still fight - but virtually every unit does have its breaking point. In addition, failing morale is usually contagious. If a unit (or individual, in small unit actions) breaks and runs, then surrounding units often do as well, turning a retreat by the few into the rout of the many. Up through the Napoleonic period, most casualties on the losing side were suffered during the pursuit after the army broke and fled the field of battle.

*Culture* - In some cultures, honor and glory come from individual combat (Homeric Greece, Celts and Germanic tribesmen), not neccessarily from winning the battle. Such cultures are far less likely to develop and utilize complex battlefield tactics and fight as individuals or small family groups once swords are crossed.

*Intelligence* - Most creatures have a fairly strong sense of self preservation and will seek to survive whenever possible. Very few creatures will fight to the death unless they are: (a) Complete fanatics (b) Convinced they will die if they surrender (ie, fighting a foe they know kills all prisoners) (c) Fighting against an immediate threat to home and loved ones (d) Very stupid. They will either seek to flee or, if flight is impossible, they will try to surrender. All too often, I see DMs have every creature that enters combat with the PCs fight mindlessly to the end, even when hopelessly outmatched.

*Tactics*

Tactics - These are some that I have found useful and that I posted to another board. The discussion was about hobgoblins, so they are referenced throughout the commentary.

*(1) Concentration of Firepower* - Typically, each enemy matches up against a PC. This is STUPID! Instead, they should concentrate all of their attention on the most dangerous looking PC first...all offensive spells, missile fire and melee attacks go against one PC until that one drops, then action moves to the next PC and so on. Enemies that can't attack, due to placement, will hold position with either readied actions or full defense.

*(2) Feigned Retreat* - One of my favorites, especially if you have PCs that break from the group to chase fleeing enemies. After the PCs take a couple out, the remainder turn and flee to a pre-arranged ambush/rally spot - usually around a blind corner or a room with good cover (ie, storage room with crates). Once there, they turn and pounce on the pursuing PC(s).

*(3) Playing Dead* - This one works great with (2) above. After swords are crossed, a couple of the opponents drop right after being hit and the remainder turn and flee. Of course, the ones that fell are only playing dead and rise up behind the pursuing PCs, catching them in a vice when the ambush is sprung (the old 'hammer and anvil' trick).

*(4) Break Contact* - Not used nearly enough by most DMs. If the PC clearly outmatch them, the combat team breaks contact and flees, preferrably by seperate routes, to a pre-designated rally point. Slugging it out with a clearly superior enemy toe-to-toe is foolish. The adepts/sorcerers might have a scroll with obscuring mist or wall of fog to help assist with this.

*(5) Critical Mass at the Point of Attack* - Use several combat teams to hit the PCs from different directions using the tactics above. The PCs will think they have died and gone to hell! Have the enemies break contact, regroup, drink their healing potions and come at 'em again and again.

*(6) Hit and Run* - Don't stand and fight! Pop out of a corridor, launch a round of attacks and move out. Use space and time to wear the party down, use up their resources and weaken them. Concentrate attacks and fire on obviously wounded PCs to take them out of the action.

If your PCs are getting cocky or don't use sound tactics, it is time to give them a drubbing they will never forget!

Old One


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## RangerWickett

Ack, it is long, but I will read it, if for nothing else than so that I can fill out the poll.  I'll settle on one chapter a day, though, so maybe I can spread my reading across three storyhours.

Of course, the part I should be starting on isn't even on _these_ boards.  Sheesh, a lot of reading ahead.


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## Old One

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *Ack, it is long, but I will read it, if for nothing else than so that I can fill out the poll.  I'll settle on one chapter a day, though, so maybe I can spread my reading across three storyhours.
> 
> Of course, the part I should be starting on isn't even on these boards.  Sheesh, a lot of reading ahead. *




RW -

Thanks for stopping by!  Actually, I have ported the entire story hour, sans commentary, over to the new board.  I am in the process of re-formatting everything for tense and easy reading!

Take care,

Old One


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## Old One

It took me a long time to get the threads presentable, so I won't get to the next update tonight...look for it on Thursday!

Old One


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## Old One

*Session 11 (Part Two)*

*How Paranoid Are We?*

The *Squawk* made a percipitous descent back to the party - overshooting his landing site and crashing into a thicket of _grosbush_.  A somewhat rumpled Quintus emerged a few minutes later and informed the party of the gnolls and wolves trailing them.  An animated discussion ensued - with some in the party wanting to backtrack and attack the gnolls and some arguing to keep moving south at all possible speed.  In the end, they opted for a cautious southward advance, with heavy use of scouting - both ground and aerial as Quintus' spells permitted.

The next several days were _very_ tense and both nerves and tempers frayed.  As they approached the ruins around the stone bridge in the river valley floor, they noted wolf spoor and caught several glimpses of gnolls and wolves to the flank.  Fearing an ambush, the party made a painstakingly slow advance - first clearing the northern shore, then moving across the bridge with the *Squawk* providing air cover and clearing the buildings on the south side.  Their arms cramped from holding arrows nocked and their eyes tired from the strain of looking for enemies in every shadow!  They fully expected an ambush to sprung at any moment...

After successfully reaching the southern shore of the river, the party set-up their own ambush and waited a full day, prepared for a gnoll assault that never materialized.  Finally, they tired of the cat-and-mouse game and continued south.  Over the next week, they passed out of the river valley - cresting another line of hills that ran northwest to southeast.  At the apex, they had a good view of the land ahead.

_(DM's Note: This part of the session was somewhat humorous - at least from my standpoint!  The players were *AMAZINGLY* paranoid...they expected a horrific ambush to be sprung at any time.  Instead, the gnolls and wolves shadowed their movements, staying behind and two the flanks, always *just* out of arrow range.  The longer time went on with nothing happening, the more paranoid they became...just like I like it!)_

Wooded, rolling hills lay close by - similar to the country they had been traveling through.  Far in the distance, however, Rowan thought he could see the particolored patchwork of fields with a broad, shining expanse of silvery-blue stretching endlessly beyond that...The Crescent Sea.  Set against the silvery-blue, at the end of the Oar Road, lay a white speck, the port city of Oar.  Rowan judged it to still be several days distant, but all were heartened that their destination was now in view.  They were equally heartened that there were now signs of pursuit by the gnolls and the howling of wolves had faded into the distance.

They traveled down the Emorian-built road for several more days, coming down from the hills and into a small forest.  Towards evening on their fifth day after crossing the river, Rowan caught the faint scent of roasting meat.  Quickly, but cautiously, the ranger moved around a slight bend in the road.  Behind him, far down the line of march, Rosë caught the smell of something as well.  "ALE!", the barbarian bellowed, jogging forward up the line of march, mouth watering in anticipation!

In a small clearing on the western side of the Oar Road stood a ramshackle two-story building, surrounded by several rickety out buildings and a wooden stockade of dubious quality.  A faded and cracked sign proclaimed the _Two-Headed Stag Inn and Wayhouse_, complete with a rendering of the namesake.  Quintus stopped for a moment, surveying the decrepit building with a disapproving eye, but the others, drawn by the smell of the evening meal cooking, rushed inside without a second thought!

A heavy-set balding man with the hairiest arms any of them had ever seen, greeted them from behind the bar.  He introduced himself as Brecken and asked their business, warily eyeing their weapons.  Half-a-dozen patrons, dressed in treadbare tunics and oft-patched muddy boots, lounged about near the hearth, listening raptly to the soft singing of a female _saar_, soft tawny pelt dappled with darker brown and black spots and clad in diaphanous robes.  Quintus, his quick mind seeing an opportunity, stepped to the fore and announced they sought lodging for the evening.

_(DM's Note: *Saar* are a race of felinoids that typically travel about the land in small troupes, providing entertainment at the towns and settlements they pass through.  They have a strong oral tradition and make wonderful bards, although many remain illiterate their entire lives.  They are not a numerous race and their origins are shrouded in mystery.  Most of the party have seen but one or two in their lifetimes.)_

After sorting out the sleeping arrangements, Brecken quoted them a price of 70 denarii - including the evening meal and breakfast.  Quintus, keenly aware of the lightness of their collective purses, countered with a request for a substantial discount if Sextus provided entertainment for the evening.  "As you can see, good sir," Brecken replied with a toothy smile spreading across his broad face, "we already have a fine entertainer in Brigit there.  She is always up for a challenge, however, so perhaps your brother can best her in a test of skill!"

With a little goading from Quintus, Sextus agreed and a substantial discount was agreed to _IF_ Sextus could best the inn's "champion".  In addition, Quintus laid a side bet of 50 denarii with Brecken.  Still grinning, the inn-keeper agreed, then bellowed for his daughter to show the guests to their room. 

Alyssa was a gangling girl of perhaps 14 winters, whose jerky movements and awkward speech belied all the discomfort that comes with the transition from girl to woman.  She told them that a bathing tub was set-up out back, but it would be half-a-turn of the hourglass until the water was heated.  Everyone but Rosë took advantage of the crude, but relaxing, bathing facility.

When questioned, the Brigante grunted, "I bathe when it rains!"

After they had all cleaned up, they descended into the common room and took a table for their evening meal.  Drusilla was the last to arrive and she looked radient, freshly washed and having used the magical hair comb given to her by Lathan.  A quiet hush fell over the inn as she made her way to were the rest of the party sat as many eyes rested upon her in mute admiration.

Roast venison, steamed potatoes and tasty brown bread followed.  All agreed the meal was delicious, although Rosë complained about the quality of the ale.  Finding there was nothing else to be had, the barbarian decided to sacrifice quality for quantity and ordered pitcher after pitcher.  As they ate, more and more people arrived at the inn and the common room was soon packed with woodsmen, trappers and scrub-farmers, all anticipating the impending contest.

Once they had finished eating, they received a nod from Brecken, who pushed his way to the front of the room and raised his voice above the din.  

"Greeting friends and neighbors!  We have a special treat for you on this eve before Midsummers' Eve!  A bard's challenge has been issued this night by Sextus Scipio of Glynden to our own lovely Brigit!"

Defeaning applause drowned out Brecken's voice for a few moments and he waved his hands and bellowed for quiet.

"The challenge will be the best of three performances, with audience cheering and acclaim deciding the winner at the end.  Since Sextus is the visitor, he has the choice of performing first or second...I give you Sextus of Glynden!"

The diminutive Scipio made his way through the crowd, how hooted and slapped him on the back as he made his way forward to stand next to Brecken and Brigit.  A smile streched from halfway around his head and his companions could tell that Sextus was eating the attention up.  He turned to Brigit, who was watching him intently with the softly glowing eyes of the _saar_, performed a florid bow and rumbled in his deep baritone, "I must give way to the beauty before me, the lady may go first."

The crowd roared its approval and Brigit nodded to him, stepped before the hearth and launched into a lilting and haunting song, sung in the language of her people and accompanied by her lute.  Sextus countered with a bawdy tale of the shepard and the farmer's daughter.  The contest was on and the two performers battled back and forth - each doing well.  The applause of the crowd rose for both as they juggled and told stories.

Through two performances each, Quintus judged them to be somewhat even.  Then, Brigit produced two colorful fans.  She began tapping them on the table and asked the audience to keep the beat.  Then she launched into a sinewy and seductive dance - twirling her robes and moving the fans through intricate patterns as she gyrated.  She finished by leaping atop one of the tables and twirling about rapidly, fans flashing.  Thunderous applause echoed across the room and Sextus knew he must give his best performance or he was done.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and began to recite an epic poem of the glory days of the Empire.  His deep, vibrant voice held their attention and he did well, but it was not enough.  He knew as he ended that he had lost and he turned and bowed to Brigit again even before Brecken called for applause and acclaim to decide the winner.  Although disappointed, his companions welcomed him back to the table with smiles and nods.  Sextus looked up to find Drusilla's blue eyes levelled at him and a half-smile perched on her lips.  Flushing brightly, he ducked his head and turned away.  Both Quintus and Rowan noted the looks exchanged.

Brecken made his way over to their table with a tray of drinks.  "Don't look so glum...that was well done!  This round is on me!"

He set the tray down and everyone but Quintus grabbed their mugs and began to drink.  Brecken stood over the sorcerer for a moment grinning broadly.  With an audible sigh, Quintus fished 50 denarii from his nearly empty purse and handed it to the innkeeper.  Brecken winked, spun on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.  Quintus felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Heyyy," Rosë slurred, "ya gonna drink your ale?'

Quintus glumly shook his head and the beverage quickly disappeared down the barbarian's gullet.  Flush with drink, Rosë laughed at some jest and everyone but Quintus joined in.  The sorcerer was lost in thought - already worrying about what they would do once they reached Oar.

_(DM's Note: I used opposed rolls with *Performance* skill checks for the bards' contest.  Both Brigit and Sextus rolled for each round and I kept a running total of the combined scores.  I also gave Brigit a +2 circumstance bonus to the total since she was performing on her home turf.  It was pretty even through two rounds, but the "Fan Dance" did Sextus in - IIRC, I rolled a "19" for her on that one.  Sextus came close, but it wasn't quite good enough.  Also, Quintus does not drink alcohol...his grandfather and great-grandfather both succumbed debilitating alcoholism at relatively early ages, ruining the family name and fortune in the process.)_

*To Be Continued...*

*Next: Session 12 (Part One) - The Big City*

Old One


----------



## Rel

Excellent pacing, Old One!  I can easily envision this session in my mind's eye.  The party is incredibly on edge, knowing they are being trailed by the Gnolls and expecting ambush at any second.  Then they discover this remote inn that signals their arrival on the edge of civilization and all that tension drains away.  Then the "Bard's Challenge" is put forth to add a new, but more lighthearted, tension.

The obvious next step is to have assassins attack them as they sleep in the perceived safety of the Two Headed Stag...


----------



## Old One

*Thanks for Stopping By!*



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> *Excellent pacing, Old One!  I can easily envision this session in my mind's eye.  The party is incredibly on edge, knowing they are being trailed by the Gnolls and expecting ambush at any second.  Then they discover this remote inn that signals their arrival on the edge of civilization and all that tension drains away.  Then the "Bard's Challenge" is put forth to add a new, but more lighthearted, tension.
> 
> The obvious next step is to have assassins attack them as they sleep in the perceived safety of the Two Headed Stag... *




Rel-

Good to see you over in our luxurious new digs...be interesting to see what happens when the flood gates open!  

The session was interesting because my group usually moves along at a pretty good pace, no lollygagging around.  This time, they were very slow and deliberate...and were almost afraid to cross the river...they were so sure they were going to get jumped!

There was almost a visible collective sigh of relief when they made it to the *Two-Headed Stag*...nothing had tried to kill them for over a week!

Anyway, I hope to have the first part of *Session 12* up by tomorrow, as we play again on Sunday.

Old One


----------



## Ziggy

Hi OldOne!

I'm happy to see that the story made the transition to the new boards, and very happy that you are posting again. 

It looks like we are heading into new areas with the story, I'm looking forward to seeing what new surprises the DM has in his sleeve..

.Ziggy (a regular reader from Norway)


----------



## Galfridus

*Re: Session 11 (Part Two)*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> After they had all cleaned up, they descended into the common room and took a table for their evening meal.  Drusilla was the last to arrive and she looked radient, freshly washed and having used the magical hair comb given to her by Lathan.  A quiet hush fell over the inn as she made her way to were the rest of the party sat as many eyes rested upon her in mute admiration.




Heh, "mute admiration"...that's just cruel.


----------



## Oberton

Well done, I really liked the pacing Old One.    

The scene in the bar was excellent and well done.  Your description of the events makes me feel like I am there!

Keep up the great work!



O'Berton 
(AKA: Warren LaFrance)
http://www.mmpog.net


----------



## Old One

*Heh, Heh, Heh...*



			
				Galfridus said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Heh, "mute admiration"...that's just cruel.  *




Galfridus -

Thanks for stopping by our new home!  Of course it is cruel...I am a Rat Bastard DM, after all!

Old One


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## Old One

*O'berton in the House!*



			
				Oberton said:
			
		

> *Well done, I really liked the pacing Old One.
> 
> The scene in the bar was excellent and well done.  Your description of the events makes me feel like I am there!
> 
> Keep up the great work!
> 
> 
> 
> O'Berton
> (AKA: Warren LaFrance)
> http://www.mmpog.net *




Warren,

Great to see you over here!  If you liked this one, just wait until you see the write-up(s) from *Session 12*!

