# The Scourge of the Ratmen [Scarred Lands] - Updated 1/26



## Amaroq

*The Scourge of the Ratmen* is a campaign started in February 2002, set in the Scarred Lands.

If you prefer to skip tales of low-level adventuring, you might enjoy the Prelude on the first page, and could then skip to Issue #7 on Page 4, where some of the more world-spanning plots begin to heat up.

For those interested, the *Scourge of the Ratmen* home page is located at http://www.ave6.net/joshwitz/dnd/. That site includes a link to the running description of the adventure, if you have to bring yourself up to date, but please bear in mind that what is published here will be much more polished, since that comprises a running log compiled, sometimes by different authors, usually by one, during the course of the adventures.

*Warning: Spoilers ahead* - our DM has used some published works for the Scarred Lands, adding many of his own modifications. He's also run a few conversions from old Dragon articles or 1st- and 2nd- edition modules. If you prefer not to be exposed to such published works, keeping your gamer-knowledge "pristine" for future games, you might consider avoidance.

Enjoy, everybody!


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## Amaroq

*Prelude: The Caravan*

11th of March, 2002​
*Prelude

The Caravan*​
The caravan rolled west across the great plain, unaware that it was being watched.

Ten heavy wagons, laden with goods, each pulled by four oxen, moved very slowly, and they were several days from assistance, either ahead or behind.



_“Please, may I go?” the young acolyte asked.  

The high priestess of Madriel looked down at her acolyte with amusement. The acolyte was a young woman, tall and slender, with short red hair and a pretty face. Her cheeks were slightly narrower than a pureblood human’s might have been, and her ears made the vaguest hint of a point, which had been the first thing that had suggested her half-elven background to the high priestess. She had known the acolyte since she was six, and could easily read the excitement and hope written plainly on the younger woman’s face.

“Imagine! A convention of healers such as has not been gathered in one place since the Titan’s War!  I could learn so much! And surely the goddess means me to learn.” The acolyte watched the older woman’s face, to see which of her arguments might provide the key.

“If I’m to serve Madriel,” she pleaded, “Surely I must someday venture beyond the safe walls of this city. There is so much else to see and experience, so much that I might learn.”

The older woman sighed. “Very well, Miriel,” she said, and the young woman’s face lit up with joy . “You did show great promise in the healing arts during the Slimy Doom outbreak. There is a caravan leaving the day after tomorrow. You will have a place on it. Truth be told, I wish I could go myself, but my duty binds me here.”_



The caravan rolled west across the grass, dry now in the late-summer heat, unaware that it was being watched.

Hidden in the low hills to the south was a small humanoid with beady black eyes. It walked upright, covered in mottled fur of a sickly, dark grey. Its face had a long muzzle, like a rat’s, and its ears and tail would have furthered that comparison, if anyone had observed it.

It held a small bow in its rat-like hand, sized to its four-foot tall frame, and concealed itself in the vegetation as the caravan passed two miles away.



_The head of the Vigil turned from his window, where he had contemplated the setting sun.

He turned to face the man across from him. The man moved with the dangerous grace of an expert swordsman, and his face was tanned with the sun. He was in his mid-thirties, at the height of his powers, and was one of the best of the Vigilant. They had been friends and sword-mates, once.

“Steve,” he said, “I don’t know what that force is meant for. The Disease tribes have never come this far north, into Vesh, before. We must find out what they think they’re doing.”

Steve nodded.

“There is a caravan leaving tomorrow morning. Take your apprentice, what’s his name, Charles?”

“Yes. Chuck.”

“Take him, and ride west with that caravan. Protect them, if need be. When you are past this force, this army, double back and trail them. Find out what they are up to. Send word if you think you can determine their goal.”

“How much can I tell him?”

“Not everything. No more than I can tell you everything. For now, tell him that you are guarding the caravan, and hint that we’ve head rumors of ratmen in the area. You can let him know the rest later, if he needs to.”_



The hidden ratman counted the defenders, three mounted on horseback, six footmen walking. Doubtless the wagon masters would carry bows, and some of the wagons might have passengers. It kept a careful count of those it could see.

When the caravan was beyond its position, the scout slipped back into the hills, and ran quickly west, paralleling the path of the slow-moving wagons, to tell his captain what he had seen.



_“Do you need a hired sword?”

The caravan master looked over his shoulder in surprise, unaccustomed to hearing those words spoken with a woman’s voice, and shrugged. He finished tying a rope on his wagon, and turned around to look her up and down critically. The woman was tall, and wore a shirt of chain armor, which was rare for a mercenary. Her hair was cropped just above the shoulders, and she had a long sword, sheathed, at her belt, and a shield and bow strapped to her back. She walked like she was used to the burdens. 

“I might,” he allowed. “You know how to use that thing?” He gestured at her sword.

“I might”, she said with a smile. “I spent two years in Laverne’s Company.”

He nodded – the mercenary company had a good reputation. “Why’d you leave?”, he asked.

“I didn’t think our next contract agreed with me,” she said, “So I set out on my own.”

 “You didn’t get in trouble, did you?” he asked.

“No sir,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m not a brawler, if that’s what you mean, and I don’t get drunk.”

“Okay,” he said, “That’s good enough for me. What’s your name?”

“Paks.”

“Listen, Paks. I pay one silver a day, and you won’t get an advance from me tonight: if I did that, half my guards would be too drunk to leave tomorrow. If you cause any trouble on the road, you’re out, no matter how far we are from a city.”

She nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Report here at first light. We’ll be out the gates when they open at dawn.”_



The ratman’s captain was very large for a ratman, though he would have been average build for a human. He was much better muscled than the small scout who stood before him, and his fur was a much lighter shade, more silver than grey.  He wore a large sword, and at his belt there was a map case and a spyglass.  His face had the same rat-like muzzle and beady rat eyes, and he wore his features set in a cruel sneer.

“Only nine warriors?” he demanded. “They surely cannot believe that is enough.”

The scout cowered under his steely gaze. “It is all they had, I swear!”

“And you saw no mage?” asked the shaman, gazing intently at the scout. The shaman’s fur was nearly white. His muzzle was grey underneath, and his eyes moved more slowly than the other two. He held a cane, which he used to walk anywhere, as his tail no longer served enough to balance him.

“None that I saw, Holy One,” the scout assured him. 

“Good,” the shaman said, and turned to the captain. “The titans favor our boldness,” he said.



_The seedy tavern near the port slums was the perfect place for a half-orc, too dark for people to recognize his features as anything more than ugly, the innkeeper too desperate for his coin to throw him out even if he realized his bastard breeding. Every town had a tavern like this, and the half-orc was well-used to them.

“Moor,” the half-orc said emphatically, slapping his hand against the bar.

“To Moor?” asked the man sitting with him at the bar, disbelievingly. “You don’t want to go there.”

“Whyzzat?” he slurred with a drunken voice. In the dark tavern, his drinking companion could not see that his eyes remained sharp and alert.

“Ratmen!” pronounced his companion, as though it were a profound insight.

“Whaddya mean?” he asked, molding his features in the dumb-half-orc look he found he adopted too often.

“The ratmen,” he was told. “They’ve come outta the swamp, and they’re all over, outside Moor.”

The half-orc looked unimpressed. “They’re little,” he said.

“A normal one, by itself, yeah, any man worth his liquor can take it in a fight. But these are bigger, and more organized. Supposedly, they’re going around in big packs, almost an army! They’re tricky buggers, too,” his companion concluded this by finishing his ale. “I hate ’em,” he said.

When he turned, the stool next to him was empty.

“Stone?” he asked. “Where’d you go?” He checked under the bar, but there was nobody passed out, yet. The half-orc was gone.

He didn’t notice as the door to the seedy inn swung closed on the night.
_ 


The hills made a small finger out into the plain, and there was a low pass through them.  The caravan made directly for the path, and the captain, watching now through a spyglass, smiled to himself when he was sure of its course.

He put the spyglass at his side, and gave the order to break camp.