Old One


----------



## Oberton

*Great Resources by Monte Cook*

I picked this list off of Monte Cooks web-site.  This is a real treasure trove of info folks, enjoy:

---------- From the Keyboard of Monte -------------
http://www.montecook.com/

The following list is part of a handout I used at the game design workshop I ran at Gen Con 2001. While some items on the list (the writing books) are specifically for people who write games professionally, the others are excellent reference works for DMs running D&D campaigns.

Ask for these titles at your library, bookstore, or newsstand.

Fiction Writer's Workshop (Josip Novakovich) 
The Beginning Writer's Answer Book (Polking)
The Art of Dramatic Writing (Reginald Bretnor, ed.)
The Thirty-Six Dramatic Situations (Georges Polti)
Revising Prose (Latham)
All solid reference books on the craft and business of writing in general.


Medieval Life (John Guy)
How Would You Survive in the Middle Ages? (Fiona Macdonald)
The Encyclopedia of the Middle Ages (Norman Cantor)
Life in a Medieval Village (J. and F. Gies)
Life in a Medieval Castle (J. and F. Gies)
The Ancient Americas (Time-Life's Making of the Past series)
What Life Was Like... and Time Frame (Time-Life series)
Wizards and Sorcerers: From Abracadabra to Zoroaster (Tom Ogden)
Encyclopedia of Gods: Over 2,500 Deities of the World (Michael Jordan)
The Dictionary of Ancient Egypt (Ian Shaw and Paul Nicholson)
Helpful references for designers of medieval or ancient fantasy settings.


The Atlas of Ancient Archaeology (Hawkes)
Roman Architecture (Sear)
The Atlas Sacred Places (James Harpuri)
City: A Story of Roman Planning and Construction (David MacAuley)
Pyramid and Cathedral (David MacAulay)
These will help you understand the layout of ancient temples, medieval castles, etc.


The Hero With a Thousand Faces (Joseph Campbell)
A World of Baby Names (Teresa Norman)
The Dictionary of American Family Names (Elsdon C. Smith)
Psychiatric Dictionary (Robert Campbell)]
The International Encyclopedia of Astronomy (Patrick Moore)
The American Medical Association Encyclopedia of Medicine (Charles B. Clayman, ed.)
What's What: A Visual Glossary of the Physical World (David Fisher and Reginald Bragonier, Jr.)
Dictionary of Anthropology (Charles Winick)
AMA Handbook of Poisonous and Injurious Plants (Kenneth E. Lampe)
The Parennial Dictionary of World Religions (Keith Crim, ed.)
Space Almanac (Anthony R. Curtis)
The Encyclopedia of Evolution: Humanity's Search for its Origins (Richard Milner)
Bartlett's Familiar Quotations (John Bartlett)
A Dictionary of 19th-Century World History (John Belchem and Richard Price, eds.)
Timetables of History (Bernard Grun)
Harbrace College Handbook (of English grammar, John C. Hodges and Mary E. Whitten)
General reference works.


----------



## Old One

*O'berton Strikes Again!*

Great listing!

I will have to dig through my collection back home and post my favorites...

In fact, this would be a great post for the _General_ or _DM_ forums.

Old One


----------



## Pillars of Hercules

[rythmic chanting]

Old One! Old One! Old One!

[/rythmic chanting]

Woo hoo, great to see a new update!  

Lane, this is awkward and all, but I was wondering whether you would mind if I took out Beth, err, Drusilla?


----------



## Old One

Pillars of Hercules said:
			
		

> *[rythmic chanting]
> 
> Old One! Old One! Old One!
> 
> [/rythmic chanting]
> 
> Woo hoo, great to see a new update!
> 
> Lane, this is awkward and all, but I was wondering whether you would mind if I took out Beth, err, Drusilla?   *




_"Badger, what's a little boy like you doing with big boy smut like this?"_ The Postman, *Better Off Dead*

I am prepping for today's session right now, so I won't get to another update until early next week...look for more fun and follies soon!

Old One


----------



## Ancalagon

Great work as always Old one!

The squark made me laugh.  We have a transmuter who uses that spell (elf).  He basicaly reduces his weight and springs huge butterflies wing.  Now I always thought it was ridiculous (but realistic... the spell gives you a slow flying speed and atrocious maneurvability) but this was funnier 

Ancalagon


----------



## Darklone

*Bards do Rock (n Roll?)*

Heyho Old One, 

Well... the new boards... something new to get accustomed to (I get old).

Storyline: Hilarious as ever... paranoid players... female bards ... I THINK I met a similar barkeep a few weeks ago... But aren't they all the same? (Well my bard won there ... but against another male)

Let's see how the players start to earn some cash in Oar. Perhaps dancing on the tables somewhere  ? I really like how you let them pay.... My players always got too many cash... Not that they would agree though.


May the sun shine always on the dagger in your back!

Darklone


----------



## Dougal DeKree

*...the amazingly time-eating storyhour*

Hello OldOne!

just finished with the whole storyhour - i started reading it only last week and i have to say excellent work! Use of the rules, creating the mood/paranoia, enchanting that table of yours - just plain perfect.
By the way, did your players read quickbeams how-to-influence-a-die-guide? It's veeery helpful    but for now...i am waiting...for more...

Dougal DeKree

"When you are totally down, there is only one direction it can go!"
"Sideways?!"


----------



## Tortoise

And now for a little poetry break ...



The money comes
The money goes
Who will steal it?
The DM knows!

Thank you, thank you

Talk about rapidly changing fortunes. Here Rowan was about to retire wealthy enough to take good care of Q's sister Maxima when the winds of fortune shifted and ...

Well, let's just say he's determined to get a little "payback".


I'll leave it at that and let Old One tickle your imaginations with the recent events.


----------



## Old One

Ancalagon said:
			
		

> *Great work as always Old one!
> 
> The squark made me laugh.  We have a transmuter who uses that spell (elf).  He basicaly reduces his weight and springs huge butterflies wing.  Now I always thought it was ridiculous (but realistic... the spell gives you a slow flying speed and atrocious maneurvability) but this was funnier
> 
> Ancalagon *




Ancalagon -

Glad to see you over on the new boards!  If anyone who knows what they are doing ever gets a close look at the *Squawk*, Quintus might be in trouble!

Thanks for stopping by!

Old One


----------



## Old One

*Re: Bards do Rock (n Roll?)*



			
				Darklone said:
			
		

> *Heyho Old One,
> 
> Well... the new boards... something new to get accustomed to (I get old).
> 
> Storyline: Hilarious as ever... paranoid players... female bards ... I THINK I met a similar barkeep a few weeks ago... But aren't they all the same? (Well my bard won there ... but against another male)
> 
> Let's see how the players start to earn some cash in Oar. Perhaps dancing on the tables somewhere  ? I really like how you let them pay.... My players always got too many cash... Not that they would agree though.
> 
> 
> May the sun shine always on the dagger in your back!
> 
> Darklone *




Darklone -

Guten Tag!  The PCs actually managed to get some cash the last session, although they lost some almost immediately afterwards!  Anyway, I hope to have the next session or two up over the next several days...

Stay tuned!

Old One


----------



## Old One

*Re: ...the amazingly time-eating storyhour*



			
				Dougal DeKree said:
			
		

> *Hello OldOne!
> 
> just finished with the whole storyhour - i started reading it only last week and i have to say excellent work! Use of the rules, creating the mood/paranoia, enchanting that table of yours - just plain perfect.
> By the way, did your players read quickbeams how-to-influence-a-die-guide? It's veeery helpful    but for now...i am waiting...for more...
> 
> Dougal DeKree
> 
> "When you are totally down, there is only one direction it can go!"
> "Sideways?!" *




Dougal DeKree -

Another Deutschlander!  Viegeits!

Thanks so much for the kind words...when Quickbeam posted his dice disciplining guide on the old boards, the players had some good discussion about it!

The dice rituals practiced by the players due to the influences of the *Table of Elemental Evil* include:

 Never letting a die actually touch the table...it must be rolled on a book or some other surface
 Changing dice every hour of play to limit the evil influence
 Retiring any die the DM has touched
 Touching the die to a good luck token prior to rolling

All-in-all it is quite humorous!

Thanks for dropping by and I hope to see you again soon!

Old One


----------



## Old One

Tortoise said:
			
		

> *And now for a little poetry break ...
> 
> 
> 
> The money comes
> The money goes
> Who will steal it?
> The DM knows!
> 
> Thank you, thank you
> 
> Talk about rapidly changing fortunes. Here Rowan was about to retire wealthy enough to take good care of Q's sister Maxima when the winds of fortune shifted and ...
> 
> Well, let's just say he's determined to get a little "payback".
> 
> 
> I'll leave it at that and let Old One tickle your imaginations with the recent events. *




Alright Tortoise...keep that day job!

If all goes well, we will have a post later today...

Old One


----------



## el-remmen

I thouhgt I was WAY BEHIND - but it turned out I was only 1 session behind - so caught up quick.

Great stuff as usual. . . 

The number of page views you get is INSANE.  I guess the new page views feature is going to show which story hours really are the most popular. 

Ranger Wickett has a lot of reading ahead of him.  Have you thought about posting a downloadable version in word for people to print out and read at their own leisure?

I would be happy to host it if you decide to do it.


----------



## Old One

Greetings All!

I am officially 2 sessions behind now...

*Session 12* and *Session 13*

I hope to have at least the first part of *Session 12* done today.  In these two sessions, the PCs finally reach Oar and waste no time making lots of new friends and new enemies!

Stay tuned for more!

Old One


----------



## Old One

nemmerle said:
			
		

> *I thouhgt I was WAY BEHIND - but it turned out I was only 1 session behind - so caught up quick.
> 
> Great stuff as usual. . .
> 
> The number of page views you get is INSANE.  I guess the new page views feature is going to show which story hours really are the most popular.
> 
> Ranger Wickett has a lot of reading ahead of him.  Have you thought about posting a downloadable version in word for people to print out and read at their own leisure?
> 
> I would be happy to host it if you decide to do it. *




Nemm -

Thanks for stopping in!  The new "page view" feature is pretty cool, although my numbers pale in comparison to *Dr. Midnight's* and *Wulf's*!

I think that we have an out-of-date compilation on the website and I have a shiny new compilation in Word on my PC...I will check with O'berton and see if he wants to post it up, but thanks for the offer!

I've popped in on yours a couple of times but haven't commented yet.  See you there or in the RBDM lounge soonest!

Old One


----------



## Broccli_Head

Hey, Old One! Finally caught up! I thought I was super-far behind, but I guess I had only missed *Session 11*.

I was wondering if any of your players come back to you about things they missed that you write about on the story hour.?For example...when _"Tomas “The Bull” Nacalius fingered the hilt of his spatha"_ (Session 11, part one).  Does the player knowledge become character knowledge and do they have a tendency to act upon it?

Thanks for the tactics options. I realize how many times I forget to use sound tactics for mooks in my games. The head guy is always prepared, but the lackeys tend to be push overs. Some of those options and ideas you put forth can definitely make the encounters more challenging and hence more memorable.


----------



## Lela

*Austounding, Amazing, Gotta love that Harry Potter, Urrrr.  Old One, ya: Old One*

So, the hairbrush is magical.  Hmmmm.  I missed that my first pass through.  Any chance we can find out the properties of that brush?  I've given a player a magical shirt that doesn't ever need to be cleaned and changes color match any outfit but never a hairbrush.  [He asked for it to change to fit his clothing.  Almost useless otherwise]

Also, did I notice our mute bombshell giving the amazing bard a little look there?  Go Sextus!


----------



## Tortoise

Old One said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Alright Tortoise...keep that day job!
> 
> If all goes well, we will have a post later today...
> 
> Old One *




I'll have you know that -I- am a published poet! (harrumphs and turns nose to the air)

 

That's right, I was published in a collection known as "Just Say No to Barney"


----------



## Lela

*Tortise's Barney Poem*



			
				Tortoise said:
			
		

> *
> 
> I'll have you know that -I- am a published poet! (harrumphs and turns nose to the air)
> 
> 
> 
> That's right, I was published in a collection known as "Just Say No to Barney"
> 
> *




Let's hear it.

*Looks at Tortise expectantly while tapping foot*


----------



## Darklone

*FLEE!*

I have to admit it's my fault that gnome (Dougal DuKree) is over here... He's haunting my group. Well not exactly. He's a crazy gnome. Illusionist. And the worst: he has to save the group. Everytime.  

No idea why, I am soooo nice as DM! And my players roll as hell. (Not as good as me but good enough!)

May the sun always shine on the dagger in your back!

Darklone


----------



## Old One

*Session 12 (Part One)*

When we last left our intrepid band, they had finally reached the outskirts of civilization in the form of the *Two-Headed Stag and Wayhouse*.  After an entertaining "Bard's Duel", the party prepares to continue their journey to Oar.

*The Big City*

Brigit joined them the next morning over a bountiful breakfast of eggs, toast and bacon, chatting amiably about the contest the night before and road ahead to Oar.  She was as gracious in victory as Sextus was in defeat and the two got along famously.  The _saar_ indicated that they had a 2-day journey ahead or one-and-a-half if they pushed hard.  She told them that the road was patrolled by troops of the ruling Merchant’s Council and was considered fairly safe.

She did, however, warn them about the political situation in Oar.  “The biannual election for the Council approaches and the political infighting this year is particularly nasty!  The ‘greens’ and the ‘reds’ brawl in the streets daily whilst the ‘stunties’ keep a low profile and work behind the scenes.  Old man Sestius is trying to pack the Council with his cronies, but the stunties will give him a tough fight this time around!”

The party’s collective ears perked up at the mention of the _Sestius_ name and Quintus noted that Drusilla fought hard to control her emotions.  Further discussion with Brigit yielded the following information:

The Merchant’s Council was the ruling body of Oar.  It was “elected” every other year from among the leading merchant families and concerns in town.  Political factions in town included the “Greens” (led by Antoinine Sestius), the “Reds” (led by a loose coalition of other human merchants) and the “Stunties” or halflings (representing the various halfling merchant houses).  The run up to the election consisted primarily of vote-buying, intimidation, poisonings, stabbings, shifting alliances and street brawls between the various factions.
The halflings were able to stay above the fray, largely because of their immense economic power.  Outright attacks on the halfling candidates or merchant houses would result in a boycott and economic ruin for the offender.  This left the “Greens” and the “Reds” to battle it out for second place, which both factions did with relish!
The election was about 2 months distant and both human factions were re-doubling their efforts in a final push to “get out the vote” (or kill the other factions voters).
Brigit named the current council members, although she warned that one or more might have been permanently withdrawn from the race due to death.  They included:

Nolius Bramthin (Halfling Faction)
Firthin Battenhorn (Halfling Faction)
Antoinine Sestius (Green Faction)
Koldric d’Beck (Red Faction)
Matron Leonir (Unaligned, but thought to be stepping down)
Council aspirants included:

Vandorus Skibbereen (Halfling Faction)
Octavius Rook (Red Faction)
Del Vandross (No known affiliation although rumors circulate that he is a “Green”)
Tavorius Creed (Green Faction)
Thanking Brigit for her timely information, Quintus inquired after her _saar_ troupe.  She indicated that they had traveled northeast to the Monrovian Highlands about a year ago, but she decided to stay at the *Two-Headed Stag*.  The party finished their breakfast, packed up their gear, made their farewells and departed down the Oar Road under a warm summer downpour!

Within the hour, they were soaked through and through, but the rain didn’t carry the “bite” of the weather around Glynden.  Just past midday, several in the party caught the ringing of metal on metal and muffled curses.  Hefting their weapons and closing ranks, they moved forward cautiously.

Around a slight bend in the road, they found a young farmer with a heavily laden produce wagon drawn by two dilapidated horses.  The left rear wheel of the wagon was bent and the young man was trying, unsuccessfully, to fix it.  The party approached quietly, alert for signs of an ambush.  They closed to within several paces of the oblivious farmer before speaking.

“Do you need some help?” Lew called out.

“Gahhhh!” The farmer dropped his hammer, stumbled to the front of his cart and pulled out a gnarled cudgel before spinning about.  Seeing the number in the party, he dropped the club and stammered, “Please don’t hurt me, take the team and the goods but leave me with my life!”

Quintus, suppressing a grin, waved him into silence.  “We don’t want to hurt you…we asked if you needed any help.”

The farmer, still clearly frightened, stood stock still as they approached.

“The wainwright said the rim would hold, but it bent again ‘n I can’t seem to get it straight.”

Quintus looked at the wagon wheel.  He had no experience with wagon wheels, but he had straightened a mining cart wheel or two in his day.  “Mind if I try?”

The farmer nodded is ascent and two deft whacks later, the wheel rim was as good as new!

_(DM’s Note: Quintus rolled a natural “20”!)_

The farmer, who introduced himself as Kordas, fell all over himself thanking the party.  “I can’t really pay you, but you can help yerself to a bushel of turnips if ya want.”

“Are you traveling to Oar?” Quintus inquired.  Kordas nodded and the sorcerer continued, “Then perhaps we can travel with you and the lady can ride in the wagon with you.”

A slow grin crept onto Kordas’ face as he noticed Drusilla for the first time.  “Absolutely, Cap’n, whatever you say!”

Kordas caught Quintus’ scowl as he held his gaze on Drusilla a bit too long.  The farmer quickly ducked his head, coughed and suggested they get moving.

The rain trailed off before nightfall and the party could see, with increasing frequency, small crofts and stone-lined fields planted with summer wheat, turnips, carrots, cabbages, corn and hay.  Kordas proved to be quite talkative…unfortunately, most of his knowledge centered on farming, the weather and his aching back.  Rowan guessed the farmer to be no more than 20 winters, yet he was already bowed by his labors.  It was soon clear that Kordas was a simple man with simple dreams, content with his uncomplicated life.

As they set-up camp in a small grove of trees, Lew asked Kordas if he could look at his back.  Initially reluctant, Kordas quickly relented and Lew examined the farmer’s lower back.  The priest quickly determined that the man’s spine was slightly out of alignment.

“Hold still, now, this may hurt a bit!”

Lew mouthed a silent prayer to Osirian and popped Kordas’ back into alignment.  A resounding “crack”, like that of a rotten branch being stepped on, echoed across the encampment.  Kordas let out a high-pitched scream of pain and then fell silent.  For a moment, Lew thought he had killed the man, then the farmer let out a “whoop” of joy!

“Bless me!  It is a miracle!  You are a miracle worker!  My pain is gone!”

_DM’s Note: Another natural “20”!)_

Kordas jumped around the campfire for a moment, dancing an off-beat jig, then grasped Lew by his hands.  “You have healed me and worked a miracle!  First your companion fixes my wagon and then you fix me!  Osirian be praised!”

Profoundly embarrassed by the young man’s display of emotion, Lew disengaged and replied, “ I am able to do that which Osirian provides.”

Lew did take the opportunity to discuss the mercy and goodness of Osirian with Kordas, who proudly admitted going to the Cathedral every chance he got.  When Lew pressed for how often he attended services, Kordas beamed, “I go at least twice a year!  But now I will go even more often…praise be to Osirian and his miracle worker Lew for taking my pain away!”

The rest of the party exchanged smiles over Lew’s new “hero” status and over his general discomfiture with being in the limelight.

The weather cleared during the night and the remainder of the trip to Oar was fairly uneventful, although Kordas continued to sing the praises of “Lew the Miracle Worker”! They encountered increased traffic on the road in the form of farmer and merchant wagons, pedestrians and a Merchant Council cavalry patrol.  The patrol consisted of a dozen men, accoutered in _lorica hamatas_ and armed with spathas and lances, atop big horses.  The traffic cleared off the road as they approached – Kordas and the party followed suit.

As the patrol thundered past, one of the cavalrymen yanked his mount out of the column a stone’s throw past the party.  He glanced at each one in turn, his eyes lingering on Rosë’s hulking form and Drusilla before he spun his mount and spurred ahead to catch up with his fellows.

Kordas informed them that the Council imposed a “gate tax” of one denarii for each person or animal that entered the city, plus additional tariffs for trade goods.  Rowan inquired as to how much Kordas would be required to pay.

“Five denarii.”

The ranger nodded and quietly slipped the farmer the coin.  Kordas shook his head in amazement at the generosity of the group.  “True miracle workers,” he mumbled to himself, a wide grin across his simple face.

Quintus had inquired after suitable inns to stay in.  Kordas only knew of two – _The Boarding Pike_, located along the wharf in the _Dock Quarter_ and the _Bright Lady_, a newer inn run by “stunties” that was located just outside the city gate.

“I would stay away from the _Pike_ unless you like bad ale and good brawls,” Kordas warned.  “Them sailors have nasty tempers!”

As he was speaking, they turned a corner and the walls and gate of Oar hove into view.  Sextus whistled through his teeth, visibly impressed.  The whitewashed walls of Oar were half-again as high as the massive fortifications that enclosed Glynden, with the battlement soaring 30 paces above the ground.  The towers added another five paces atop that.  Blue flags with 5 white stars flapped lazily in the afternoon breeze and a queue of wagons and travelers awaited entrance into the city.  A large wooded hill, topped by an impressive looking fortress and ringed by large villas, rose inside the city to the left of the gate.  Enormous steeples and bell towers of what could only be the Cathedral of Oar commanded the center of the city.

Rosë stopped for a moment and gawked.  He had been impressed with Glynden and was amazed by Oar.  “Never did I know men could build such things!”

A gaily-painted three-story inn, with numerous outbuildings, lay to the south of the road just before the gate.  A huge sign announced _The Bright Lady Inn_.  After a brief discussion, they bade Kordas farewell and wished him luck at the market.

“Goodbye, miracle workers!” He called over his shoulder.  "I promise to visit the Cathedral every chance I get, Brother Lew!"

Quintus entered the _Bright Lady_ while the others waited outside.  The staff seemed to be all halflings and several well-dressed patrons were enjoying delicious smelling meals.  A sandy-haired halfling called out from behind the bar, “Greetings sir, I am Ronjeur!  How may I help you today?”

Quintus inquired after room and board, barely managing to keep a straight face as the diminutive proprietor rattled off the room tariffs.  Quintus nodded his thanks, “Let me speak with my companions.”

Sputtering angrily about “gouging stunties”, Quintus rejoined the group.  “Lew, do you think the Cathedral might give us shelter?  The prices here are outrageous!”

Lew (who had earlier suggested they seek lodging at the Cathedral) sighed and nodded is head with a “see, I told you so” look on his face.  The others nodded in agreement and they joined the line waiting to enter the city.  It was nearing nightfall when they reached the shadow of the massive gatehouse.  Closer inspection of the impressive walls showed numerous cracks and other signs of neglect.  Several bored looking guards in studded leather and armed with long spears and gladius’ watched as a pinched-faced tax collector and scribe accosted each entrant.

“Name and goods to declare,” the pinched-faced man whined in a nasally, yet officious, voice.  The young scribe beside him waited patiently, quill pressed to parchment.

Lew stepped forward and brandished his holy symbol.  “I am Brother Gandlewyn of Glynden and I have business at the Cathedral.”

“Very well…one denarius and pass through.” The tax collector’s boredom was readily apparent.  “Next.”

Quintus stepped forward and gave false names for the rest of the party.  Lew gritted his teeth at each falsehood and he met Quintus’ eyes over the shoulder of the tax collector, holding them for a long moment with obvious displeasure.  The names were duly noted and, after a perfunctory search of Josephus the Mule, a tax of one denarius each was leveled and the rest of the party was waved through.  Rowan noted the murder holes in the roof of the passage under the gatehouse. 

_(DM's Note: Lew (who is LG) gets very put out by some of Quintus' schemes.  I will post Lew's log a little later that details his feelings in greater detail!)_ 

As they entered the city, their senses were assaulted by a myriad of unfamiliar smells, sights and sounds.  The sharp “tang” of sea air hung over the city, mixed with the smell of woodsmoke, rotten fish and slops.  To their combined amazement, the streets were made of cobblestones and several men in leather smocks and large sacks were placing wooden ladders against 5-pace high wooden poles that lined the main street at regular 20-pace intervals.  As they watched, the men climbed up the ladders and pulled leather coverings off wooden globes set atop each pole.

The soft glow of _Continual Flame_ spells soon illuminated the main avenue that wound through the city towards the Cathedral.  Close-packed buildings of stone, most three or four stories height, lined the main road and numerous alleys and side streets forked off from the avenue at irregular intervals.  As the party slowly made their way through town, a slight figure leaned from one of the alleyways, regarding the group intently from behind for several long moments before darting away, chuckling quietly!

*To Be Continued…*

*Next:  Session 12 (Part Two) – The Cathedral of Oar*


----------



## Rel

I'll be carefully watching to see what I can steal from this section of the campaign, Old One (why stop now, right ).  Although, my group shows no signs of going anywhere near Oar anytime soon.

Just curious, why the leather covers over the _Continual Flame_ lamps during the day?  Seems more efficient just to let them burn in the open.

Keep the posts a-comin'.


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## Old One

*Unions!*



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> *I'll be carefully watching to see what I can steal from this section of the campaign, Old One (why stop now, right ).  Although, my group shows no signs of going anywhere near Oar anytime soon.
> 
> Just curious, why the leather covers over the Continual Flame lamps during the day?  Seems more efficient just to let them burn in the open.
> 
> Keep the posts a-comin'. *




'Cause of the Unions, of course!

The remnants of the Imperial Service Bureau: Lamplighters and Streetsweepers Local 179 has a perpetual contract with the city from the days when they were non-magical street lamps that needed to be lit every night.  Rather than suffer the sanctions and bad publicity brought about by a strike, the former Imperial governer extend the contract indefinitely when the city switched to magical lighting in ER 2544!

Old One


----------



## Darklone

*Lamps *

Del Vandross??????

Well the lamps... Hilarious ) But for Del Vandross... I have to check ... uh oh ...


----------



## Rel

*Re: Unions!*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *
> 
> 'Cause of the Unions, of course!
> 
> The remnants of the Imperial Service Bureau: Lamplighters and Streetsweepers Local 179 has a perpetual contract with the city from the days when they were non-magical street lamps that needed to be lit every night.  Rather than suffer the sanctions and bad publicity brought about by a strike, the former Imperial governer extend the contract indefinitely when the city switched to magical lighting in ER 2544!
> 
> Old One *




No undue flattery intended, but that may be the single most brilliant explanation I've ever seen.

I bow before your mastery, Old One.


----------



## ShawnLStroud

*Unions*

quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally posted by Old One 


'Cause of the Unions, of course! 

The remnants of the Imperial Service Bureau: Lamplighters and Streetsweepers Local 179 ...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Oh. My. God.  I couldn't stop laughing!  That's one of the best (most lifelike) and funniest answers I've ever heard!  Old One, I've glanced briefly at your site, but now I *have*  to go back and strip mine it for goodies!

Rel, I've gotta tell you -- your story and events therein are just getting better each time.


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## Rel

[hijack-blatant self promotion]

Thanks for the compliment, Shawn.  But the next installment promises to be the most shocking yet.  I'll try to post it before the weekend.

[/hijack-blatant self promotion]

We now return you to Old One's regularly scheduled awesome thread.


----------



## Old One

*Thanks!*

Darklone, Rel, and SLS -

Thanks guys!  

It is just one of those little things that I try to put in to make the world more believable.  If you think that's funny, just wait until we get to Emor!

Thanks for the readership.

Old One

PS - Rel, I completely agree with SLS, you have done great and wonderful things with your storyhour!


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## Rel

Wait, wait, wait, wait a minute!

Am I to understand that the whole "Union of Lamplighters" thing is not just some witty, off the cuff remark in response to my question about the covered continual flames, but, in fact, a built in campaign feature?!

I've been told by some that I'm fairly quick on my feet and if one of my smart-assed players had asked me the same question, under the same circumstances, I might (stress might), on my best day, have come up with the "well, it's the unions of course" line.  But I would never, ever have been clever enough to include that in the campaign from the get-go.  If this is true then my comment above that you are the true master is not one word of hyperbole.

Seriously man, with a mind that clever, allowing you to leave the military constituted a real threat to our national security.


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## Old One

Rel said:
			
		

> *Wait, wait, wait, wait a minute!
> 
> Am I to understand that the whole "Union of Lamplighters" thing is not just some witty, off the cuff remark in response to my question about the covered continual flames, but, in fact, a built in campaign feature?!
> 
> I've been told by some that I'm fairly quick on my feet and if one of my smart-assed players had asked me the same question, under the same circumstances, I might (stress might), on my best day, have come up with the "well, it's the unions of course" line.  But I would never, ever have been clever enough to include that in the campaign from the get-go.  If this is true then my comment above that you are the true master is not one word of hyperbole.
> 
> Seriously man, with a mind that clever, allowing you to leave the military constituted a real threat to our national security. *




Rel -

Actually, it is a little of both!  

The Imperial Service Bureau, which I won't go into too much detail with here, is kind of like a U.S. Government Agency + Imperial Chinese Bureuacracy on Steriods...officious, everything in triplicate, lots of layers of useless management, etc!  I designed the parameters of that and made some notations on how it would work and how the PCs might interact with it from the beginning design stage.

I must admit that the witty rejoinder about the "Lamplighters and Street Sweepers Local 179" was a little "off the cuff", but it fits _very_ well within the world!  I wish I could take credit for creating the concept, but all I had to do was look at our own terribly inefficient government - pushing stacks of paper from one person to another, with no one accountable for anything!

Old One


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## Lela

*I feel that I must put something here.  So, I did.*

Ya, umm.  Consider this is stolen by_ one more_ person now.  

I'm designing a wealthy city that seems to produce many heros.  Recently I've decided to add some politcal intriege; something the players will have to deal with but can't change.  Looks like I (you) have another idea.  Don't worry, I plan to give you credit for it all:

_
Player laughing stops slowly, "Wow!  When did you come up with that?!?"

Me, laughing slightly: "I didn't!  I stole it."

Curious Players (in unison): "Who did you get *that* from?!?"

Me: "Some Old guy."_


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## Darklone

*Re: I feel that I must put something here.  So, I did.*



			
				Lela said:
			
		

> *Ya, umm.  Consider this is stolen by one more person now.
> 
> 
> Player laughing stops slowly, "Wow!  When did you come up with that?!?"
> 
> Me, laughing slightly: "I didn't!  I stole it."
> 
> Curious Players (in unison): "Who did you get that from?!?"
> 
> Me: "Some Old guy." *




Hey guys, I gotta stop reading this at work  My boss looks soo interested... 

 

Hey Old One, did it occur to you that players sometimes roll too many natural 20s? Dougal had 12 at one evening... Must check Quickbeams dice rules again... 

As for paperstacks being pushed around ... Friend of mine had two unseen servants fight for hours in a library of a temple cause two paperslaves sent the papers back to each other all the time,...


----------



## Rel

Old One said:
			
		

> *I must admit that the witty rejoinder about the "Lamplighters and Street Sweepers Local 179" was a little "off the cuff", but it fits very well within the world!
> 
> Old One *




Well then, it's good to know that you still reside within the realm of mortal men.  You were starting to look on the fast track to demi-god at least.

I must also mention that any fantasy world government that runs as inefficiently as our own wouldn't make it into my campaigns.  It just strains my suspension of disbelief too much  .

Looking forward to more!


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## WSmith

I have finally caught up. To my glee, I was only missing 11 and 12. So with further adeau, let the blatant @$$ kissing begin!

The summary: Thank you soo much for the summary in the first post. It helped refresh my memory as to what events were occuring. A really good thing for the old fans, with old memories.  

The Tactics Guide: I never really gave much thought about this stuff. D&D was usually, "in come the orcs, melee folks move up and go toe-to-toe, missile men move back and let 'em fly, and for all that is good, get that unarmored spellcaster to the back and have him start casting some kind of support for us." After this typical settup, the DM nasties never seem to retreat, use very few, if any tactics, some of those cited which I learned in the military myself. Because of your viewpoints, I have to say that when I start reading about approaching gnolls, I get apprehensive and excited, thinking "were are they coming from next." I like the concept of tactical retreats ambushes. Consider that idea stolen, for good. 

The Bard Battle: I could actually feel like I was in the tavern myself. Excellent work to both Brigit and Sextus. In a meta game terms, how do you run the playing of this. Did you have Corey, (you're Sextus not Qunitus right? I get all the players confussed at times) say, "I am telling the tale of..." and then roll, or did he actually tell some of the tale and then roll? Just curious how this played out. 

The Union Issues: When I was reading it I thought the same thing, why the leather covers?   I really got a chuckle out of the explanation cause I work for the federal government, and  know that this stuff indeed does occur. To put it into the Oar government adds to the level of verisimilitue (sp.) 

You and your group sound like a bunch of guys I would enjoy being around.  Someday when I am passing through MD, I will stop in and meet the crew.