Within minutes, there was little sign that the clearing had just been occupied by a hundred bipedal ratmen.

The doomed caravan trundled slowly towards the setting sun, yet unknowing of its fate.



_The elf stood as still as a statue, staring with a look which might have been wistfulness across the great golden-brown plain, as though, if he looked this way long enough, he could see through the mountains which adorned the horizon, to see the great trees of the elven forest beyond.

He stood in a small grove of beech trees, and the slight breeze from the plains ruffled his long dark hair.  Like all elves, he was slight of build, just under five feet tall.  His clothes were handmade, of a course fiber, and travel-worn.  His ears had the distinctive point of a true elf, and his eyes were deep pools of dark purple.  Were any human here to describe them, they might have described his eyes as beautiful yet ageless and inscrutable, but he had the grove to himself.

The human city, behind him, was becoming audible as the day lightened, and when the sun poked its head over the distant mountain, he turned to go down towards it.  Perhaps the caravan would leave today, and he could finish his journey home._



The caravan rolled west into the low hills as the day became twilight, unaware that they were being watched, unsuspecting that the gods themselves watched carefully, unaware that five of the people were marked by the gods for the parts they would play in an epic battle.



The caravan reached the spring shortly before dark. With practiced ease, the caravan master and his people set up camp. The wagons made a ring around a large campfire, with the oxen and horses staked outside the ring.  Dinner was a quiet affair, as almost everyone was tired from the long journey.  A few hardy souls stayed awake after dinner, playing music and talking near the fire, but within a few hours, everyone had retired to the wagons save the two sentries.

It was a dark night, without the benefit of moonlight, and the two sentries stood outside the ring of wagons.  One of the oxen snorted, but the night was quiet.

A blade drew itself across one of the sentry’s throats. His blood glistened, appearing as a black stain spreading to his jerkin. His companion turned to him, and saw. He took a deep breath to scream, but never exhaled, as a strong rat-like grey hand covered his mouth, and the blood-stained knife did its work again.



Chuck’s eyes opened, and his hand flew to his dagger before he recognized the face in front of his.

“Chuck,” Steve whispered, “Wake up. Something’s wrong.”

Chuck sat up with a sullen look on his face. His brown hair was tousled from sleep, and his green eyes were not yet fully awake.  He was sleeping in light leather armor, and as he stood out of the blankets, he reached for his bow.  The older man held out his belt, with the sheaths for his two swords, and Chuck silently girthed it.

When he was ready, Steve drew his long sword and stepped out of the wagon, with Chuck right behind him, bow ready with an arrow knocked.  There was no sign of the sentries, and the fire had burned down more than the sentries ought to have let it.

As they stepped towards the fire, an ululating battle cry pierced the night, and suddenly the darkness seemed filled with ratmen, streaming down out of the hills at the wagons. Some rode on the backs of great rats, like horses, while most ran more quickly than a man. Their weapons and outfits were mismatched, ad-hoc.  Arrows began to rain down out of the darkness. Chuck fired back in reply, killing several before the ratmen reached them, and he drew his two swords to fight side-by-side with Steve.

The caravan master stood up through the back curtain of his wagon, clutching his sleep robe about himself.  He shouted orders to the guards and to his people, but he was quickly cut off.  A sword slashed across his chest as one of the horserat riders rode past, and he tumbled from the wagon to stain the dry ground with his life’s blood. Many of his people died similar deaths in the first onslaught.

In the guard’s wagon, two of the guards were very lucky, as they had just finished donning their armor to relieve the sentries when the battle cries rang out. The woman, slightly taller than her companion, grabbed a sword and shield from the rack, and her companion followed suit. 

The tall woman stepped to the back of the wagon, and drew aside the curtains. As she did, a sword slashed at her, but she took it on the shield. She leapt from the wagon to bear her opponent to the ground, leaving space for her companion behind her. The rat-creature’s neck broke, and she stood to guard her friend’s back as he stood watch over hers. A quick glimpse of the chaotic scene revealed a small band gathering in the middle, fighting back to back, and they fought their way over to join them.

The two Vigilants were fighting furiously in the center of the melee. Chuck was in danger of being overcome, but Steve’s blades whirled in a deadly barrier at his side, and any ratman that thought to take advantage of the younger fighter met a quick end.  One one flank, a tall human fighter, a man in chain mail, with a plaid tartan wielding a great sword with two hands was very much distinguishing himself, while the captain of the caravan guards fought on the other side, trying to protect the two survivors of his group as they fought there way in towards the defenders.

One of the wagons caught on fire, further illuminating the ghastly scene. Perhaps two thirds of the caravan folk were dead, wagoners, passengers, and guards alike. The dark grey ratmen flowed in a rapidly moving circle around the survivors, rarely offering to cross swords, but constantly looking for an opening.

Across the ring of ratmen, Chuck spotted a young woman pinned against a wagon by a spear. The ratman who had stabbed her held a cutlass raised above her, and was about to administer the coup de grace. Chuck rushed into the ratman, shouldering one to the ground and charging down her attacker, lopping off its head in a sudden fury. The woman looked at him with grateful eyes. He pulled the spear from her side, and she gasped and went white with pain. 

He could spare no further thought for her, as the ratmen were upon him, and he let go of the spear and stepped between them and her with his swords at the ready. Behind him, she resolutely picked up the spear to help him as best as she was able. 

At the opposite side of the wagon circle from Chuck, the silver-furred ratman captain stepped from the shadows, flanked by eight ratmen close to his side. Each of the eight were close to the captain’s size, of a light grey, darker in shade than the captain’s fur, but lighter than the common ratman.  Steve saw them coming. “C’mon,” he yelled, “We’ve got to run for it!”

With Steve and the guard-captain leading the way, the others broke through the circle of ratmen towards the gap between the wagon Chuck was trapped against, and the burning wagon to the right. Chuck and the woman he had rescued fought their way through to join the group. The last one to depart was the foreign warrior, his mighty sword providing an excellent rearguard.

A small human shape rolled out from under one of the wagons, tumbling past a surprised ratman. It stood up to the full three-foot height of a halfling, and quickly ducked into the group, nearly a dozen strong, now.

Outside the circle of wagons, they found a monk fighting a desperate struggle with a group of the rat people. It seemed a stalemate, as he was quick and agile, dodging their swords and knives, but unable to get in a telling blow, for as soon as he turned his attention to one, the others were strong on his flanks.  Steve led the refugees charging down on them, scattering ratmen with his wild charge. The monk dropped in with the rest, as they moved quickly towards the south edge of the encampment.

“The horses are gone,” Steve yelled back over his shoulder. “But there’s a small path this way.”  He killed another ratman, in front of him, and the group quickly made their way up the path into the hills.

The narrow path was lined with vegetation, and one of the group, an elf, stepped to the side to let the others pass. He faced back along the path and intoned an incantation in a strange language, gesticulating.  Just before the lead ratman reached him, the vegetation suddenly came alive, grabbing the pursuing ratmen in an unnatural grip. The path was suddenly blocked with writhing plants, rendering it impassable.

“A Druid?” exclaimed the young woman whom Chuck had rescued, with interest and wonder in her voice.

The survivors ran into the darkness of the night.



At first, they escaped southward into the hills, trying to put distance between themselves and the disaster.  The sounds of pursuit were clear, but Steve left Chuck and the guard-captain at the front of the group, and followed along behind, covering their tracks with deft, expert motions.  The pursuers fell ever more distant as the survivors climbed into the hills.

After an hour had passed since the last noise behind them, Steve resumed the lead, and started to circle the group towards the East. The Vigilant had become the leader of the group, with his quick commands and sure voice. The others began to stagger, ever more tired, most unused to the forced pace of the march.  At first light, only the monk and the elf appeared able to go on, and the refugees had become a long column, single-file, and scattered over perhaps a hundred yards.

Steve drew to a halt in a small clearing, lined with small rocks. “I think we’d best rest briefly,” he said, sitting on one of the rocks while the others drew closer.

Gathered in the clearing, there were only twelve remaining, wearily settling themselves onto the ground. Few of them had gathered their packs, and there were too few blankets to make anyone comfortable. Most of the group sat on the ground, glad of any excuse to stop walking.

“Is anybody hurt?” asked the woman whom Chuck had rescued.

“Aye,” the big foreigner answered. “They got me arm.”  

“Let me see,” she said, kneeling beside him to peel his clothing back and examine the wound.

“That was a Disease tribe,” Steve warned, “They oft coat their blades with disease, so be sure to clean the wounds carefully.”

As she worked in silence, the others looked around at each other, taking stock of their companions.

“We should introduce ourselves,” Steve said, in a conversational tone. “My name is Steve, and this is my apprentice, Chuck. I’m a member of the Vigil. We were warned that there were ratmen in the area, and rode with the caravan, while we looked for signs of the ratmen, in case it was attacked.”  Steve was in his mid-thirties, with a wiry frame and a weather-beaten face which nobody would call handsome, especially with the grim resolve chiseled into his features now. He fought with two swords, a long sword in his right hand, and a short sword in his left, and wore a leather jerkin. If he’d once had a bow, he had long since dropped it. He moved on the balls of his feet with quiet lethal grace, but the jerkin he wore was scored with many cuts, indicating how frequently he had narrowly escaped a wound this night – and the blood on some indicated that he had not always escaped.

“I’m Chuck the Younger,” his apprentice said, “son of Chuck the Elder.” He looked to be about eighteen or nineteen, and his face echoed the grim set of his mentor’s. He was about 5’8”, with a similar wiry build, but his movements lacked the confidence of his mentor’s, and he was clearly tired. He had two swords sheathed at his side, and sat on a rock, with both his hands resting on top of his bow.

The woman examining the foreigner placed her hands over his wound and closed her eyes. “Merciful Madriel, please heal this man,” she prayed, and then looked at his arm again. “There,” she said, “That should do.” She had short red hair, and wore a traveler’s cloak distinguished by the painstakingly hand-embroidered pattern of peacock feathers, in shimmering multicolored silk thread.

“Thank you,” the foreigner said, his voice thick with the brogue of the Kelder Steppes. From his accent, and the colorful tartans he wore, they recognized him as a highlander from the hill country north of Vesh. “My name be Fergus McAllister. I would repay you – is this, perhaps, yours?” He pulled out a short spear, decorated with peacock feathers, which had been tucked in his belt.

Her face lit with delight. “Yes, it is!” she exclaimed. “I never thought to see it again. Thank you.” She turned to face the rest of the group. “My name is Miriel, and I am an acolyte of Madriel, goddess of the sun. If any of the rest of you is hurt, please let me know that I might ask Madriel to heal you.”

Fergus took up his great sword, and began cleaning the blood off of its blade.

There was a brief silence.  “I could use Madriel’s healing,” allowed one of the guards, the tall woman. She was a tall woman, well muscled from years of work with the sword. Her face was not that of a classic beauty, but she had warm eyes and a likeable smile. “My name is Paks. I don’t dodge fast enough, I’ve been told.” She wore chain mail, and had a sword in scabbard at her left hip, and carried a shield in her left arm. Miriel flashed a smile at her, and set to work at her wound.

To her right sat the only surviving merchant, a fat man who had been either quick or lucky, to escape the ratmen. “Vangalot was always the month of disasters,” he said with a heavy sigh. The others looked at him, truly a pathetic sight – he had left his wagon dressed only in a sleeping shift, and wore one of the precious blankets wrapped around his shoulder, obviously cold. “My name is Kalil,” he told them. His bare feet were torn and bleeding, from the walk, not from the fight, and this made him Miriel’s next patient. He carried a dagger, and refused any other weapon.

Nobody was really sitting next to the monk, who, as the dawn light revealed his features, had turned out to have the heavy, ugly features of a young half-orc. His face was too wide set, his nose was pugnacious, his chin jutted out a little too far, and his forehead sloped back from his bushy eyebrows. The overall effect made him look unintelligent, to a human eye. He was wearing a robe with a hood, and carries a crossbow and arrows, clearly the only thing he grabbed before stepping out during the attack.

“What about you, half-orc?” called out Steve, eyeing the robe suspiciously, as though he might have stolen them from a more respectable owner.

“My name is Stone,” he said, with a flat, expressionless voice, his eyes meeting the Vigilant’s with steady defiance. “I am dedicated to Hedrada.”  

Hedrada was the god of justice, and Steve’s look changed from suspicion to respect. He gave the young monk a nod. The elf, standing on the opposite side of the circle, gave him a look of undisguised disgust, and turned his back on the group, staring outward at the night.

Across a small gap in the circle, there sat the halfling. He wore leather armor dyed to a dark, almost-black brown. He had a dagger, a small weapon for a man but almost a short sword to the halfling’s frame. His mousy brown hair was disheveled, but his bare feet were strong and uninjured. He gave a sweeping bow which mocked the dignity of a courtier, and he gave a roguish grin. “Renfield Burrfoot, at your service,” he said. “You can call me Rennie.”

To his right was a woman who lacked his panache, looking bedraggled and worn. Her clothes were ripped and torn, but somehow the swords of the enemy had missed her skin. “I’m Callista,” she said, waving Miriel off, “And I don’t need a healer. All I want is a good inn.”

This brought a hearty laugh from the other guard, sitting between her and Paks.  “I’m John,” he said, in a deep voice. “Paks and I used to serve together in the same mercenary company. Who’d’ve thought we’d both hire out to the same caravan two years later!” 

The guard captain was standing watch, outside of the light of the fire, so John continued the introduction, gesturing at him. “That’s the captain of the caravan guards. Name’s Quirrel. He’s a good man.”

Miriel had finished tending the others, and turned to her own wound. Wincing in pain, she was unable to pull her cloak free of the injury. The spear had penetrated solidly through her side, and though she had bandaged it early in the evening to stop the bleeding, the bandage was soaked through with blood now. She tried again, and her face went white with the effort, but she was unable to peel the bandage free.

“Here, let me help,” Paks said, and pushed Miriel to a position lying on her back on the ground. “I’ve cleaned a few wounds in my time.”

“Just get the bandage off,” Miriel told her, “And Madriel will take care of the rest.”

While Paks worked, Chuck called to the elf, “What about you, elf? Who are you?”

The elf turned to regard the rest of party with an inscrutable face. His eyes were dark, and in the night had been easily mistaken for brown, but were now clearly a dark purple. “You wouldn’t understand my name,” he said, “In elven, and it would be far too long for impatient humans, anyways. You may call me ‘Goldpetal,’ that is close enough.” His home stitched clothes looked rough in comparison to those of the rest of the party, but they also looked as warm as anything anyone else wore.

From the ground, Miriel asked him, “Are you a Druid?”

He stared at her with an unreadable look. She winced, as Paks finished freeing the bandage.

“Perhaps,” he told her, after a long pause, and turned away, signaling an end to the conversation by striding off past the guard captain and into the hills.

“We will rest here through the dawn,” Steve said. “But then we must press on. Sleep if you can. We will leave when the light of the sun reaches those trees. Then we must try to work our way North.”



They tried to go north five times that day, and each time Steve or Chuck found ratmen to the North, and the group felt lucky to escape.  They worked their way steadily eastward, through the desolate plain. Every farmstead they came to had been burned and looted, and they could not even spare the time to bury the dead. 

By evening it was clear that the ratmen were hounding and pursuing them, pushing them further and further south, forcing them to flee out of the hills, and through a wood. They were able to grasp brief snatches of sleep a few times during the day, but never for more than an hour before their guardians noted the approach of more ratmen.

That night, they were clearly too fatigued to continue, and were all too ready to try and make a camp and sleep, but Goldpetal warned that there was a larger force coming, only a few hours away. None could see how he knew, but the conviction in his intense purple eyes convinced even the most tired to find strength in their legs.