----------



## Old One

*Session 12 (Part Two)*

*The Cathedral of Oar*

The main avenue snaked through the tall buildings for half-a-bowshot before emptying into a large plaza.  A three-tiered fountain rose in the center of the plaza, adorned at each point of the compass by larger than life statues of regal looking men clad in antique armor.  Directly across the plaza soared the façade of the Cathedral.  

Sextus estimated that the main face of the building was ten times the height of Rosë, with flanking bell towers rising higher still.  The central nave rose to the same height as the bell towers and the entire façade was festooned with carvings and statuary.  Four shallow steps led to the main entrance, an enormous set of double doors.  A low wall, perhaps 5 paces high, connected the main part of the Cathedral to the adjacent city walls.  It was pierced in two locations by small postern gates.  Beyond the wall, the group noted the roofs of several other buildings and a multitude of treetops.

A wide variety of shops lined the plaza, although most were shuttered or in the process of closing.  A small crowd, mostly comprised of children, was gathered around a colorful stripped awning to their right.  The evening sea breeze wafted an enticing smell towards them from the shop.  Following a brief discussion, Lew and Quintus headed for the Cathedral to seek entrance while the others spread out and inspected the various shop fronts.  Rosë’s growling stomach led him to source of the smell and he was soon munching on an huge puffed pastry covered in a sweet white substance.  He grinned foolishly at the children around him and smacked his lips in delight.

Lew’s ringing of the door chime brought a fresh-faced young aspirant, a lad of 16 winters with a shock of unruly curly blond hair.  He presented his holy symbol and requested sanctuary for him and his companions.  He also mentioned that he had business with the Bishop.  The lad invited them in, then asked him to wait for a few moments.  While Quintus waited in the Foyer, Lew slipped into the main worship hall to give thanks to _Osirian_ for their safe arrival.  The sheer immensity of the place almost overwhelmed him.  The entire abbey of Glynden could easily have fit in the alter area of the Cathedral.  Stone and woodcarvings, rich tapestries and gilt decorations bespoke a richness that the simple shrine of Father Thomas could never hope to approach.  Overawed, Lew mumbled a quick prayer of thanks and returned to Quintus, wonder reflected in his honest face.  

The aspirant, Viato by name, returned shortly thereafter and indicated that the Abbot had granted them sanctuary in name of the Bishop.  Lew inquired about the Bishop and Viato indicated that Bishop Attelus had been ill for sometime and the senior clergyman present, Brother Patroclian, had temporarily assumed the mantle of Abbot and was acting in the Bishop’s stead.

The news struck Lew like a hammer-blow!  Brother Patroclian was priest that his brother, Marcus, had traveled south with several moons previously and he had overheard Father Thomas exchange heated words with Patroclian shortly before he departed Glynden.  He absentmindedly chewed on his lip in concern as Viato directed them to enter through the western postern gate and he would see to their needs.  He also told them that the Abbot had requested their presence at dinner following the 8th bell.

The party was soon comfortably settled in a small, 2-story stone guesthouse toward the back of the Cathedral grounds.  The grounds themselves were almost park-like, well kept and inhabited by numerous well-fed squirrels that chattered noisily as the party passed.  Viato saw to Pratto the mule, while the party settled in.

The first floor of the guesthouse contained a small sitting room and bathing facility.  Viato had lit the hypocaust before departing and informed the party that the water would be suitable for bathing in 30 turns of the minute glass.  The upper floor had eight small, simply appointed rooms, which were plain but comfortable.  The party rested, bathed and cleaned up for about an hour before Viato returned and fetched them for dinner.  He led them to a larger 3-story stone building they had passed on their way in – the 2nd Rectory.

He led them past the kitchens and common room on the first floor via a wide circular stone staircase.  As they passed the second floor, they saw a score of aspirants, lay brothers and acolytes eating in a large communal dining hall.  Reaching the third floor, they were ushered into a private dining room, complete with ornate table and well-appointed sitting area.  A large olive-skinned man with curly, shoulder-length black hair, oiled beard and piercing dark eyes, dressed in silken blue robes, rose from a divan to welcome them.

“Greetings and welcome to the House of the Lightbringer. I am Abbot Patroclian, please make yourselves comfortable while we wait for the others.  It is good to see you again, Brother Lew, will you introduce me to your friends?”

Lew made the introductions and Abbot greeted each one warmly while looking deeply into each person’s eyes.  Lew then produced the letter of introduction from Father Thomas and handed it to the Abbot.  Brother Patroclian quickly read the missive and indicated that the resources of the Cathedral library where open to Lew and his friends.  

The Abbot made idle conversation, asking about their journey from while several others entered the room.  Introductions were continued and the party soon met:

*Mercator Zoe* – The sole supplicant to Myriel.  A homely woman of perhaps 40 winters, she wore her years heavily.
*Ensign-Brother Elias* – He tended the shrine to Gabriel in the absence of Captain-Brother Vandarius.  Captain-Brother Vandarius’ vessel was 2 moons overdue and thought to be lost at sea.
*Sergeant-Brother Fortian* – The younger brother of Petrosian of Tyrial.  He was also a Church Knight and commanded the Cathedral Guard in his brother’s absence.
After 10 turns of the minute glass, Abbot Patroclian suggested they take their seats.  “Reverend-Father Jarvis, our Master of Ceremonies and Chief Librarian, should be along any moment.  He is not as spry as he once was and may be a few moments yet.”

As if on cue, the door opened and a stooped man with long white hair shuffled in.  Ill-fitting robes hung from his frail frame and he leaned heavily on the arm of a short, chubby aspirant with short brown hair and pockmarked cheeks.  The room was quiet as Reverend-Father Jarvis took his seat.  “Thank you, Stephen.” the old man whispered, “I shall send for you when the meal is over.”

Dinner, served by several young aspirants, was quite good.  Numerous courses, including many dishes that the party was unfamiliar with, were accompanied by several bottles of wine – ranging from a dry red to a very sweet white.  Sea bass, oysters, spicy rice and pomegranates all graced the party’s pallets and several - Rosë and Sextus in particular - downed copious quantities of wine.  The dinner conversation revolved primarily around the happenings about Glynden and the *Cult of Ashai*.  Reverend-Father Jarvis echoed Abbot Patroclian’s pledge to make the library available to the party.

Lew learned that his brother Marcus had traveled to the Jewel Cities to request assistance for the Bishop, who was plagued by a malady that won’t respond the miracles of _Osirian_.  The Bishop was sequestered in a special infirmary in the 1st Rectory adjacent to the Abbot’s quarters.  They conversed late into the night and everyone but Quintus was heavy-headed from wine when they finally returned to their guesthouse.

A frantic knock awoke Lew far too early the following morning.  “Brother Lew, Brother Lew!  Come quickly, there is trouble in the Cathedral!”

He opened his door to find a wild-eyed Viato standing before him.

Lew’s first thought sprang from his mouth.  “What has Rosë done now?”

Viato stammered, “It’s not Rosë…there is a large group of people gathered in the Foyer demanding to see you.  You better come quick!”

Sighing heavily and somewhat perplexed, Lew pulled his clothes on, grabbed his belt and staff and followed Viato, who sprinted ahead to the Cathedral.  Alarmed, Lew hustled forward and quickly made his way to the Foyer.

He slowed his pace as he noticed a large group of people, perhaps a score, milling about.  They were largely unwashed and dressed in dirty, tattered clothes.  Many were missing limbs or were terribly deformed with all manner of unseemly defects.  Faces, filled with desperate hope, turned toward Lew as he approached.

“What are you people doing here?” he inquired.

A jumble of responses burst forth, but one oft-repeated chorus was clear.  “We seek the Miracle Worker!  We seek Brother Lew of Osirian whose touch can heal the afflicted!  Are you Brother Lew?”

The young priest was stunned for a moment.  ‘Miracle worker,’ he thought to himself, ‘what in the name of Osirian were they talking about?’

Then it came to him!  Kordas, the young man whose back he had straightened, must have spread the word of the “miracle”!

Mind whirling, Lew stood indecisively, trying to figure out what to do.

The crowd edged toward him with plaintive cries of “Help us” and “Heal us” and “Where is the Miracle Worker?”

Lew spread his arms wide, “Brother Lew is busy serving the Light in important ways…”

He trailed off as the crowd closed in even more.  One crippled man fell forward and grasped Lew about the knees.  The man’s legs were thin and twisted, like gnarled tree limbs, but his arms were strong.  “Help me!” he croaked.

Panicking, Lew called upon an _orision_ to bathe the area in blue-white light.  Drawing himself up to his full height and using his most authoritative voice, he boomed, “Brother Lew serves the Light. He has important work. If it is healing ye seek, go north. There you will find Brother Lew... Seek out the light...travel to Fort Scipio...”

The crowd drew back for a moment, although the crippled man continued to hold Lew tightly about the knees wailing for help.  A woman whose face looked like it was being eaten away by disease looked past Lew towards Viato, who was standing, white-faced and quaking, several paces behind Lew.

“Is he not Brother Lew?” she beseeched with a nasally whine.

Lew turned awkwardly to look at Viato.  The young aspirant, eyes as big as saucers, looked from Lew to the crowd and back again.

“Y-y-e-e-e-s-s-s he is,” stammered Viato, before casting a hopeless glance at Lew, turning and fleeing the room.

“SAVE US!” echoed from the walls of the Foyer as the crowd surged forward all about Lew.  They grasped his clothing, tugging and wailing in a growing frenzy.  Lew tried to twist away, but more and more hands pulled at him, wrenching him to and fro.  Suddenly, the crush of the crowd knocked him from his feet and Lew screamed as he disappeared beneath the mass of struggling bodies!

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Session 12 (Part Three): Martyr or Madman?*

Old One


----------



## Broccli_Head

That's weird! Is Lew even powerful enough to cure disease?

I fear that he will be torn limb from limb.  What are the rest of the companions to do?


----------



## Old One

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *That's weird! Is Lew even powerful enough to cure disease?
> 
> I fear that he will be torn limb from limb.  What are the rest of the companions to do? *




Broc -

Thanks for stopping in!  Actually, the farmer (Kordas) just had a wrenched back, which Lew fixed with a natural "20" on his healing roll (I think he has 8 or 9 ranks in heal).  I guess the downtrodden in the city where really impressed when they heard about the "miracle"!

As they say, "No good deed goes unpunished"!

Old One

PS - The rest of the crew is hanging out back at the guesthouse


----------



## Broccli_Head

Old One said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Broc -
> 
> Thanks for stopping in!  Actually, the farmer (Kordas) just had a wrenched back, which Lew fixed with a natural "20" on his healing roll (I think he has 8 or 9 ranks in heal).  I guess the downtrodden in the city where really impressed when they heard about the "miracle"!
> 
> As they say, "No good deed goes unpunished"!
> 
> Old One
> 
> PS - The rest of the crew is hanging out back at the guesthouse *




I remember that encounter and figured as much after you described what had happened.  Truly you are  a RBDM for punishing that good deed. How do I join the club ? I realize IMC that I pull too many punches (at least that's what people comment), but I can change!

I guess under a mob of people, no one can hear you scream!


----------



## Old One

*Thanks!  A$$ Kissing is Always Welcome!*



			
				WSmith said:
			
		

> *I have finally caught up. To my glee, I was only missing 11 and 12. So with further adeau, let the blatant @$$ kissing begin!
> 
> The summary: Thank you soo much for the summary in the first post. It helped refresh my memory as to what events were occuring. A really good thing for the old fans, with old memories.
> 
> The Tactics Guide: I never really gave much thought about this stuff. D&D was usually, "in come the orcs, melee folks move up and go toe-to-toe, missile men move back and let 'em fly, and for all that is good, get that unarmored spellcaster to the back and have him start casting some kind of support for us." After this typical settup, the DM nasties never seem to retreat, use very few, if any tactics, some of those cited which I learned in the military myself. Because of your viewpoints, I have to say that when I start reading about approaching gnolls, I get apprehensive and excited, thinking "were are they coming from next." I like the concept of tactical retreats ambushes. Consider that idea stolen, for good.
> 
> The Bard Battle: I could actually feel like I was in the tavern myself. Excellent work to both Brigit and Sextus. In a meta game terms, how do you run the playing of this. Did you have Corey, (you're Sextus not Qunitus right? I get all the players confussed at times) say, "I am telling the tale of..." and then roll, or did he actually tell some of the tale and then roll? Just curious how this played out.
> 
> The Union Issues: When I was reading it I thought the same thing, why the leather covers?   I really got a chuckle out of the explanation cause I work for the federal government, and  know that this stuff indeed does occur. To put it into the Oar government adds to the level of verisimilitue (sp.)
> 
> You and your group sound like a bunch of guys I would enjoy being around.  Someday when I am passing through MD, I will stop in and meet the crew. *




WSmith -

Thanks for stopping by!  In reverse order...

(1) Just give me a head's up if you are traveling through.  I think I remember reading that you were moving back to the East Coast (S. Jersey?).  We play about every 3 weeks or so.

(2) I too have had far to much experience dealing with governments - from local to national and the stunning inefficiency never ceases to amaze me.  If I ran my business that way, I would be bankrupt within the week!  I just like putting those "homey" touches on things!

(3) Actually it is Steve who runs Sextus (unfortunately, he doesn't have a home computer and thus is rarely on the boards).  He is GREAT at staying in character, has a deep baritone voice and often spouts into spontaneous poetry.  I basically let him act it out a little, rolled for the crowd's reaction then modified his performance roll based on the crowd reaction.  He regularly wins our "Roleplayer of the Game" award - worth 2 Hero Points.

(4) Glad you liked the "Tactics Guide"...I pity the party that uses poor tactics with me DMing.  Give me relatively intelligent and well-trained peons and I will give even a mid-level party some trouble.  Give me some levelled NPCs with some magic items and look out!

Old One


----------



## Old One

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *
> 
> I remember that encounter and figured as much after you described what had happened.  Truly you are  a RBDM for punishing that good deed. How do I join the club ? I realize IMC that I pull too many punches (at least that's what people comment), but I can change!
> 
> I guess under a mob of people, no one can hear you scream! *




Broc -

Kris, Lew's player, did a great job of roleplaying his indecision.  I kept describing how the crowd was closing in - yet he stood his ground.  Then the crowd panicked and bum-rushed him...he had 2 chances to break free, but they were too much for him!

Back in the "Dark Ages" of my DMing days, I used to pull punches or fudge a fair amount.  No longer!  I love rolling in the open and letting the PCs sleep in the beds they make.  I think you have to have pretty mature players (or young players with great attitudes) for it to work - ie, munchkins and power gamers need not apply - but it is much more enjoyable for me!

Old One


----------



## Old One

*Re: I feel that I must put something here.  So, I did.*



			
				Lela said:
			
		

> *Ya, umm.  Consider this is stolen by one more person now.
> 
> I'm designing a wealthy city that seems to produce many heros.  Recently I've decided to add some politcal intriege; something the players will have to deal with but can't change.  Looks like I (you) have another idea.  Don't worry, I plan to give you credit for it all:
> 
> 
> Player laughing stops slowly, "Wow!  When did you come up with that?!?"
> 
> Me, laughing slightly: "I didn't!  I stole it."
> 
> Curious Players (in unison): "Who did you get that from?!?"
> 
> Me: "Some Old guy." *




Lela -

As namer of the *Table of Elemental Evil*, feel free to scarf that up!

Old One


----------



## Lela

*HE LIED!!!!*

THE LAWFUL GOOD CLERIC WHO HATES QUISTES'S SCHEEMS LIED!!!   

He lied.  Not only slightly.  He lied to desperate people who were mearly seeking ade.  He lied in a holy place; dedicated to his god and built serve _health_ and safty.  

What will the repricussions of this be.  He had a *HUGE* set of ethics built into his character and, while I don't remember the spicifics of Orison's code, I could easily see a big chastisement coming.  

Of course, being crushed under a pile of desperate mobbers would make the whole point mute--except for the afterlife thing.  

Also, if he survives, he will very likly end up feeling a small draft due to the distinct lack of clothing (the not-so-angry mob having taken their _holy_ souvenirs.

Aw, well, walk in the light Lew.  (couldn't resist the Wheel of Time reference)


----------



## Darklone

**Crawling back on my chair**

Oh my god (gods, devils, demons, whatever, this is D&D)

That's what I love about your story hour, Old One:
Torture, death, nothing would have Lew forced to lie. But you did !!!!


----------



## Old One

*Did He or Didn't He???*

Lela and Darklone -

We had an interesting discussion at the table as to whether Lew actually lied or not...

My first impression was that he did, but if you read the actually text of what he said...