They fled through the night, rarely stopping for more than a few minutes, starting and jumping at every noise underfoot, until, by morning, none remained alert enough to care if they were caught, let alone leap at an unexpected noise.

They stumbled through the second day, catching brief naps whenever Steve let them rest, but unable to stop. Four more times they turned northward, and each time heard the approach of ratmen, or found a small camp in time to skirt their way around it. Driven ever further south, they came out of the wood and into a grassy area. There were no homesteads here, and the signs of ratmen were fewer and far between, but as soon as they turned north the resistance was stiff. None had packed food, and Steve and Chuck were not able to spare time to hunt. Goldpetal showed them a berry that they could pick and eat safely, but no matter how many one ate, they were never enough to satisfy.

They plodded onward to the southeast, caring little whether they lived or died.



In the early evening, they died.

They had been walking along a streambed, which flowed more south than east, but provided cover in case they were observed. The ratmen were waiting in ambush, and it was never clear whether they had been waiting there for a long time, sure that the refugees would come to them, or if they had been lucky, camped near by and alerted by a sentry. It did not matter.

The first they knew of the ratmen, arrows were landing amongst them. The merchant, Kalil, died in the first volley, unsuspecting, pitching forward on his face with arrow shafts sticking from his back.  

John, the loud, genial guardsman, stumbled to one knee, clutching an arrow in his chest. The others, luckier, dove to the ground to take cover, and so it was that they were on the ground when the first ratmen charged upon them with spear and scimitar.

Paks had leapt to John’s side, using her shield to provide him with cover, and it was quickly filled with arrows. She took some, herself, but staunchly remained with her friend as he tried to struggle to his feet. The ratmen charged upon them, and they appeared doomed to fall, together, on the spears. Suddenly, Stone tumbled, rolling in front of them through the legs of the leading ratman, knocking it to the ground, and grappling with another. His head-butt crushed in its skull, and he came to his feet in a fighting stance to face the next wave. He saved Paks’ life, but her companion died before he made it to his feet. With shield and sword, Paks stood back to back with Stone, and they fought for their lives.

Steve and Chuck, who had been leading, found themselves on the far side of the ratmen, with the swarm between them and their companions. Unable to leave them, they both drew swords and fell in, scything their way through the ratmen. Steve yelled “To me! To me!” He encouraged the survivors to work their way south.

Goldpetal incanted in his foreign tongue, and again the plants at the river’s bank began to entangle the archers still firing upon the refugees. A tall, white ratman, painted with a ritual decoration, with gems and silver woven into his fur, appeared on the opposite bank, and barked a sharp word of command. Goldpetal’s living plants suddenly shriveled and died, and even as he turned to face the shaman, the shaman summoned a flaming sphere, which hurtled towards the elf, burning him badly.

The others had fought their way through to the two Vigilants, and Miriel grabbed Goldpetal’s arm, encouraging him to run. Blinded by the flames and badly wounded, he staggered with her, barely able to outrun the flaming sphere as it pursued him through the streambed before flickering out as abruptly as it had come into existence.

When all the others had made it past them, Steve and Chuck began a fighting retreat, holding off the ratmen. When an opportunity came, they turned and ran.

The others had run through the streambed, but came to an abrupt stop as they found themselves on the edge of a great moor. The vast expanse of swamp spread before them, but there was no other escape – the ratmen were faster, and were on their heels, with outlying runners to help prevent escape along the edge of the marsh.

The stream itself led to a pool of water, almost a lake, but Stone had found a narrow spit of dry land between it and a second pool on the other side, and he shouted for the others to follow him as he plunged along it.

Quirrel, the guard captain, stopped, and said to Steve, “This is as good a place to make a stand as any,” he said.

Steve looked at the ground, just wide enough for two men to fight side by side. “True enough,” he said, and then turned to Chuck. “Go,” he ordered. “We two will fight here, and perhaps buy enough time for you to escape.”

“No!” Chuck tried to refuse to go, but before he could even marshal an argument against, the ratmen were upon them and the time for decision making had passed.

“Protect these others!” Steve yelled over his shoulder, as he slew the ratman foolish enough to lead the charge. “Lead them through the swamp. Watch for quicksand!”

The rest of the group had nearly disappeared into the swamp, but Chuck lingered just a moment longer, firing his bow into the pack of ratmen. The ratmen paused for a moment, and made way as their captain stepped to the fore, his great sword before him, and advanced upon the two defenders, with his eight largest ratmen close behind him. Chuck turned and ran.

He did not see that Steve slew the captain, and that between them he and Quirrel killed six of the large ratmen before the guardsman died. He did not see how the shaman’s spell heated Steve’s longsword until it was too hot to handle, and he was forced to drop it and fight with only his shortsword. Steve fought long, holding the ratmen at bay with just his single sword, giving ground steadily, but eventually he was overwhelmed by numbers, and the ratmen continued their pursuit into the swamp.



Through the night, Chuck led the exhausted survivors to the east, and tried to bring them northward. The ground grew ever treacherous, and the going slower, and he became increasingly frustrated.

Everyone was thoroughly exhausted, and those who could cast spells had used their last reserves. Miriel had healed Goldpetal’s burns, and he was bringing up the rear, listening for sounds of pursuit.

When they came to a dry place, the woman, Callista, said, “We can’t go on. Let’s stop here.”

“I can hear them,” Goldpetal said from the back of the column, “Not far behind us.”

It was nearly dawn.

“Any idea where we are?” asked Stone, of Chuck.

“We must be nearing the ocean by now,” he answered.

“Are we going to be driven into the sea?” asked the halfling, Rennie, the fear in his voice obvious.

“We’ve been making some progress northward,” Chuck said. “I hope to get us out of this swamp.”

“I don’t understand why they are so relentless in their pursuit,” said Paks. “It’s very unlike them.”

“They’re upon us!” yelled Fergus, from the back of the group.

The ratmen were close behind them. The leaders were riding great rats, but behind them strung a whole column of ratmen afoot, running faster than the exhausted humans could hope to.

“There’s a rock ahead!” yelled Chuck. “Circle around it – get your backs to it!”

They broke into a run, each making his best speed. The halfling, Rennie, was too slow, and died, trampled beneath the horserats, before he could reach it.

The rest of them reached the rock, and the irony of their position struck them – they had reached the edge of the moor, and before them stretched a great grassy expanse leading towards low, rolling hills, but they were badly outnumbered and it seemed certain that none would make it further.

“Madriel, bless these, my allies, if it is your will that we prevail,” yelled Miriel, and a brief light shone from the holy symbol she held aloft. Then the ratmen were upon them.  First light presaged the dawn, and illuminated the field in shades of grey and blue. 

Goldpetal was the first to fall – many arrows targeted the elf, and he was pierced several times over before he could reply.

Callista gestured, and a fan of flames burst from her hands, killing half a dozen of the closest ratmen, but this merely drew the attention of the rest, and she was run through with a spear.

Stone fought ferociously with his fists, landing numerous flurries of blows, but he was steadily hit with arrows until eventually, he collapsed, unconscious, swinging his fists until the very last.

The survivors fought on, Paks with sword and shield providing human cover for Chuck, who was firing his bow, steadily running out of arrows. He saw the white-furred shaman emerge from the swamp as he drew his last arrow. He let fly as the shaman began casting a spell, and his shot caught the shaman through the throat, killing him instantly.

The enraged ratmen charged him as he drew his swords, and he and Paks were overrun, pulled to the ground and pummeled senseless.

Fergus and Miriel fought to the last, and the foreign swordsman was majestic. He hewed left and right with his great sword, frequently felling two ratmen with a single blow, and he built a great pile before him. Finally, his sword broke, and he fell, bleeding from a dozen wounds.

Miriel was the last to fall. At the end, she prayed to Madriel to save them all.  As though in response to her words, she saw the first rays of the sun reach her, but then the ratmen overwhelmed her, and she slumped to the earth.  

As the world faded to blackness, her last conscious thought was that she heard the thunder of hooves approaching.


----------



## Ruined

Mmm, more Scarred Lands goodness, and ratmen ta boot!  Excellent!


----------



## Fulcan

*Woo hoo*

I'm glad to see you decided to post this amaroq.  Too bad it's going to take a few posts before my character joins in.  This is going to be great fun.

Be careful, the rest of the story hours and message boards are a huge time sink.

-Fulcan


----------



## Broccli_Head

Really liked the first post!

Curious as to which five survived. Hope you post again soon!


----------



## Fulcan

*bump*

Nobody's going to read this on the third page.

*bump*


----------



## Amaroq

*My favorite part*

That was the backstory the GM gave us. My favorite part of that, actually, was that one of the players took the concept for the start of a campaign he was DM'ing.

Everybody rolls up first-level characters. He sets them out and about in this caravan, and it gets attacked by ogres.

"Ogres? But we're first level! I disbelieve!"
"They're still there. And it hits you for... 14 points of damage."
...

minutes later:
"I can't believe you had us all roll up characters, only to kill them off like that!"
"What kind of campaign is this, anyways?"
"Oh, didn't I mention? ... that was all*subdual* damage. You guys wake up a few days later..."


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #1: The Laughing Ogre*

24th of March, 2002​
*Issue #1*

*The Laughing Ogre*​

_Vangalot is the month of disasters. For the caravan from Lave, disaster struck in the middle of the night. Ratmen poured into the camp, killing most of the caravan and capturing all of the wagons. A few survivors escaped into the night, led by a Vigilant named Steve.

For three nightmare days and nights, the survivors fled, harried ever eastward, towards the ocean, and south, into the dreaded Mourning Marsh. Every time they tried to move north, or west, they were attacked by the ratmen. With each encounter with the ratmen, fewer and fewer of the survivors escaped. Steve was killed at the border of the swamp, buying time for the others with his life.

Finally, finding a spot of dry land, on the border of the swamp, they made a desperate last stand. And, one by one, they fell to the ratman horde. Miriel was the last one standing. At the end, she prayed to her goddess, Madriel, Goddess of the Sun, to save them all.  As though in response to her words, she saw the first rays of the dawn reach her. Then the ratmen overwhelmed her.  As the world faded to blackness, her last conscious thought was that she heard the thunder of hooves approaching._



Miriel awakens to find the light of the sun shining in her face, and a divine female form standing over her.

“Madriel?” she asks.

A woman’s voice laughs, and answers, “No, I’m Verenia. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Where am I?” asks the young half-elven priestess, sitting up in her bed. The linens are white, and feel clean beneath her. The daughter of innkeepers, she recognizes the private rooms of a good inn from their smell and layout.

She takes a closer look at Verenia, and recognizes her as a high priestess of Madriel.

“We’re in the Laughing Ogre Inn,” Verenia tells her. “You were rescued, by the cavalry of a local militia.”

Miriel leans back against the bed. She looks very pale.

“Don’t try to get up yet,” Verenia warns her. “You’ll be weak for a few days yet.  It’s the last week of Vangalot – you’ve been unconscious for several days.”

Miriel is tired, but hunger overcomes sleep on her short list of desires. “Is there breakfast?” she asks.

“I’ll call your host, Fox,” Verenia tells her, but by the time breakfast arrives, Miriel has fallen asleep again.



When next Miriel awakens, she is feeling much better. She is very hungry. It is dark outside.

Paks is sitting in a chair next to her bed. Paks is a tall young woman, well-muscled, with a quiet, earnest demeanor. “How are you feeling?” she inquires.

“Well,” Miriel says. “Better.” She sits up, and Paks helps her arrange some pillows into a back support, so that Miriel can sit up. 

“Did anyone else …?” Miriel’s question trails off, and she looks anxiously at Paks.

“Only six of us survived,” Paks tells her. “You, me, Fergus, Stone, Goldpetal, and Chuck.”

Miriel bows her head, in a silent prayer for the souls of the departed. Paks sits with her in silence.

When the priestess looks up, Paks says, “All six of us were wounded. You can ask Verenia when she comes back – she’s the priestess here – but most of the wounds were infected with several sorts of diseases. Only you and I escaped those poisons, so we were the first to recover.”

When Miriel adds nothing, Paks asks, “Can I get you anything? There’s water next to the bed.”

“No, but I’m very hungry,” Miriel answers.

Paks smiles. “I’ll go get you dinner. Verenia says you should be up and about tomorrow.”


----------



## joshwitz

Great to see our story on Enworld!  Thanks for doing this Amaroq!  I also love the prolog, and the narrative voice you are giving to our game.  I can't wait to read future episodes.


----------



## joshwitz

Actually it was so much worse than this.  You should have heard the whines when the Hill Giant showed up.  Some players were packing up their stuff and getting ready to leave!



			
				Amaroq said:
			
		

> That was the backstory the GM gave us. My favorite part of that, actually, was that one of the players took the concept for the start of a campaign he was DM'ing.
> 
> Everybody rolls up first-level characters. He sets them out and about in this caravan, and it gets attacked by ogres.
> 
> "Ogres? But we're first level! I disbelieve!"
> "They're still there. And it hits you for... 14 points of damage."
> ...
> 
> minutes later:
> "I can't believe you had us all roll up characters, only to kill them off like that!"
> "What kind of campaign is this, anyways?"
> "Oh, didn't I mention? ... that was all*subdual* damage. You guys wake up a few days later..."


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Neat story. And kudos to whoever's playing Paks. He really caught her character quite well. Makes me want to dig out the Sheepfarmer's daughter and reread it.


----------



## Fulcan

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Neat story. And kudos to whoever's playing Paks. He really caught her character quite well. Makes me want to dig out the Sheepfarmer's daughter and reread it.




Wow, maybe this will earn us an extra update this week.  Paks is played by our esteemed author, Amaroq.  The development of Paks has only just begun.


----------



## Broccli_Head

I see that the story is narrarated through a 1st-person POV. Whose POV is it?


----------



## Amaroq

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Neat story. And kudos to whoever's playing Paks. He really caught her character quite well. Makes me want to dig out the Sheepfarmer's daughter and reread it.




Good catch - I'm impressed you caught the reference so quickly! And thank you. As fulcan indicates, that's me. I've had a lot of fun playing this character. I thoroughly recommend Sheepfarmer's Daughter by Elizabeth Moon, and the entire Deed of Paksenarrion series, to anybody who hasn't read it. I had just re-read it when we started the campaign, and used the lead character as my model for Paks in this campaign. Of course, she's grown in a somewhat different direction, given different experiences, but I've really enjoyed exploring her development.

Regarding the first-person P.O.V., the original logs I'm working from follow a third-person-for-singular, first-person-for-plural motif: if more than 50% of the group is together and doing something in concert, it comes out as "we", and I've followed that where possible.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #1: The Laughing Ogre. Episode 2*

The Laughing Ogre Inn is a relaxing place. We are fed well, and the beds are clean and comfortable. It is the last week of Vangalot, the fourth month of summer, and the days are hot and lazy, perfect for resting and recuperating. Even with the healing efforts of the local priest and priestess, it takes several days for our bodies to heal from our injuries, and our spirits to recover from the terrors of our narrow escape.

Goldpetal, the elf, with his leg bound in a splint and two ribs broken, spends most of his days in the Laughing Ogre’s garden, resting under the trees, and watching a hawk circle in the distant skies, or an insect in the trees, or sleeping. He doesn’t speak much, and appears restless, almost like an animal caged by his injuries.

Paks frequently joins him, sleeping in the shade and watching the clouds overhead. She seems to respect Goldpetal’s reticence, and sits with him in companionable silence. She escaped the attack with the least injuries, and no disease, and recovered first.

Chuck is clearly unhappy, perhaps even depressed. He is tormented by the death of his mentor, the late Vigilant Steve, but won’t speak of it to anyone. He occasionally joins Paks in the yard, preferring Paks’ quiet camaraderie to the solicitous concern of others.