*“Brother Lew is busy serving the Light in important ways…”*

-AND-

*“Brother Lew serves the Light. He has important work. If it is healing ye seek, go north. There you will find Brother Lew... Seek out the light...travel to Fort Scipio...”*

...it is more a "Sin of Omission" or "Sin of Misdirection" than an outright lie.  He (Brother Lew) is (a) Busy and (b) Serving the Light in important ways!  I thought it was pretty funny that he spoke of himself in the 3rd person.

The main thing I had a problem with was directing a band of cripples into the wilderness towards Fort Scipio, since no one but the party really knows what that is.  There is some type of presence trapped in the catacombs underneath the shrine...perhaps that is what he had in mind...but we may never know!

Update coming soon!

Old One


----------



## Lela

*Re: Did He or Didn't He???*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *Lela and Darklone -
> 
> We had an interesting discussion at the table as to whether Lew actually lied or not...
> 
> My first impression was that he did, but if you read the actually text of what he said...
> 
> “Brother Lew is busy serving the Light in important ways…”
> 
> -AND-
> 
> “Brother Lew serves the Light. He has important work. If it is healing ye seek, go north. There you will find Brother Lew... Seek out the light...travel to Fort Scipio...”
> 
> ...it is more a "Sin of Omission" or "Sin of Misdirection" than an outright lie.  He (Brother Lew) is (a) Busy and (b) Serving the Light in important ways!  I thought it was pretty funny that he spoke of himself in the 3rd person.
> 
> The main thing I had a problem with was directing a band of cripples into the wilderness towards Fort Scipio, since no one but the party really knows what that is.  There is some type of presence trapped in the catacombs underneath the shrine...perhaps that is what he had in mind...but we may never know!
> 
> Update coming soon!
> 
> Old One *




Technically, it might not have been a lie.  Unless, you count the fact that Lew was not at Fortress Scipo, Lew knew it, and Lew told them they would find him there; even though they won't.

Then again, that may be considered just implying that Lew is at the fortress, in which case it would agian be a lie/sin of ommision (depending on how Orison sees it).

But of course, that is more the Lawful *Neutral* argument.  Lew is Lawful *Good*.

I would settle on it being a strait out lie.  But that is just me.


----------



## Rel

Old One said:
			
		

> *As they say, "No good deed goes unpunished"! *




That is precisely the quote I was going to post!  Great work, Old One.


----------



## Old One

*Interlude - Lew's Journal*

Greetings All!

Since we have reached that point in the story, I thought I would post Lew's perspective on recent events...

*Lew's Journal*

_"Brother Lew, did you hear something?"

After a short pause, Lew replied to the younger Scipio.  "Hear what?  I can't hear anything over Josephus' clopping."

Sextus shouted up to Rowan. "What about you?  Did you hear that?"

A moment passed before the cautious ranger waved a slowing hand and disappeared off one side of the road.

Some Mid-Summers-Day this was.  Back in Glynden, the carnival would be well underway.  Most of the towns people were probably half drunk by now.  Every year the day gets a little more festive as people put their worries aside for a day.  But not this year. Not for Lew and his companions.

The party had ventured forth from the inn at an early hour, only to be greeted by the pelting rain.  They had been soaked through before the inn was out of sight.  As they waited silently for the scout to return, Lew noticed that the rain had begun to slow.

Rowan appeared around a bend in the road waving the party on.  Lew lead the stubborn mule forward once again.

Ahead, in the middle of the road, a young man was apparently having trouble with his wagon.  Rowan mad quick introductions as Quintus surveyed the damage to the wagon.  He admitted to having little proficiency at smithing, but judged it to be little different than the hammer he was used to wielding in the mines.  A few blows latter, the wheel was straightened and the wagon was as good as new.

The young man agreed to traveling together, and allowed Drusilla to ride in the back of his wagon.  The rest of the day passed slowly.  The weather remained miserable, although the rain stopped mid-afternoon.

Sextus strode along side the wagon, and sparked up some conversation.  The young man turned out to be quite the gossip, and proceeded to tell all manner of fanciful tales to the attentive bard.

Lew could not help but notice that the backwater boy was quite the simpleton.  He expressed wide-eyed, child-like amazement at even the simplest things.  His tales were over-exaggerated, full of unnecessary detail, and often very hard to believe.  Lew had decided it best to keep to himself, and let Sextus do all of the talking.  That is, until he got dragged in...

The young man's eyes lit up.  "You have one of those 'lighties' with you?  Where?  Which one of you is the lightie?"...

Lew's eyes rolled back into his head as he breathed a deep sigh.  He did not want to talk with this simple man...but, if he truely was interested in the Light...

Lew moved closer to the wagon.  "I am a brother of the Light."

"Really?  Can you heal people?  I have this pain in my back..."

The boy rambled on about his back pain, but Lew had already tuned him out.  'How do we always find them,' he thought to himself.  The boy had little faith, if any at all.  All he wanted was healing.

Lew sighed as he cut the young man off.  "I will look at it when we stop.  Do you follow the ways of the Light?"

The boy grinned eagerly, "Yes... go every chance I get...been to the Cathedral at least 2 or 3 times..."

Lew did not know what to say.  The boy was actually proud of himself for going to the cathedral a handfull of times in his life.  To him, that was reverence.

"Very well, I will look at your back when we stop."  The boy did not grasp the hidden message that the converstation was over, so Lew ended up repeating this line several times.  Finally, Sextus spoke up and changed the subject, saving Lew.

That evening, Lew examined the young man.  His lower back was severely out of alignment, which Lew was able to deftly re-adjust.  The boy screamed in pain for a moment, then began dancing for joy.  He declared the Lew was a 'miracle worker' for fixing his back, and that Quintus was too for fixing the wagon.

Lew shook his head, but held his tongue.  He figured that there was no point arguing with the simple man who was prone to exaggeration.  The topic fell, and the night passed on uneventfully.

The next day passed much the same, although the weather had lightened a bit.  Before long, the road had begun to dry up, and the wagon moved a little quicker to their destination.  Little of note happened.  Sextus and the young man continued to chat, now mumbling about the politics of Oar.  At one point, several soldiers passed on rather strong-looking horses, but they
said nothing, and were gone over horizon in a few short minutes.

The party reached the city of Oar just before the evening meal.  The city was more than any of them had ever imagined.  The walls alone towered above anything they had seen before.  The towers of the cathedral rose to imposible heights.  And beyond...the vastness of the sea...larger than anything Lew could imagine...the entire party stopped to gape in awe at the amazing sight.

After they had wrapped their wits about them once again, Quintus proceeded toward an inn that came highly recommended.  Lew decided it best to stay outside with Josephus (the mule and wait for the rest of the party.  Before long they returned with incredulous looks on their faces.  It appears that the inn was a little to expensive for their small purses.  Dejected, and seing that there was little other choice, Lew suggested that they seek lodging at the Cathedral.

As they approached the city gate, Lew overheard a guard asking those that entered for their names.  Quintus immediately began plotting, trying to assign each of the party members a fake name and story.  Lew gave the young man a disaproving scowl, then stepped forward.

"I am Gandlewyn - Brother of the Light - I have business at the Cathedral."

Quintus frowned, but Lew could care less.

"And who are these?" The guard asked with a glance at the rest of the party.

"They are my companions..." He waved a hand for each to introduce himself.  As he did, each of the party members gave a fake name, and some ficticious background.  Each reply was like a dagger in Lew's heart.  Why must they always lie? Even Rowan... 

He expected little else from Quintus, but Rowan... he thought the ranger new better than to stray through the maze of Light and Shadow that are lies.

Quintus and Lew left the rest of the party in the piazza outside the church.  Lew did not want to drag the entire party through the cathedral until they were welcomed.

After a bit of discussion with a lay brother, Viato, the party was welcomed into the Cathedral.  Lew took a few minutes to pray to *Osirian*, thanking him for the safe journey.  He then found the others in the quarters that had been set aside for them, washed up, and prepared for dinner with the Abbot.

Dinner was quite different than what the northerners were accustomed to.  The foods were quite strange, but very good.  They had been invited to eat with the abbot, and the elders of the church.  Lew made a point to humbly thank them for the invitation, but was waved off without a thought.

The conversation revealed that Marcus had gone across the ocean on some quest for the church, and the the elder Knight of Tyrial was the brother of the man the party had met on the road.  They also learned that Abbot Pratroclian had taken over the Cathedral since the cardinal had become to ill to maintain his duties.

Dinner went on for some time, and the wine flowed freely.  It was late before they finally decided to call it a night.

The next day, Lew awoke to a pounding on his door.  Viato was panicked over something, and seemed to think Lew was the one to solve the problem.  A bit disgusted, Lew ended his morning prayers with haste, and threw the door open.

"What did Rose do now!"

Viato was a bit confused for a second.  "No, it is not Rose... there are people here to see you... come..."

Lew folowed him out to the altar where 15 or more people stood.  Each was deformed in one way or another from countless different diseases.  "Where is Lew the miracle worker?" one of them asked.

Lew's head swam.  There was nothing he could do for these people.  He could not tell them that he did not have the power to do what they asked.  He did not want to turn them from the Light.  Worse, he did not want to know what they would do if they thought that he could help, but was refusing.  'If I could only help them see the True Path...'

Lew got an idea... It was risky, but he did not know what else to do.

He spread his arms as though to embrace the croud in a hug. "Brother Lew is busy serving the Light in important ways..."

The crowd swarmed him.  Lew had to think fast.  The words flowed to his lips in an instant, and suddenly a ball of blue-white light shone amidst the crowd.  "Calm yourselves in the house of the Light!" His voiced boomed with authority, dropping the lilting tones he held before.

"Brother Lew serves the Light.  He has important work.  If it is healing ye seek, go north.  There you will find brother Lew... Seek out the Light... travel to Fort Scipio..."

One of the men turned toward Viato. "Is he not Brother Lew?"

Viato looked like he was ready to pee his pants.  "Yes, he is," was the reply he stammered out before he ran from the room.

Lew's shoulders slumped in despair as the mob rushed forward.  He pushed them away as best he could, but before long they had him pinned to the floor.  He gasped for breath, but under the weight of the mob, it was hopeless.  As darkness closed around him, he could not help but smile at the irony.  The very people he sought to help were those that would be his undoing..._

*~ Lew of Osirian*


----------



## WSmith

*Re: Did He or Didn't He???*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> The main thing I had a problem with was directing a band of cripples into the wilderness towards Fort Scipio, since no one but the party really knows what that is.  There is some type of presence trapped in the catacombs underneath the shrine...perhaps that is what he had in mind...but we may never know![/B]





Oh...My...God!!! I just envisioned yet another bizarre random wilderness encounter. While advancing through the sparse forest, the party hears some moans and cries or pain and anguish. After investigating they stumble upon a group of cripples and diseased people, on a pilgramage to the "miracle workers" fortress.


----------



## Old One

*Re: Re: Did He or Didn't He???*



			
				WSmith said:
			
		

> *
> 
> 
> Oh...My...God!!! I just envisioned yet another bizarre random wilderness encounter. While advancing through the sparse forest, the party hears some moans and cries or pain and anguish. After investigating they stumble upon a group of cripples and diseased people, on a pilgramage to the "miracle workers" fortress.   *




Now that would be priceless!  Maybe I can work that in somehow...kind of reminds me of the "Crusade of Peter Bartholomew"...that one didn't end very well!

Old One

PS - Story Hour Post #100!


----------



## Oberton

*Baths and such*

Old One,

I am trying to picture what old world baths looked like.  One the web I found this resource Roman house 

Compared to your story is the VESTIBULUM similar in nature to the one on this site?


----------



## Old One

*A couple of links...*

O'berton,

I am not exactly sure what you are looking for, but try these links:

Layout of bath in private home - This is what the bath in the guesthouse at the cathedral would resemble, except it doesn't contain the "cold room".

The Public Baths of Carcalla and Pompeii - This article is _very_ detailed and discuss the whole process of bathing in Roman times - from start to finish!

Plan for the Forum Baths at Pompeii

Roman Bath Tour - Click on the various items on page 2-3 for reconstructions.

Give those a shot and see how they work for you.  If you are looking for something else, give me a shout!

Old One


----------



## WSmith

Old One, have you ever seen the books by David Macaulley? There are several, including "Castle", "Pyramid", and the one "City" is about the construction of a Roman city, IIRC in around 300 A.D. They are all illustrated and propably considered a kid's book, I would say, cause when I was younger I would check them out every chance I got at the library and just stare at the pictures.


----------



## Old One

*They are great...*

WSmith -

One of the guys I used to game with in NC had the Castle, Cathedral and City books and they were excellent.  I keep meaning to pick them up, since they are handy, easy-to-understand references.  I just need to find a discount bookstore...

Old One


----------



## Darklone

*Re: Re: Did He or Didn't He???*



			
				WSmith said:
			
		

> *
> 
> 
> Oh...My...God!!! I just envisioned yet another bizarre random wilderness encounter. While advancing through the sparse forest, the party hears some moans and cries or pain and anguish. After investigating they stumble upon a group of cripples and diseased people, on a pilgramage to the "miracle workers" fortress.   *




I actually HAD several wilderness encounters like this yet... Pilgrims everywhere. My players rescued more than one group of pilgrims on their way to a holy place who were attacked or captured by gnolls, kobolds, ogres, wolves, bandits,... They HATE pilgrims now. Lately I nearly stopped it though .... As well changed the campaign world twice since then 
Those players usually sneak well through the woods... (they don't trust me!) And they hated to be dragged into the open to rescue someone.


----------



## Oberton

*Re: Re: Re: Did He or Didn't He???*



			
				Darklone said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Those players usually sneak well through the woods... (they don't trust me!) And they hated to be dragged into the open to rescue someone. *




Sounds like it is time to use a few LIVING PLANTS and such...  That should drive them out of the woods...


----------



## Lela

*Re: Re: Re: Re: Did He or Didn't He???*



			
				Oberton said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Sounds like it is time to use a few LIVING PLANTS and such...  That should drive them out of the woods... *




Oooooo, Me Like.


----------



## Darklone

*Hmmmm EVIL*

Two letter word for EVIL? DM.

Plantmonsters... Uh I am soo much low fantasy... But I think I have to import some nice things. But I like that. Though the current group (Dougal) is not the pilgrim ones. And the current one CAN NOT SNEAK (chinkchinkchinkchink... What? Another ambush? How did they find us? Chinkchinkchink)


----------



## Old One

*Update Coming...*

Greetings All!

Thanks for the patience...I am enjoying the "Attack of the Giant Plant Monsters" sidetrek!  I am busy prepping for a business trip, but will try to get an update posted in the next day or two.  I will try to get *Session 12* finished up and *Session 13* underway!

Just a little teaser...

The *Table of Elemental Evil* rises up as the DM takes out 4 party members in 4 rounds with a DC 13 1st level spell...

Old One


----------



## Plane Sailing

Well, I've been away from the storyhour for a while, but decided to tackle it once more after appreciating your RBDMC work - and I'm mighty glad that I did!

I (like many others) particularly liked the bard contest (a nice contrast to duelling banjos), and the scene with Lew and the cripples seeking miracles was excellent. I really appreciate it when players are able to make, uh, suboptimal decisions in order to reflect what the character is feeling. Only one of my players is particularly good at that sort of thing.

Now I'm back, I'll put in the effort to stay current.

(After all, I've got to find out more about the shadowy character who chuckled when seeing them enter the city...)

Cheers


----------



## el-remmen

I love what happened with Lew.

I had a similar thing happen a few years ago in an Aquerra campaign when the party entered a beseiged mountain town and the paladin of Horus cast _cure disease_ on someone - the next thing she knew she was running for her life while an crowd in a mix of awe and anger chased her wanting to be healed again and cursing here when she couldn't (she could only do it once per week).

It was a great encounter.

I'm glad to see that someone else makes sure that healing "miracles" remain miraculous - and has people react appropriately.  I think it is even better than Lew did nothing divine whatsoever 

You are an evil man. . . .I bet you are one of those dispicable Rat Bastard DMs that I despise and will NEVER be a part of.  NEVER!  NEVER, I SAY!


----------



## Darklone

*Re: Update Coming...*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *Greetings All!
> 
> Thanks for the patience...I am enjoying the "Attack of the Giant Plant Monsters" sidetrek!
> Just a little teaser...
> 
> The Table of Elemental Evil rises up as the DM takes out 4 party members in 4 rounds with a DC 13 1st level spell...
> 
> Old One *




Argh!