Fergus and Stone were, as Steve had warned, infected with disease during the fights. It takes them the longest to heal. They spend most of their time in bed sleeping and recuperating from the illness and their injuries. Fergus is a big highlander, the largest member of the company, from north of the Blood Basin. Stone is a half-orc, but Miriel assures her host that he acquitted himself honorably in the fight at the caravan.

Miriel heals more quickly. When she is well enough to leave the healing confines of the inn, she goes to the temple of Madriel. There, she offers prayers of thanks for our rescue, and spends some time studying with Verenia, the high priestess.

Everyone at the inn is very nice to us, especially Fox Dunharrow, the half-elven innkeeper. The cook, who takes a quick liking to Miriel, is an older woman with a gift for making hearty, savory fare.  Fox’s sons are his assistants, two red-headed teenagers, Randall and Reginald, who help out with the chores, especially the rooms and the stables. They are fascinated with our story, though few enough want to speak of the experience. 

His daughter, Rian, is an eighteen-year-old beauty with waist-length raven hair, a dazzling smile, and a genuine laugh. In the evenings, she waits tables, and demonstrates a dexterous ability to dodge any drunkard who reaches for her, and a sharp wit in rebutting numerous proposals, more ludicrous than offensive. Fox doesn’t intervene, and it appears that this behavior is almost a local game for the many regular customers. 

None of the three children look similar to Fox, lacking the elven face and blonde hair of the innkeeper, and when Miriel asks Fox about it, she learns that all of his “children” are adopted.


----------



## Broccli_Head

Does anyone in your party ever make their saves? 
First the spiders and then nearly devastated by the ghouls...low Con and bad Fort saves all around it looks like.


----------



## Fulcan

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> Does anyone in your party ever make their saves?
> First the spiders and then nearly devastated by the ghouls...low Con and bad Fort saves all around it looks like.




Bad roles.  Lots of bad roles.  We role so bad it's amazing.


----------



## Amaroq

Fulcan said:
			
		

> Bad roles.  Lots of bad roles.  We role so bad it's amazing.




No, no. We've got great roles. Its bad *rolls*. The "Unspeller", indeed!


----------



## Fulcan

Amaroq said:
			
		

> No, no. We've got great roles. Its bad *rolls*. The "Unspeller", indeed!




You know your reputation is bad when your puns get mistaken for spelling mistakes.

*sigh*


----------



## Amaroq

*Thread re-organization*

I've had it mentioned to me from several sources that these are getting fairly long, and I've figured out that the forum "page breaks" every 25 posts, not taking into account the length of the posts. So, I'm going to adopt P-kitty's style, essentially breaking at each major resting point, whether its the start of a new "Issue" or not. I'm actually going to go back and re-post Issues #1 and 2, to match that style.

If you're subscribing in 'mail me every time there's an update' mode, I apologize; I'm about to flood your inbox. But I think it'll be better for new readers later. And who knows, I may experiment with posting a daily "portion of an issue" update instead of a once-a-week dump.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #1, The Laughing Ogre. Episode 3*

The first Corday of the month of Charder, the first day of autumn, is the first day that all six of us are well enough to assemble in the large common room of the inn. We are enjoying yet another tasty meal, with fine ale and a happy company, and are beginning to think about what to do next.

Over the large and well-appointed fireplace, there is an enormous skull, which we guess might be that of an ogre. Next to it is a sign that reads, “Don't Touch.” We can hardly fail to notice it. Each of us occasionally look at Stone and Chuck, to be sure that they aren’t going to touch it. Stone’s half-orc features - wide-set eyes, a flattened nose, and a sloped forehead – suggest that it is unlikely that he can read, and Chuck seems like the type to reach out and touch when he sees a “Wet Paint” sign. Neither of them touches the skull.  

Paks, the only one who had woken up early enough to hear it first-hand, is recounting the story of our rescue. She is a tall woman, with shoulder-length hair, colored between a dark red and a red-tinted brown. She is well-muscled and moves with the precise poise of a swordsman or a dancer. She smiles readily, and her voice is pleasant. She still wears the uniform of a guard of the caravan, mended and patched.

“And then, just as we fell,” she says, leaning forward and putting high drama into her voice, “The militia crested the hill. They’d been searching for a force of ratmen since midnight, and there we were, a quarter mile away.

“Their lieutenant said that, just as he saw us, he heard Miriel yell for Madriel’s aid, and he said, as though in response, the first sunlight of dawn illuminated her. He spurred his troops to action and they rode to our rescue, scattering our pursuers on the points of their lances!

“They think that must be how you broke your leg, Goldpetal, that one of the horses must have trampled you in that initial charge. Anyway, the ratmen scattered and fled into the swamp.  Luckily, the militia had a young priest of Corian with them, and he was able to save the six of us – it was too late for the others.

“They carried us on their horses, up the coast – you were right, Chuck, we were only a few miles from the sea – to the nearest town, Southport, laying us here at the Inn and summoning priests to heal us.”

Fergus says, “Well told!” and raises his glass to a toast. We all join in, and Paks sits, almost blushing at the approbation.

As we are finishing our meal, one of the other patrons, a thick-set man with an unintelligent appearance, walks over to the fireplace and touches the skull. It immediately begins laughing, long and loud. Some of the regular patrons call for Fox, and he comes out from behind the bar.

Amid joking cries of "When will you get that thing fixed!?" and “There’s always someone,” Fox walks to the skull and does something, we can’t quite see what, which stops it.  When he turns around, he smiles at us, and walks over to our table.

“I’m glad to see you’re all feeling better,” he says. “If there’s anything you need, or you have any questions, just ask.” 

“Thank you for taking care of us,” Miriel says. “What can we do to repay you for your hospitality?” 

Fox smiles warmly, and says, “I’m pleased that you asked. There is something – I’ll be happy to get to that later – but right now I'd like to answer any other questions that might help you now that you're back on our feet.”

“Where are we?” asks Chuck. He is a young man, human, perhaps nineteen years of age. His eyes are green, and his hair is brown and seems to be permanently tousled. 

Fox tells us, “This is the Laughing Ogre Inn, just outside the town of Southport. Southport is about a day's travel south of Lave, along the Hornswythe River.  We're not far from the coast.”

Stone holds up his stein, which is empty, and asks, “Can I have another?”

Fox smiles. “Let me go fetch another round of ale,” he says, and turns away.

After bringing a round of beer for the party, he sits down with us, and, after a few minutes of casual conversation, he comes to the point. 

“Back in the day,” he says, “My friends and I used to go adventuring about the countryside, before I settled down to run this inn. I’m too old for that sort of thing, now, but I’ve been hearing a rumor that I’d like checked out by a few strong sword-arms.

“Lately, I’ve been hearing some reports of mysterious lights in a ruined tower, down the coast. You asked how you could repay my hospitality, Miriel? I’d like you to go investigate it.”

“How far is it?” Miriel asks him.

“It’s about six hours to the south, perhaps eighteen to twenty miles,” he says. “There’s a road, so it should be easy travel.”

“What do you know about this tower?” asks Chuck.

“I’ve been there several times to clear out monsters that have wandered in,” he says, “Usually undead, ghouls and the like. It’s been used for storage occasionally, but nobody really lives near it, and its mostly ruined. The locals think its haunted, so its usually deserted. I don’t think anybody has lived there in my lifetime.”

Goldpetal asks, “Are there other dangers?”

“I’d stay clear of the Hag of the marsh,” Fox warns, “Another twenty miles or so to the south. Everyone stays away from her, and even the ratmen seem afraid of her. The people around here leave her alone, even though there are rumors of her chasing children. Any child who misbehaves around here is threatened with her Bag of Death.” He says this last with a smile.

“Why don’t people do something about her?” asks Paks.

“She is useful as a barrier to the ratmen,” Fox says. “They won’t come through her territory, which adjoins the coast, so even when there’s trouble with ratmen elsewhere, we’re usually left alone.” 

We look thoughtfully at each other, and Fox rises to his feet. “You don’t have to answer me immediately,” he says, “You can talk it over.”

After Fox leaves, Miriel turns to the rest of us. “What do you guys think?” she asks. 

Chuck sets his mug down. “I have nowhere better to go,” he says, blackly. 

“I think we owe it to our host, to repay his generosity,” Fergus says.

“I’ve missed the convention I was going to,” Miriel says. “I’d like to get back to Lave, but that could wait a few days.”

“I have nothing else to do,” Paks says, nodding in approval at what the others have said.

“I’ll go,” Stone says. 

Goldpetal is the last to agree. He’s been studying the wood of the table while the rest of us talk, and now he chimes in. “I must continue my journey,” he says, “But that can wait. I would repay our hosts as well.”

“It’s settled, then,” Miriel says. 

“Let’s go,” Stone says, standing up as though to leave immediately.

“Now?” asks Paks, with a quizzical look.

“Let’s go tomorrow,” says Miriel, putting a hand on Stone’s forearm as though to restrain him. 

“If we leave in the morning,” Chuck offers, “We can arrive during daylight.”

We’re all nodding in agreement. Miriel says, “I’ll let Fox know.” Stone sits back down.

While she goes up to find Fox, Chuck mingles with some of the other patrons of the inn, trying to learn more about the tower. He is unable to learn anything more than Fox had already told him.

Miriel informs Fox of our decision, and inquires if there is anything else to know. He tells her nothing more, saying only that he doubts the lights are related to the undead he found there years ago.
.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #1: The Laughing Ogre, Episode 4*

We have finished our meal, and Paks looks at the rest of us. “Let’s have a quick evening bout of sparring,” she says, “To help us loosen our injured muscles and get back in shape, in case we need to fight at the tower.”

“Sure,” Stone says, standing to join her. Chuck also agrees readily, and the whole group gets up to go outside. 

In the courtyard of the inn, it is clear that we are just in time to take advantage of the last light of evening.

Goldpetal takes off the leg splint for the first time, gingerly stretching his leg. “I’m fit enough to take part,” he says judiciously. 

“I’ll watch,” Fergus declines, to Paks’ apparent surprise. Miriel stands with him.

The four participants stretch and limber up, and Paks and Stone both have ritualized, almost stylized sets of movements, called forms, which they use as teaching and practice. They each run through their ritual before the fight, and are each surprised to discover that the other practices a similar ritual. Although the moves of Paks’ long sword and Stone’s fists and feet are very different, they share a quick bond in the discovery, and watch the other’s forms with interest.

When everyone is ready, Chuck and Paks make one team, opposite Goldpetal and Stone, who eye each other dubiously before turning to the fight. Paks wields a long sword and shield, while Chuck uses a long sword / short sword combination. 

The reach of the two swordsmen gives them an advantage over Goldpetal’s scimitar and Stone’s fists, and it is clear that the elf and half-orc do not work comfortably together, while Paks and Chuck do. Goldpetal is still moving slowly, and Paks takes advantage of her longer reach to make him the first one touched out. When Stone is outnumbered, he is quickly dispatched as well, with Chuck getting the touch with his long sword.

We continue to work out sore muscles for a few more minutes, before the fading light makes it too dangerous to continue, and we retire to the inn for an early rest.



The next morning, the first Madraday of Charder, we awake early to begin on our journey.  Fox provisions us with some bread and cheese for our journey, and, shortly after Goldpetal and Miriel complete their dawn rites, we depart the inn.  

We travel on foot. It is a warm, late-summer day, but there is a breeze off the river to our left which makes it a pleasant walk. The road south is good, hard-packed dirt, and is slightly raised above the surrounding terrain. It is clearly man-made rather than natural. 

Near the town, there are some outlying farms and homesteads, but as we move further south of the town, we stop seeing people, and the road becomes less well-maintained. The road runs between the Spiderwood and the Hornswythe River. The woods are to our right, and the river on our left. The road is rarely more than a hundred yards from either, and frequently much less, when the trees work their way near the beaches of the river. Both are very beautiful, and the walk is quite enjoyable. Birds are singing and we occasionally see small woodland creatures along the edge of the woods, and rabbits in the grass between woods and river.

The land rises slightly, relative to the river, as we travel, and eventually the beaches of the river are replaced with some slight cliffs, some as low as ten feet, and others as high as fifty.

We meet no other travelers along the way. We make good time, stopping only for a brief rest and lunch.
.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #1: The Laughing Ogre, Episode 5*

We arrive at the tower shortly after midday. The tower is circular, and stands about fifteen feet high, perhaps thirty to forty feet wide. Its base is made of solid white stones, but it looks like it used to stand almost eighty feet high. It has been knocked over, like a child’s set of blocks, and rubble, of the same white rock, is strewn southwest from the tower. 

It looks like the tower is set on some cliffs over the river’s edge. There is a large wooden door on the northwest arc of the standing portion of the tower, facing us.

We approach the tower cautiously, listening for danger. Some of us hear horses – a whinny and a nicker, not the beat of approaching hooves. 

“Hear that?” asks Stone. Seeing that only Goldpetal and Miriel are nodding, he says, “Horses.”

“Look here,” Chuck points to the ground. “There are cart tracks, hoof prints and foot prints leading towards the tower.”

Miriel nods. “That door looks large enough to drive a cart through,” she says.

As we approach to about a hundred feet of the tower, Chuck calls out “Hey, anyone in there?”

A man wearing a leather jerkin comes to the door. He carries a crossbow, which is loaded but he keeps it pointed at the dirt at his feet. Through the door behind him, we can see a wooden cart, like a farmer would use. 

“Stop right there!” the stranger demands, while we are perhaps fifty feet away from the door.

Stone, looking at his appearance, says, “Hello, Mister Bandit,” as we halt.

“I’m no bandit!” the stranger declares angrily. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” 

“We could ask you the same,” Paks says, resting her hand dangerously on her sword hilt.

Miriel, who is hanging back from the door, begins to cast _detect magic_. 

The stranger sees her gesticulations and raises the crossbow to point it squarely at her heart. “Don't you cast any spells on me!” he says, and she freezes immediately. 

“Witch,” he adds, with venom in his voice.

Chuck smiles disarmingly, and tries to ask the man, “So, what’s going on around here?” 

By this point there is no chance of getting any assistance from the stranger. “Nothing,” he says curtly, hostility still evident in his stance.

“Have you seen any strange lights?” Chuck persists.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There aren’t any lights here!” He glowers about at all of us, the crossbow still aimed at us. “You should leave,” he says. 

Stone begins flexing his hands into fists, clearly ready for a brawl, but before he can do anything, Miriel says, “Okay, we’re going.”

As Miriel, Fergus, and Goldpetal turn to leave, Paks takes Stone by the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go,” she whispers, physically turning him around.

We head back up the road, walking north until we are out of sight of the ruined tower.



Once we’re out of sight, we stop to talk about what to do next. After some discussion, we decide to head back to the tower, out of sight, and watch it. The road is in plain sight, and the beach is too exposed, so we head into the edge of the forest, which is about half a mile from the road. As we go into the forest, we notice that it’s very quiet. We sneak towards the tower along the edge of the forest, about fifty feet in from the edge. 

Walking through the forest, single file, we notice that there are a lot of spider webs, many more than usual. Some of the webs are small, but others are large enough to have caught birds. Looking more carefully, we can see many spiders, some as large as basketballs. 

“I guess this is why they call it the Spiderwood,” Chuck says, jokingly.

Stone hefts his crossbow to his shoulder. “Shall I shoot one?” he asks.

“Don’t,” advises Goldpetal, who is leading the column. “If we leave them alone, they'll leave us alone.”   

We walk on, keeping a close eye on the spiders, and Goldpetal’s lore is correct – the spiders stay away from us. Chuck periodically ventures to the edge of the wood to check our location relative to the tower. 