Not tease! Write! *comment of one of our halforc barbarians*

4 players down  Wait (fingercount)... 1 .. Quintus... 2.... Sextus... (didn't that mean 6th asked the gnome mage and the halforc starts again) ... 3 ... Rowan.... 4 ... Rose .... Uh. All. 

ALL PLAYERS DOWN ??? Reminds me of those Lifeaction stories we had when the paladin walked naked back into town with a barrel on his hip... three times at one day!!!!  (Guess who was the brigands leader!)


----------



## Tortoise

*Re: Re: Update Coming...*



			
				Darklone said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Argh!
> 
> Not tease! Write! *comment of one of our halforc barbarians*
> 
> 4 players down  Wait (fingercount)... 1 .. Quintus... 2.... Sextus... (didn't that mean 6th asked the gnome mage and the halforc starts again) ... 3 ... Rowan.... 4 ... Rose .... Uh. All.
> 
> ALL PLAYERS DOWN ??? Reminds me of those Lifeaction stories we had when the paladin walked naked back into town with a barrel on his hip... three times at one day!!!!  (Guess who was the brigands leader!) *




Hmmm... methinks he miscounted ... 1 Quintus, 2 Sextus, 3 Rowan, 4 Rose, 5 Lew

80% casualty rate, not nice day for good guys, no-siree!


----------



## Lela

Hmmmm.  I believe that a Netbook for RBDMs was once mentioned.  Anyone willing to share?

Also, anymore interesting little tidbits that I could use to make a city a lot more buricratic?  Could really have some fun w/ this.


----------



## Darklone

*Re: Re: Re: Update Coming...*



			
				Tortoise said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Hmmm... methinks he miscounted ... 1 Quintus, 2 Sextus, 3 Rowan, 4 Rose, 5 Lew
> 
> 80% casualty rate, not nice day for good guys, no-siree! *




Uh... Halforc says: Who counts priests? 

Between: Ever saw a halforc who could count to 5?

Lela: Some ideas: Taxes for bridges. Taxes to carry weapons. IF you have a certificate to wear them. Which you must get elsewhere. Taxes for equipment. Taxes for food bought elsewhere. Taxes to change cash into the local currency. Taxes for animals. Certificates that animals are not contagious. Taxes to pass gates. There may be several gates between each quarter of the city... 

Ain't got more ideas but I am sure you get the image. Now put all those offices where you get those certificates in different parts of the city. And the players need a certificate that they are allowed without certificate into a certain part of town for one day to get another certificate...

Simply follow rule nr.1 of bureau-craziness:
They need 5 to ten things. Now group those things into three groups. They need group 1 to get group 2 but need group three to get group one and group 2 to get group three....

It's very easy. You'll see. And always follow the rule that a guy in an office never tells you the easy way. Example:

They arrive at the gate. The soldiers ask them for their certificate. They don't have one. They are ordered to get one in a little bureau next to the gate and come back. The guy in the bureau asks them a lot of silly questions (do you want to kill the king? If you ever traveled into the US as European you'll know what I am talking about). Then he gives them a certificate to enter the city. They leave and the soldier in front of the house asks them for a certificate for their animals since he will not allow the horses and baggage inside the city otherwise. Back inside. The guy there moans. Why didn't you ask that the first time? Perhaps let them queue some time. 

To get the certificate for the animals they have to go elsewhere to the animals doc... then come back. For the animals doc they need a certificate that the horses are allowed in the city since he wants to examine them and don't want to go to the gate. 

Think you get the image. If your players ever asked why LAWFUL EVIL is the funniest alignment...


----------



## Old One

*More Bureuacracy...*

Darklone is off to a great start...

Other items include:

(1) You have to have a permit for _everything_!  Animals in the city, gear over 10 lbs, carrying weapons, operating a wagon within city limits, transporting goods within city limits.  Of course each permit is handled by a different agency (in a different part of the city) and each one costs money.  At each agency, the PCs have to wait in long lines and self-important officials ask lots of nosy questions.  Sometimes, the paperwork needs the signature or seal of a senior official who is "out-to-lunch".

(2) To add teeth to it, place wall between the different sections of the city with checkpoints where all of the papers are checked.  Failure to have the proper paperwork can result in a fine, confiscation of goods or even a night in jail.  Regardless, the PCs will be sent back to the agencies they must get paperwork from.

(3) If the PCs meet the right people or pay the right bribes, they can vastly speed up the process.  Imagine the PCs waiting in line for half the day, only to have another adventuring group breeze in, hand the official a small sack of coins and be on their way in 5 minutes.  Of course, throw in the odd official that won't take bribes and brings charges against them if they try just to keep them on their toes!

(4) A vast underground economy dealing in fake papers and ways around the regulations would probably exist, but penalties for getting caught would most likely be severe.  A good scam would be for a thieve's guild to set up a fake, but official looking checkpoint, rip the PCs off, then disappear.  Later, the PCs get caught with fake papers and get in a heap of trouble.

Have fun with it!

Old One


----------



## Rel

*Re: More Bureuacracy...*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *Darklone is off to a great start...
> 
> Other items include: ...
> 
> Old One *




Ugh.  Those are great ideas, Old One.  But my players hate me enough already.

And I also have to be able to look at myself in the mirror.  I mean, wholesale slaughtering the party with a squad of beholders and an ancient red dragon is one thing.  But bureaucrats? *shudders*


----------



## Lela

*Re: Re: More Bureuacracy...*



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Ugh.  Those are great ideas, Old One.  But my players hate me enough already.
> 
> And I also have to be able to look at myself in the mirror.  I mean, wholesale slaughtering the party with a squad of beholders and an ancient red dragon is one thing.  But bureaucrats? *shudders* *




He has a good point here Old One.  You may be a Rat Bastard DM but that doesn't mean you have to be evil.


----------



## Old One

*More Evil RBDM Ideas...*

A couple of other things I thought of while driving today...

(1) How about a city that not only has all of the bureaucratic BS, but you also have to be a member of a union to craft, trade or "do" anything...

To craft armor, you have to be a member of the _Most Honorable Order of Hammermen, Local 29_.  To sell loot stripped from defeated enemies, you have to join the _Provisioners, Re-sellers and Tinkers United_.  To adventure, you must belong to the _International Brotherhood of Delvers and Sellsword, Doric Chapter_!

Belonging to the Union, of course, means paying dues, only associating with other union members and leadership approved business and mandatory participation in work stoppages!

(2) An adventure where the PCs are trying to get the proper permits to explore an underground ruin.  They  must go to 6 different agencies to get all of the proper forms and seals of approval.  They discover a rival group is trying to get the approvals too...and the race is on!  Of course, failure to obtain all proper approval results in forfieture of all illegally obtained goods to the Excheceur!

Old One


----------



## Dougal DeKree

*Fantasy and Unions...and PAGE NUMBER NINE IS MINE AND SOON THE WORLD!!! ;-)*

Hey OldOne and the other "realists"...

The Union-thing was a real good laugh, but since the discussion about unnerving players with ever the more regulations in forms of "re-sellers-guilds" and so on, i just wanted to remind you that a lot of people have to handle just this kind of problem every day in their RL and sometimes play to escape it for a little while...
Only a thought.

Dougal
"If you are totally down, it can only go in one direction!"
"Sideways?!"

edited to claim page number nine (from outer space?!  )


----------



## Darklone

*Re Dougal*

Ohhhh ... Have to admit Dougal has a point there. As usual. Don't you hate players who always know things better than yourself? 
 

Yooh Old One. Bureacrazyness rules. I have to admit, I learned from a nice player who talked a paladin nearly into suicide after that paladin beheaded a necromancer who was walking around with some undead servants... In a city!

Gladly a silvertongued priest came by and stopped the paladin who was going to kill himself since he was convinced he did something very bad and would never be able to atone... But even the two of them didn't manage to justify the kill 

That guy showed me: Brutes who kill whole villages or even cities are the lesser evils without the wits to be really evil. The true joy lies in twisting the minds of lesser beings. Since the truely evil guy is convinced that there are only lesser beings... 

I drift of. But I still want to add. The NPC role I liked best was a geased devil who was forfeit to do bad things. So he proceeded to do good things that turned bad for someone else.


----------



## Lela

*Re: Re Dougal*



			
				Darklone said:
			
		

> *Ohhhh ... Have to admit Dougal has a point there. As usual. Don't you hate players who always know things better than yourself?
> 
> 
> Yooh Old One. Bureacrazyness rules. I have to admit, I learned from a nice player who talked a paladin nearly into suicide after that paladin beheaded a necromancer who was walking around with some undead servants... In a city!
> 
> Gladly a silvertongued priest came by and stopped the paladin who was going to kill himself since he was convinced he did something very bad and would never be able to atone... But even the two of them didn't manage to justify the kill
> 
> That guy showed me: Brutes who kill whole villages or even cities are the lesser evils without the wits to be really evil. The true joy lies in twisting the minds of lesser beings. Since the truely evil guy is convinced that there are only lesser beings...
> 
> I drift of. But I still want to add. The NPC role I liked best was a geased devil who was forfeit to do bad things. So he proceeded to do good things that turned bad for someone else. *




So, was this a repentant Necromancer?  Did he make a full confesion?  Was he about to make restitution to those he killed, maimed, and sung to?  Or, was he [New York accent] just walking here.[/New York Accent]


----------



## JacktheRabbit

*Re: More Bureuacracy...*

MAke a day trip of it. Roleplay they whole think at your local DNV and your players can truly feel their characters pain.

Or they can do the opposite and decide to let civilization sink into the mire it belongs in and head back out into the wild.

Don't take this the wrong way because I love reading your story hour. You just seem to enjoy screwing with your players too much for my taste.




			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *Darklone is off to a great start...
> 
> Other items include:
> 
> (1) You have to have a permit for everything!  Animals in the city, gear over 10 lbs, carrying weapons, operating a wagon within city limits, transporting goods within city limits.  Of course each permit is handled by a different agency (in a different part of the city) and each one costs money.  At each agency, the PCs have to wait in long lines and self-important officials ask lots of nosy questions.  Sometimes, the paperwork needs the signature or seal of a senior official who is "out-to-lunch".
> 
> (2) To add teeth to it, place wall between the different sections of the city with checkpoints where all of the papers are checked.  Failure to have the proper paperwork can result in a fine, confiscation of goods or even a night in jail.  Regardless, the PCs will be sent back to the agencies they must get paperwork from.
> 
> (3) If the PCs meet the right people or pay the right bribes, they can vastly speed up the process.  Imagine the PCs waiting in line for half the day, only to have another adventuring group breeze in, hand the official a small sack of coins and be on their way in 5 minutes.  Of course, throw in the odd official that won't take bribes and brings charges against them if they try just to keep them on their toes!
> 
> (4) A vast underground economy dealing in fake papers and ways around the regulations would probably exist, but penalties for getting caught would most likely be severe.  A good scam would be for a thieve's guild to set up a fake, but official looking checkpoint, rip the PCs off, then disappear.  Later, the PCs get caught with fake papers and get in a heap of trouble.
> 
> Have fun with it!
> 
> Old One *


----------



## Mishihari Lord

*Re: Fantasy and Unions...and PAGE NUMBER NINE IS MINE AND SOON THE WORLD!!! ;-)*



			
				Dougal DeKree said:
			
		

> *Hey OldOne and the other "realists"...
> 
> The Union-thing was a real good laugh, but since the discussion about unnerving players with ever the more regulations in forms of "re-sellers-guilds" and so on, i just wanted to remind you that a lot of people have to handle just this kind of problem every day in their RL and sometimes play to escape it for a little while...
> Only a thought.
> *




This kind of stuff can be fun, if you're in the right mind set.  I've had some killer Paranoia adventure with this kind of set up.


----------



## Darklone

*Re: Re: Re Dougal*



			
				Lela said:
			
		

> *
> 
> So, was this a repentant Necromancer?  Did he make a full confesion?  Was he about to make restitution to those he killed, maimed, and sung to?  Or, was he [New York accent] just walking here.[/New York Accent] *




Actually the necromancer was another player... and he simply thought everyone will be peeing in his pants (sorry ) when he walks around like this. Wrong guess. 
Let's call it evolution. Cleverness survives.

I often tried to repeat or even partially recall how that guy talked to the paladin. I never succeeded.  But I liked it!

About the bribes, Old One... Was so consumed by the outlook to confront Dougals group with bureau-crazy... Nearly forgot it. 

Well. I prefer wilderness settings to Dungeoncrawling and alleysneaking. But I am tempted


----------



## Old One

*Re: Re: More Bureuacracy...*



			
				DocMoriartty said:
			
		

> *MAke a day trip of it. Roleplay they whole think at your local DNV and your players can truly feel their characters pain.
> 
> Or they can do the opposite and decide to let civilization sink into the mire it belongs in and head back out into the wild.
> 
> Don't take this the wrong way because I love reading your story hour. You just seem to enjoy screwing with your players too much for my taste.
> 
> 
> *




Doc -

Thanks for stoppin' in!  We are just having "speculative conversations" here - I am not saying that I actually make my PCs suffer through this - we don't have that much playing time!

I do like throwing lots of curves at the PCs, but I also solicit regular feedback from them to make sure they are always having fun!  Thanks for your continued readership and the comments!

Old One


----------



## Lela

*Anyways. . .*

So, on the topic of this _most exellent_ Story Hour: When can we expect another update, Great Master of DMness?  When do we learn of the *Table of Elemental Evil*'s new foray into the relm of the three Ds (death, distruction and devilry)?  


Sorry, we had an in-class Creative Writing assiginment and I got too into it.  Still a little. . . into the drama.   Don't know how I managed to keep goblins and gnolls out of it though.


----------



## Dougal DeKree

*splitting officeworks*

...just wondered, how exactly does Rose feel about those union-thingies? Isn't it time he took his axe and...makes cuttings remarks? 

On the other hand, having to get a formular for just about everything might save your group, OldOne, since they forgot to get a paper that permits them to die 

And now the most imporant question...when will the next installment be here? I want to see the TofEE lose it's power!  

Dougal
"Hope shall be the blade that severs our bonds"


----------



## Old One

*Update Coming...*

Greetings All!

I appreciate the patience, I am out of town on business this week and didn't bring all my notes with me...

I am trying to reconstruct the final parts of *Session 12* + an _Interlude_.  I hope to have something out by tomorrow, Sunday at the latest!

Old One


----------



## Darklone

*ToEE*

Concerning the Table of Elemental Evil: 

Dougal will surely be happy to send 3 or more D20 to you guys... But always roll them with the left hand. And bring enough beer for the frustrated Old One.


----------



## JacktheRabbit

*Re: Re: Re: More Bureuacracy...*

All hypothetical, oh ok. My bad. Apologies extended.




			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Doc -
> 
> Thanks for stoppin' in!  We are just having "speculative conversations" here - I am not saying that I actually make my PCs suffer through this - we don't have that much playing time!
> 
> I do like throwing lots of curves at the PCs, but I also solicit regular feedback from them to make sure they are always having fun!  Thanks for your continued readership and the comments!
> 
> Old One *


----------



## Old One

*Re: More Bureuacracy...*



			
				DocMoriartty said:
			
		

> *All hypothetical, oh ok. My bad. Apologies extended.
> 
> 
> *




Doc -

No problem!  Should have that long-delayed update coming soon!

Old One


----------



## Old One

*Wow...Off the Front Page!*

Greetings Gang...

Sorry for the lack of an update.  I tried to post directly to the boards yesterday AM (instead of pasting from Word) and lost everything when the board went "wonky").

Will repost soon!

Old One


----------



## Lela

*Re: Wow...Off the Front Page!*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *Greetings Gang...
> 
> Sorry for the lack of an update.  I tried to post directly to the boards yesterday AM (instead of pasting from Word) and lost everything when the board went "wonky").
> 
> Will repost soon!
> 
> Old One *




If there's one thing I learned while doing the Fight Club stuff, it's that you *NEVER* do a long post w/o a Word Processor.

NEVER.

You see, as per Merphy's law, the only time the boards go wacky is when *you* need to make a long post and don't use Word.

Mabey it's Microsoft, trying to make sure you use their product.  Mabey it's the *Table* playing a trick on the DM.
My belief, Morris just loves hearing people scream in agony from accross the country:

Old One: "Aggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!  NOOOOOO!!!"

Morris: "Was that one ours?"

Eric: "Let me check the server."  _Types for a second,_ "Yes."

PKitty: "Yes!!!  That makes three today!"

Morris: "Time for the Happy Dance!"


_Sceen Deleted by those of us who are sane._


----------



## Darklone

*Dice (and page 10 is MINE)*

Sorry to withdraw my proposal concerning Dougals dice... 

We got another ToEE here now. Played in a new location last week... with a nice old table. 

Well... Dougals "natural 20 die" rolled several natural 1s in a row... didn't count myself but more than 4 in 6 rolls. He's right now busy trying all of Quickbeams dice exorcisms.

At least he's convinced now never again to roll on the table (which he did the first time).


----------



## Lela

*We now know the true place in which evil resides.*

It jumps from *Table* to *Table*, terrorizing gamers everywhere.

"Run!!!!!  I think the kitchen *Table* just ate my DMG!!!!!" 

"No, I have it."

Sheepishly, "I knew that."


----------



## Old One

*Session 12 (Part III)*

*Martyr or Madman*

The rest of the party was just stirring themselves, trying to decide between breakfast or a bath, when a red-faced Viato burst into the guesthouse.  “C-c-come quick,” the overwrought lad stammered, “Brother Lew is in trouble!”

Without waiting for a reply, the lad turned and bounded out the door, headed toward the Cathedral.  Exchanging concerned but confused glances, the party snatched up the gear that was close at hand and followed, barely keeping the fleet-footed aspirant in view.  They followed him through the western bell tower and into the Foyer, arriving just in time to see Lew being swallowed by a tide of gnarled men and women crying at the top of their lungs for the “miracle worker” to save them!  Above the strange tableaux floated a soft blue-while ball of light.

After a moment’s hesitation, Rowan and Rosë dove into the pile and began bodily hauling cripples and amputees off of their friend.  Just then, Sergeant-Brother Fortian appeared in the doorway from the eastern bell tower and thundered, “What in the name of all the Archangels is going on here?  This is the House of _Osrisian_, not a dockside tavern!”

The burly church knight evaluated the scene for a moment, then drew his _spatha_ and waded in, using the pommel and flat of the blade to momentarily stun Lew’s assailants.  They were making headway, but Quintus could see that Lew had stopped struggling and gone completely limp.  Thinking quickly, he called upon his _Ghost Sound_ cantrip to shout, with the strength of a dozen men “Stop in the name of Osirian!”

The immense bellow, coupled with the efforts of the rest of the party, soon quelled the minor riot.  Several of the wretches that had come seeking cures were bloody and battered and one was unconscious.  Fortian quickly asserted his authority and, not unkindly, ushered the now subdued band of supplicants from the Foyer and out into the piazza.  Returning, he sternly inquired, “Who wants to tell me what happened here?”

Rowan looked up from tending Lew, who he found be alive but unconscious and badly battered, and shrugged.  The rest of the party exchanged uneasy glances, and then Viato spoke up in a voice akin to a terrified squeak, “T-t-that band of people came looking from Brother Lew at first light.  T-t-they claimed he was some sort of miracle worker and that he could heal twisted limbs and broken bodies.  I-I-I got Brother Lew, then they didn’t like what he was saying, so they jumped all over him.”

The lad lapsed into silence, a stricken look on his face.  Rowan and Rosë exchanged glances, and then collapsed to the floor, howling in laughter.  Sextus joined in, but managed to keep his feet.  Only Quintus succeeded in maintaining control.  Fortian, jaw set in a tight line, stepped forward and began to speak, but he was cut short by the arrival of Abbot Patroclian.

“What is going on here?” The Abbot intoned evenly.

Sergeant-Brother Fortian snapped to attention and rendered a terse report.  Nodding, the Abbot stifled the merriment of Rosë and Rowan with a withering glance and instructed the party to bring Lew and follow him to his chambers.  He paused to glance at the droplets of blood and scraps of cloth – torn from Lew’s robes – that dotted the Foyer.  Without turning his head, he commanded, “Viato, see that this mess is cleaned up with 15 turns of the minute glass.”

Carrying Lew’s limp body, they followed the Abbot to the First Rectory and ascended to the 2nd floor.  Abbot Patroclian ushered them into a small, well-appointed sitting room and gestured towards a silk divan along one wall, “Place him there.”

“Tell me what you know of this event,” the Abbot asked, but his demeanor indicated that it was a demand, not a request.

The party related the story of the farmer (Kordas) and how Lew fixed the man’s back.  He questioned them closely and seemed very interested as to whether or not Lew had held himself out to be a “miracle worker”.  Seemingly satisfied that Lew had not done wrong, Abbot Patroclian sighed, “It seems, then, that this was a simple misunderstanding…an unfortunate occurrence.  Still, I think it would be best if you did not use the main entrances of the Cathedral for several days – I do not want to see a repeat of today’s sorry affair.  There is a concealed postern gate that exits the Cathedral grounds near the Custom’s House in the Dock Quarter.  I will instruct Viato to show you how to use it.  Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to speak with Brother Lew alone.”

As they stood to leave, Quintus inquired about any workers of magic that might be able to discern the nature of some of their items.  “I do not deal much with arcane devices, but I understand that Lonic, who owns a Curio’s shop on the northeast corner of the piazza, has some expertise in that area.  Others who know more of such things speak highly of him, although he keeps strange hours.”

Quintus thanked him and the Abbot dismissed them with a wave of his hand.  As they filed from the room, they saw him lay his hands of the unconscious form of their friend and begin to chant.  The blue-white glow of _Osirian’s_ power suffused the chamber as they pulled the door shut.  They shared several quiet chuckles as they returned to their guesthouse, but their chuckles turned to epithets as they arrived to find Drusilla gone!  She had used the commotion of the morning’s events to quietly slip away.

An irritated Quintus read the note she had left on his bed.

_Quintus –

I am eternally grateful to you and your companions for seeing me safely to Oar, but I fear that my presence among you places all of you in grave danger.  I feel it is best for me to seek my friends alone.  I will be in touch with you as soon as it is safe.

My thanks,

~ D_

As Quintus shared the contents of the note, a chastened Lew, replete with battered body and bruised pride, arrived.  He reacted to the good-natured ribbing of his companions with little enthusiasm and quickly made it clear that he was in no mood to discuss the morning’s events.  Even so, muted barbs kept flying his way!

Shortly after the noon meal, they sought out Viato.  He had already received instructions from the Abbot and took them to the postern gate, situated behind a small grove of trees along the western wall of the compound.  He showed them how to operate the gate from each direction, and then excused himself to continue his duties.  Lew’s temper remained short as they departed the compound for the Dock Quarter and he soon lapsed into sullen silence.

They passed through the postern gate and found themselves in a narrow, refuse-choked alley behind a squat, four-story stone building.  Trying to avoid the worst of the garbage, they picked their way through the alley, turned down another alley and made their way to the waterfront.  For the second time in as many days, they stopped and stared in amazement.

The harbor was teaming with ships and activity.  The vessels ranged in size from 2-man skiffs to harbor barges to fishing dhows to trade galleys.  Six stone quays jutted out into the harbor like giant fingers and rickety looking wooden docks sprouted from each quay.  In addition to the Custom’s House, whose shadow they stood in, a dozen large warehouses and several dozen smaller buildings crowded around the waterfront.  

Small gangs of porters and stevedores, bare-chested and glistening with sweat, labored to move cargo between the ships and the warehouses under the curse-laden shouts of bosun’s mates.  Large block-and-tackle contraptions swung nets filled with timber, stone and ore into the holds of some ships and pulled tuns of wine, crated furniture and even an ornate carriage from the holds of others.  Half-a-dozen sea shanties, some accompanied by pipes or drums, echoed across the harbor, vying for the attention of the party’s ears.

“Those are some big canoes,” Rosë said in awe.

Their interest in the scene was soon overcome by the briny stench of the harbor.  Dead fish and other unidentifiable flotsam lapped up against the quayside and the stagnant midday air, heavy and humid, held the variety of mostly unpleasant smells in place.  They made their way along waterfront, using the soaring towers of the Cathedral to guide them back to the Merchant’s Quarter.  Just before they reached the main avenue or _Via_, they passed a ramshackle three-story inn on the right whose sign proclaimed _The Boarding Pike_.

Despite the early hour, nearly a score of rough-looking men lounged on the uneven porch, sitting on stools and overturned crates.  They regarded the party with dull, unfriendly eyes – well into their cups despite the early hour.  One enormous brute, with hairy arms and an ample belly, caught and held Rosë’s gaze with bloodshot eyes.  He grinned a mostly toothless grin and caressed the well-worn hilt of a fighting dirk, nodding an unspoken challenge at the large barbarian.  Proud, but not foolish, Rosë let it pass and continued on his way, although he could feel the eyes boring into his back as he turned the corner.

The quality of the air improved as they moved from the Dock Quarter to the Merchant’s Quarter.  The guards at the gate between the two quarters showed as little interest in the party as they did in maintaining their equipment, which was spotted with rust.  Quintus shook his head in disgust, trying to imagine what it must have been like when legionnaires and not ill-trained merchant mercenaries stood guard.  They soon found themselves back in the main plaza before the Cathedral, which was teeming with activity.

Parti-colored awnings jutted out from most shops, shading patrons from the midday sun.  All manner of shops – leatherworks, coopers, cobblers, haberdashers and others – were buzzing with activity.  A sweetmeat vendor hobbled by, pushing a swaying cart laden with a broad variety of edibles.  As they entered the plaza, a small band of young boys with green scarves tied about their heads bandana style raced by.  Behind them, a larger group, marked by red scarves pursued, whooping and hollering.  ‘It is not even Marktday,’ Sextus thought to himself, ‘I wonder how busy it is then!’

They split into several groups.  Rosë sought out a metal worker who could fashion a bronze “rainhat” for him.  Sextus and Lew went off in search of new clothes and Rowan and Quintus made for Lonic’s Curio shop.  

Rosë followed his ears to an open-air forge where a burly Khazardyn pounded on a partially finished sword.  Several human lads were busy polishing finished items and hanging them for display.  When queried, the stocky smith introduced himself as Kontmor.  He and Rosë haggled back and forth over the commission.  They could reach no agreement, but Rosë promised to return latter to discuss it further.

_(DM’s Note: This was actually a pretty funny part of the session.  Rosë wanted a “bronze rainhat” – essentially a bronze gladiator-type helmet that would keep his head dry, not necessarily ward him from enemy blows.  Kontmor, the Khazardyn (half-dwarf) smith, thought he was somewhat “touched”.  They went back and forth for a while before agreeing to take up the discussion at a later time.)_

Sextus and Lew quickly found decent clothing to replace their threadbare and travel stained garb and Sextus commissioned a dashing outfit.

Meanwhile, Rowan and Quintus located Lonic’s Curio shop – a deep, narrow affair that was certainly full of curios!  Shelves and racks were place haphazardly around the shop, each one filled with row upon row of jars filled with various liquids, crystals and powders.  Stuffed animals and parts of stuffed animals adorned the walls and Rowan got the distinct feeling that some of the animals were _watching_ them as they moved through the shop.  Various odds and ends – lamps, paintings, chairs, statuettes and other trinkets – added to the clutter.  

Lonic turned out to be a tall, impossibly thin man of indeterminate age.  He wore dark charcoal robes that hung loosely from his cadaverous frame and spoke in a sonorous monotone.  He agreed to examine the party’s treasure and determine what he could of its nature.  He quoted them the staggering sum of 2,000 denarii for service and indicated it would take several days.  Noting the look of horror on Quintus’ face, he explained that the spell was costly and that he had to assume certain dangers inherent with the application of the ritual.

Quintus sputtered his thanks and drug Rowan back outside.  “Let’s gather the others – we have some decisions to make!”

*To Be Continued…*

*Next: Interlude – The Party Finally Gets Paid!*

Old One


----------



## Old One

*Interlude*

This is the text of the between game update I provided for the players.  They managed to scrape together the 1,000 denarii downpayment Lonic demanded to identify their items, primarily by selling a number of gems they had accumlated during their travels.  This meant that Quintus had to delay summoning his familiar _yet_ again!

*The Party Gets Paid - Finally!*

The past several days have passed quickly and the morning of Marktday is upon you.  Quintus gathered the necessary funds and delivered the magical items to Lonic along with the down payment.  He bade you return on the morning of Marktday for his findings.  

You are starting to learn your way around the city – what areas to travel in and what areas to avoid!  You quickly come to the conclusion that the Dock Quarter is not safe to visit at night.  Half-a-dozen seedy taverns and houses of ill-repute serve sailors watered down beer and worn-out wenches.  Names like The _Strident Trident_ and _The One-Eyed Wench_ are commonplace.  In addition, gangs of toughs, primarily “Greens” and “Reds” roam the quarter at night, brawling and accosting passerbys.  Rosë narrowly avoids several altercations and you quickly learn to steer clear of the roving troublemakers.

You learn that the city has two harbors…the main harbor, where most of the trade vessels put in and the Bishop’s Harbor, so-called because it contains docks for the Bishop’s private vessel, along with docks for most of the merchant captains.  Both harbors are guarded by metal and wood booms that are lowered to allow vessels to enter and raised to block the harbor in case of a sea-borne attack.  The fortifications guarding the sea approach seem to be in pretty poor repair.

You take advantage of the large number of shops to replace worn equipment and buy new clothes to replace your mud and bloodstained garb.  Viato suggests you wait until Marktday for any major purchases, since the large number of merchants usually leads to better deals!

Lew has kept to himself the last couple of days and has seemed fairly subdued on the occasions that he has been with you.  He has spent most of the daytime in prayer in the Cathedral.  Quintus spends most of his time in the library, searching for information on the *Cult of Ashai*.  The work is tedious, for the Cathedral holds many manuscripts, scrolls and tomes on a variety of theological and secular areas of study.  Quintus, along with Sextus’ spotty assistance, is able to determine the following:

 Ashai was/is thought to be the offspring of Baelzar and Voryndiel.
 She carried power from both demonic parents and built a small but deadly following in the time of the Shadowlord.
 Her sign is the jawless skull w/downward pointed dagger.
 She was particularly active in the Lost Northern Provinces and was thought to have alliances with the Felevar of the Great Northern Forest.
 Her followers made extensive use of undead servants and undead assassins to do their bidding.  Her followers seemed to be able to exert undue control over undead and fortify them to resist the power of the Light.
 Her followers were known to raid graves and stalk battlefields, raising undead and taking them to do their bidding.
 Her most puissant followers operated from a secret fortress near the northern city of Lords.  A specific reference is not given, but the passage relates, _“…look nigh within the shadows of the dragon’s horns, betwixt the granite water and the orchard of stone.  There, beneath the beds of the ancestors will you find the nest of foul Ashai.”_
 Another, far more troubling fragment reads, _“This then I tell you, when the dagger of darkness is once again made whole and the dead walk and the children wail will she of the darkest night and the seed of darkness come into her own.  Great though the evil is, it but presages the awakening of the enemy who seeks to engulf us with the darkness of eternal slavery and damnation.  Thus spoke to me the angel of the One True God.”_  A notation in the margin, barely legible, reads _“Nolius, mad sage of Atticus…ER 2710?”_
You receive no word from Drusilla and grow increasingly concerned about the sole surviving daughter of Calian Cassuvius.

The morning of Marktday, you rise early, bathe, eat and head to the Curio shop of Lonic.  He bids you welcome and explains that he has learned something of the nature of the items that you brought, but demands the balance before continuing.  You haggle a bit and he finally agrees to reveal what he has discovered, since you come under the good auspices of the Church of Light.  He tells you the following:

 The satchel and writing set will always refill to 25 sheets overnight, provided at least one sheet is left in the satchel at all times.  In addition, the parchment is of the highest quality and suitable for penning scrolls or pages of a spell book.  He shows an interest in the items and is willing to pay or trade 12,000 denarii for the item.
 The skillet greatly enhances cooking ability of anything cooked in it, virtually guaranteeing a gourmet quality meal every time it is used.  He also shows an interest in this item and offers to pay or trade 4,000 denarii for it.  *(Player information: +10 to cooking checks.)*
 The ring is a protection device that makes one harder to hit.  He has no need for such an item but might be able to find a buyer for it for a 20% commission.  He thinks it could fetch up to 10,000 denarii.  *(Player information: +1 ring of protection.)*
 The axe has the ability to shift to several different sizes – from throwing/hand axe to battleaxe to great axe.  The command word is _“Razul”_ and it takes a few grains for each transformation to take place.  He is not an expert in weapons or armor, but feels the axe is worth at least 8,000 denarii – possibly more.
 He indicates Rowan’s sword is what is known as a “bonded weapon”.  They used to be quite common at the height of Emor’s power, but are now rarely seen (or rarely recognized).  They appear as common weapons, but when their wielders place some of their life energies within the weapon through a special bonding ceremony, then the power of the weapon is revealed.  Some weapons have few powers and some have many.  The longer the weapons stays bonded with the owner and the more essence the owner places within the weapon, the more powerful it can become.  He indicates that the surface power (first power) imbues the wielder with extraordinary jumping ability.  He hesitates to put a price on the sword.
 Both potions are potions of healing, granting the imbiber the equivalent of Lew’s most powerful miracle.
You ask Lonic for a moment to step outside and discuss your options.  He hesitates but agrees.  As you exit the shop, a young lad of perhaps 10 winters dashes up to Quintus and shoves a rolled parchment in his hands.  “Delivery”, he whispers, then is off like a shot across the market square.

Quintus unrolls the parchment and it reads:

_Meet me at the “Lusty Whale” at the 8th evening bell.  Ask the barkeep for “The lady in Blue” and he will direct you.  Take care that you are not followed.

~ D_ 

Old One

_(DM's Note: The reaction of the players to the sudden infusion of wealth was one of amazement and borderline disbelief!  They have been so poor for so long that I don't think they know what to do with their sudden good fortune.  I am sure I will find a way to painfully part them from their money soon, however!

They decided to sell the satchel and frying pan to Lonic and keep the remainder, so they netted about 16,000 denarii!)_


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## MavrickWeirdo

*MONEY !!!!*

Step one. divide the money evenly.

Step two. Everybody pay Quintus back what they owe him.

Step three. Quintus get a familiar.

Step four. Shopping Spree... (The city is a great place to improve equiptment, get training, buy supplies, and hire laborors to fix up Fort Scripto.)


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## Old One

*Lela - That Quote is About Right!*



			
				Lela said:
			
		

> *
> 
> If there's one thing I learned while doing the Fight Club stuff, it's that you NEVER do a long post w/o a Word Processor.
> 
> NEVER.
> 
> You see, as per Merphy's law, the only time the boards go wacky is when you need to make a long post and don't use Word.
> 
> Mabey it's Microsoft, trying to make sure you use their product.  Mabey it's the Table playing a trick on the DM.
> My belief, Morris just loves hearing people scream in agony from accross the country:
> 
> Old One: "Aggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!  NOOOOOO!!!"
> 
> Morris: "Was that one ours?"
> 
> Eric: "Let me check the server."  Types for a second, "Yes."
> 
> PKitty: "Yes!!!  That makes three today!"
> 
> Morris: "Time for the Happy Dance!"
> 
> 
> Sceen Deleted by those of us who are sane. *




I think I did say "Aggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!  NOOOOOO!!!"...followed by a few unprintable comments!  Normally, I do everything in Word, then paste over, but my disk with the rest of *Session 12* on it was at my office...it was Sunday AM...I figured "What can go wrong?".

What a pain!

Old One


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## Rel

That look of raw joy on the faces of the player when they get their first real chunk of monetary treasure is priceless.  Almost as priceless as the look they have when you find a way to wheedle them out of the cash later on.

Congratulations to the party on finally getting paid!

Just so I'm clear, Old One, it appears that while you have been giving out only meager amounts of monetary treasure (roughly 10% of normal if I recall), you are giving them approximately the normal DMG values on the magic items.  Do I have that right?  If so, what, if any, effect do you think this will have on the economics of the party as they continue their adventures?


----------



## Old One

*About that money...*



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> *That look of raw joy on the faces of the player when they get their first real chunk of monetary treasure is priceless.  Almost as priceless as the look they have when you find a way to wheedle them out of the cash later on.
> 
> Congratulations to the party on finally getting paid!
> 
> Just so I'm clear, Old One, it appears that while you have been giving out only meager amounts of monetary treasure (roughly 10% of normal if I recall), you are giving them approximately the normal DMG values on the magic items.  Do I have that right?  If so, what, if any, effect do you think this will have on the economics of the party as they continue their adventures? *




Rel -

Thanks for stopping in!  On monetary policy...

The campaign uses a silver standard, but the prices stay the same (in general) as listed in the PHB, so something listed at 10 gp would cost 100 denarii.  Each of the PCs started play with 1,000 denarii (although several had family heirlooms), so they were pretty poor.  

I apply a "market factor" to most goods and services, which takes into account supply, demand and rarity with varies the cost from -50% to +1,000%, depending on circumstances.  Magic items are particularly tricky, since direct conversion is a tad difficult.  Most of the items I use IMC are custom items, so I have a pretty good idea of what price they will fetch.

In this case, Lonic (who deals in Curios) had an interest in several items, but not in others.  There is no "ready market" for magic items...it is more like dealing in "fine art"!

Hope that helps and feel free to query further!

Old One


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## Darklone

*CASH*

Hah, there's nothing like some players who are in a real big shop of magicks from many different countries and they scrape together a few thousand coins and are merely able to buy a few lesser gimmicks... and then they sell something they think is utterly useless and the shopkeeper first wastes two lvl6 scrolls on it to identify then pays them 35K goldcoins... 

Right Dougal?

Too bad they were not shocked when they heard later the merchant sold it for 150K....

QUINTUS: What familiar do you want? Is Rose going to intimidate with a throwing axe soon? Is Sextus finally buying a pipe of the sewers (love that thingy)? Will Brother Lew see the light? Will Rowan be bonding with a blade instead of Maxima?


----------



## Rel

I understood the silver standard.  I was mainly referring to the fact that the party had to "scrape up" the 1,000 denarii (100 gp) to have Lonic ID their items.  And that was just the down payment.

For most parties of this level, the 100 gp for Lonic (or the same amount for Quintus' familiar) would be fairly trivial.  I can appreciate the fact that the party has been kept fairly poor (by normal D&D standards, not the standard for your world).  I think it makes what they find all the more precious.

But when you quoted prices for the items they had Identified by Lonic, the prices seemed closer to the normal D&D standard (I cite the +1 Ring of Protection as a specific example where they are potentially getting the full DMG value for resale - certainly reasonable given the utility of the item).

There is certainly nothing wrong with this.  But do you think it will have a significant impact on the feel of your campaign for the party to go from being veritable paupers to being wildly rich by the previous standards?


----------



## Old One

*But how will the handle it?*



			
				Rel said:
			
		

> *I understood the silver standard.  I was mainly referring to the fact that the party had to "scrape up" the 1,000 denarii (100 gp) to have Lonic ID their items.  And that was just the down payment.
> 
> For most parties of this level, the 100 gp for Lonic (or the same amount for Quintus' familiar) would be fairly trivial.  I can appreciate the fact that the party has been kept fairly poor (by normal D&D standards, not the standard for your world).  I think it makes what they find all the more precious.
> 
> But when you quoted prices for the items they had Identified by Lonic, the prices seemed closer to the normal D&D standard (I cite the +1 Ring of Protection as a specific example where they are potentially getting the full DMG value for resale - certainly reasonable given the utility of the item).
> 
> There is certainly nothing wrong with this.  But do you think it will have a significant impact on the feel of your campaign for the party to go from being veritable paupers to being wildly rich by the previous standards? *




Rel - 

Great insight!  Of course, it _*MAY*_ be part of my evil DM master plan <insert evil DM laugh>!  Will they spend it all on "ale and whores" (apologies to DWARF) like Rosë wants to?  Will Quintus look for a way to buy himself into local politics?  Will Sextus buy his own tavern?  Will Lew donate it all to the Church?  Will Rowan start a home for wayward country girls?  Will the dastardly RBDM allow them to savor great monetary wealth for a few short hours, then take it all away?  Answers to these and other pressing questions lie just over the horizon!

Seriously, I am actually very interested to see what the PCs do with this relatively large windfall.  They have a large number of potential directions to go and although the roughly 5,000 denarii per PC _seems_ like alot, just remember that several of them have a "training backlog" to clear.  Another is in the process of cross-classing, Quintus will summon his familiar, Rowan is researching the "bonding ritual" for his sword and just about everyone wants better arms and/or armor.  Given all that, I foresee a rapid depletion of the bank account, baring additional major hauls.  Plus, they have a _l-o-o-o-n-n-n-g-g-g_ way to go to get anywhere close to the _Swords of Glynden_ in wealth!

I actually think the "step-up" on the wealth ladder will have a postive impact, since it will give the PCs more options...but we shall see!

Old One

BTW - We play again this weekend...I am going to try to get at least the first part of *Session 13* posted before then!


----------



## Galfridus

*Re: Lela - That Quote is About Right!*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *
> 
> I think I did say "Aggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!  NOOOOOO!!!"...followed by a few unprintable comments!  *




That is the sound of ultimate suffering. I last heard that sound when my next-door neighbor lost her thesis. It's not a pretty sound!

I find myself wondering how favorable Lonic's prices were; if the characters had snooped around a bit, could they have received better prices? A good use for Gather Information, I would expect...


----------



## WSmith

Maybe they could use it to refurbish Fortress Scipio. 

I have to say I love the feel that it took them this long to come into some loot and a small amount of magic items. Certainly, this isn't Faerun, and it feels good.  

I keep checking the website to updates.  What happend to the map? I can't seem to find it, or is it still being transfered?


----------



## Old One

*Truly The Sound of Ultimate Suffering...*



			
				Galfridus said:
			
		

> *
> 
> That is the sound of ultimate suffering. I last heard that sound when my next-door neighbor lost her thesis. It's not a pretty sound!
> 
> I find myself wondering how favorable Lonic's prices were; if the characters had snooped around a bit, could they have received better prices? A good use for Gather Information, I would expect... *




Galfridus,

Thanks for stopping by!  Yeah, that really sucked ...

When Abbot Patroclian recommended Lonic's Curio Shop, he failed to mention that the Church gets a 20% kickback on all transactions it refers

Old One

PS - Just kidding guys!


----------



## Old One

*I'm a Slacker!*



			
				WSmith said:
			
		

> *Maybe they could use it to refurbish Fortress Scipio.
> 
> I have to say I love the feel that it took them this long to come into some loot and a small amount of magic items. Certainly, this isn't Faerun, and it feels good.
> 
> I keep checking the website to updates.  What happend to the map? I can't seem to find it, or is it still being transfered? *




WSmith -

Thanks for stopping by!  When do you leave the Left Coast?  Having DM'd in the FR for years, this campaign is *Definitely* not the Realms!  

Unfortunately, I owe O'berton more updates than I can count on fingers and toes!  I have lots of "stuff" - ie, reams of notes, doodles, rough maps and other things - that I have failed to upload to the web folder.  I think he has given up on me !  I actually picked up "Fractal Mapper" over the holidays to supplement the CR2 mappers I have been using.  I have made several attempts at mapping the whole world and each effort gets closer to what I want.

If my life ever becomes less busy (like after I win the Lottery), then I will get off my @$$ and get some additional stuff done!

Old One


----------



## Corey

*Re: CASH*



			
				Darklone said:
			
		

> *Hah, there's nothing like some players who are in a real big shop of magicks...and then they sell something they think is utterly useless.....
> 
> ...QUINTUS: What familiar do you want?  *




The decision to sell the frying pan was tough.  But we decided we needed money-badly.  No regrets, we acted on the info we had.  If later it turns out to have been like Frodo selling off the one ring -what can you do?

Quintus wants a hawk.  We have found eyes in the sky to be a good thing when travelling through Old One's landscapes.  

Regarding the money- I left the last session with 95 denarrii in Quintus' pocket.  He was not displeased with his investment since it got him something VERY valuable. 

Corey
(Quintus)


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

*Re: Interlude*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *[*] He indicates Rowan’s sword is what is known as a “bonded weapon”.  They used to be quite common at the height of Emor’s power, but are now rarely seen (or rarely recognized).  They appear as common weapons, but when their wielders place some of their life energies within the weapon through a special bonding ceremony, then the power of the weapon is revealed.  Some weapons have few powers and some have many.  The longer the weapons stays bonded with the owner and the more essence the owner places within the weapon, the more powerful it can become.  He indicates that the surface power (first power) imbues the wielder with extraordinary jumping ability.  He hesitates to put a price on the sword.*




This looks like something from _Earthdawn_ I don't suppose you once played that as well.


----------



## Broccli_Head

*Re: I'm a Slacker!*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *
> 
> I have made several attempts at mapping the whole world and each effort gets closer to what I want.
> 
> Old One *




Can't wait to see them! BTW, I am impressed that you have not had  major combat in two sessions in the city. How do you reward xp? Would xp for fights be greater? This question comes in the wake of some of my players who attacked a creature in a situation that they could have left peacefully. I thought it was for rp reasons, but one of the players confessed that the ugly metagamer in them had arisen. It was xp reasons. I argued that they still would have received xp for a peaceful solution. They said, "well,not as much."  Any similar dilemmas?


----------



## Darklone

*Re: Truly The Sound of Ultimate Suffering...*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Galfridus,
> 
> Thanks for stopping by!  Yeah, that really sucked ...
> 
> When Abbot Patroclian recommended Lonic's Curio Shop, he failed to mention that the Church gets a 20% kickback on all transactions it refers
> 
> Old One
> 
> PS - Just kidding guys! *




There's not much we wouldn't believe you by now... I am sure you even got notes somewhere which whores get visited by which priest...



			
				Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *
> It was xp reasons. I argued that they still would have received xp for a peaceful solution. They said, "well,not as much."  Any similar dilemmas? *




Uh... Yeah, it's a disease. My players got 2K XPs each for a peaceful encounter with an Old Wyrm, plus 300 Xps for a little fighting on the journey there... Next time they wanted more fights. Can you believe it? 

Quintus has 95 denarii left??? What did he buy, a ring of wizardry??? A seat in the cities council?


----------



## Old One

*Re: Re: CASH*



			
				Corey said:
			
		

> *
> 
> The decision to sell the frying pan was tough.  But we decided we needed money-badly.  No regrets, we acted on the info we had.  If later it turns out to have been like Frodo selling off the one ring -what can you do?
> 
> Quintus wants a hawk.  We have found eyes in the sky to be a good thing when travelling through Old One's landscapes.
> 
> Regarding the money- I left the last session with 95 denarrii in Quintus' pocket.  He was not displeased with his investment since it got him something VERY valuable.
> 
> Corey
> (Quintus) *




If only you knew!

Yes, Quintus got something pretty valuable with his coin!

Old One


----------



## Old One

*No Earthdawn...*



			
				MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> *
> 
> This looks like something from Earthdawn I don't suppose you once played that as well. *




MW -

Long time, no see!  Actually, I have never played Earthdawn.  I have played around with the idea of "bonded weapons" and other items, for several years.  The recent article in _Dragon_ led me to make some slight alterations, but I think they are a great addition to the game!

Thanks for stoppin' in!

Old One


----------



## Old One

*Wait 'til Session 13...*



			
				Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Can't wait to see them! BTW, I am impressed that you have not had  major combat in two sessions in the city. How do you reward xp? Would xp for fights be greater? This question comes in the wake of some of my players who attacked a creature in a situation that they could have left peacefully. I thought it was for rp reasons, but one of the players confessed that the ugly metagamer in them had arisen. It was xp reasons. I argued that they still would have received xp for a peaceful solution. They said, "well,not as much."  Any similar dilemmas? *




Broc -

Great to see you!  I find that non-combat interludes can heighten the tension of combat significantly.  I do award XP for moving the story line (s) forward, for avoiding confrontation and for good role-playing.  I must admit that rewards tend to be slightly higher from combat sessions, but this group has never attacked something that they could have left alone...I think they are too paranoid!

Old One


----------



## Old One

*Moving to Installment #5!*

Greetings All!

Since we have broken through the magical 10-page limit, I have set-up our new home here:

Against the Shadows V - A Faded Glory Story Hour

See everyone there!

Old One

*Mods...feel free to lock this thread up!*


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

*Re: Interlude*



			
				Old One said:
			
		

> *[*] He indicates Rowan’s sword is what is known as a “bonded weapon”.  They used to be quite common at the height of Emor’s power, but are now rarely seen (or rarely recognized).  They appear as common weapons, but when their wielders place some of their life energies within the weapon through a special bonding ceremony, then the power of the weapon is revealed.  Some weapons have few powers and some have many.  The longer the weapons stays bonded with the owner and the more essence the owner places within the weapon, the more powerful it can become.  He indicates that the surface power (first power) imbues the wielder with extraordinary jumping ability.  He hesitates to put a price on the sword.*




This looks like something from _Earthdawn_ I don't suppose you once played that as well.


----------