Around sunset, we reach a point where we can see the back of the tower from the woods and are unlikely to be seen. It’s now getting dark, and although there is a full moon, just beginning to wane, there is also a fog coming in off the water.  

As we sit around, mostly watching the tower, trying to stay under cover, we discuss the situation. Paks suggests, “Is there any way to lure the men out of the tower?”

After a minute’s thought or so, Miriel says, “We could make some lights of our own, to try and draw the men out of the tower.”

“I don’t know,” says Chuck, “Won’t they be suspicious?”

“I don’t think we should,” Fergus says.

“Why don’t we just go inside?” asks Stone. He doesn’t appear to prefer subtlety.

Seeing that Miriel isn’t getting much support for the plan, Paks says, “Let’s wait and watch for a night, to see if we can see the lights for ourselves.” We agree to wait and watch.

We wait, observing the tower through the trees, until midnight, but we don’t see anything. By two in the morning, Chuck and Stone are impatient, and ready to try something else. Over the objections of Fergus, we decide to sneak closer to the tower, to where we can see it pretty clearly. We listen. We don’t hear anything. It’s a quiet night. We all watch the tower. Miriel sees the bandit step out in the doorway and look around. He doesn’t see us, and heads back into the tower. 

We wait a few more hours, but nothing happens. We never see any lights. The fog starts to lift, and dawn is coming. Before it gets light, we walk back to the camp at the edge of the woods.
.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #1: The Laughing Ogre. Episode 6*

Dawn comes on the first Taniday of Charder.  Since we were awake all night, we decide to sleep through the day. We plan to sleep at the edge of the woods, keeping a watch on the tower, and see what happens on the next day. Stone and Fergus McAllister take the first watch and see nothing. Goldpetal and Paks take the second watch. Chuck and Miriel have the third. Nothing much happens. We do occasionally see two figures coming out, walking around, having a smoke, and using the outdoor facilities, but they never stray far from the tower. The day passes. 

At evening, we discuss what to try next.  

Chuck asks, “Should we just attack them?”

“No,” Fergus says. “We shouldn’t attack them. They have squatters’ rights. They were here first.”

“But they’re bandits,” Stone insists. 

“We don’t know that,” Fergus says. “They haven’t done anything that we’ve seen.”

Stone says, “If they attack us when we're just looking around, then we're justified in defending ourselves.”

Chuck agrees with him. “I’m with Stone,” he asserts. The discussion is getting nowhere. 

“What about Miriel’s suggestion,” Paks says, “of making signal lights to draw them out?”

“What did we agree to do?” asks Fergus, ignoring her.

“We agreed to investigate the tower,” Goldpetal says. He has kept an impassive face through the discussion, not taking either side, and concentrating on the interior of the woods, although none of us can see anything of interest there.

“What constitutes investigation?” demands Fergus. “We didn't agree to clear bandits from the tower. Our agreement with Fox was just to investigate the lights.”

Chuck says, “I’d like to clear bandits from the tower.”

“Me too,” says Stone.

Miriel agrees. “I’ll go along to clear the tower.”

Stone adds, “If they're nice guys, I'll say ‘I'm sorry for beatin’ ya up’.” 

Fergus shakes his head, turning away in disgust.

Chuck suggests, “We could sneak up to the top of the tower, climbing the rubble, and see if we can get down from the top. This might let us get a good look at what is going on inside the tower.”

“I don't like the idea of sneaking around,” says Paks with a shake of her head. “I want to try luring them out.”

Fergus agrees with her. “I don’t think we should go sneaking about either, and I won't go in with weapons out.”

It seems as though we’ve reached an impasse, until Chuck says, “Okay. How about this? Stone and I climb the tower, while Paks and Miriel wait, hiding, below.”

Goldpetal says, “I’ll come with you.”

Fergus says, “Fine,” in a bit of a huff. His body language makes it clear that he is frustrated with the decision. “I’ll wait with Paks.”
.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #1: The Laughing Ogre, Episode 7*

The moon is not yet up when we start out. We stop a hundred yards away from the tower, where Paks and Fergus lie down hiding behind some rocks. The remaining four go up to the tower, wending our way through the stones. As we sneak up to the tower, we find that the fallen stones have left a few good-sized openings through which we can see in.  

Through the opening we can see two men dicing on the floor. Light is provided by a small lantern, and we also see a cart, a pile of hay, and two horses. We also see a spiral staircase, built along the wall of the tower. One of the men is the one we met at the door the day before. Apparently, he is having bad luck, as he exclaims “Oh, damn it!”

His partner puts out his hand and says “Pay up, you loser.”

Chuck whispers, “This crack is big enough for me to shoot an arrow through.”

Stone puts his hand on Chuck’s shoulder, and shakes his head. “Wait and watch,” he says.

The bandits are dicing, cursing, swapping gold around. They start talking about our visit, and how suspicious it was. The bandit we met says that some guy named “Skelf” was really mad that they didn't just “waste us immediately.” After a few minutes, we also hear them talk about their job. They think it's pretty cushy, hanging out here in the tower, but they don’t like having to go the marsh to load the boats. 

Miriel whispers, “I think we should inform the others. I’ll go.” Chuck and Stone make eye contact, and Chuck nods, once, in approval. 

Miriel slips quietly away, rejoins Paks and Fergus, and tells them everything that was heard. 

Fergus whispers, “I still think it’s a bad idea to go in. I think we have fulfilled our commission.”

Paks shakes her head. “Smuggling is wrong,” she says, “and if these guys have orders to kill anyone who comes around, then that leaves them as a threat to the general populace.”

Fergus argues, “Our commitment was to investigate the tower, not to go in and kill someone.” Before any resolution is reached, a commotion erupts at the tower. 

The party at the tower is sitting watching, when someone slips on a rock. The two men inside hear, and draw their crossbows, preparing to go outside and check out the noise.  

Stone rushes around to the front door, and draws his knife, while Chuck draws his bow and fires through the crack in the wall. His shot hits and wounds one of the bandits, who calls for reinforcements through the open trap door in the middle of the floor.  Goldpetal runs around the tower toward the door. From afar, Paks, Miriel, and Fergus begin running towards the tower.

Stone meets one of the bandits at the door. Without breaking stride, he swings his right fist, and with a single punch, he knocks the bandit down and unconscious. Chuck fires again, and his arrow hits, just grazing the wounded bandit, who jumps down the trap door. 

Just that quickly, the tower is ours. Stone hoists a bale of hay and uses it to block the trap door. Goldpetal goes to the horses, which are disturbed by the scent of blood and sound very frightened, to calm them. Chuck steps through the door, around the fallen bandit, to check out the wagon. 

The other three reach the tower, and go inside to find out what happened within. They find their three friends, uninjured, standing over the body of the bandit Stone punched. 

Miriel kneels next to the bandit, searching his throat for a pulse with her finger. “He’s dead,” she says, with a shake of her head. Chuck looks in the wagon, but there is nothing there. He loots the corpse, finding 6 gold and 18 silver pieces. He also finds some shabby equipment: a longsword, a dagger, and a crossbow. Chuck takes the cheaply-made dagger. Stone takes off the corpse’s boots. 

Suddenly, three arrows come in from one of the opening in the wall! The first shot narrowly misses Stone, but Goldpetal and Miriel are both hit in the chest.  

As we turn to react to this threat, a huge, muscular half-orc with a bastard sword appears at the front door. He yells a wordless battle cry, and attacks Paks. His first cut with the large sword misses, and Paks drops her bow. In a panicked response, she draws her long sword, but her swing is wild. He knocks the sword from her hand, and it tumbles, skidding into the middle of the room. Paks falls at his feet. 

From another opening, a crossbow is firing. One bolt hits Stone and he falls to the ground, bleeding profusely. Another hits Goldpetal, and it becomes clear that the ruined tower has become a killing ground for us, with the half-orc stopping the door, and all the archers firing from the effective blinds of the ruined tower walls.

Paks begins scrambling backwards, away from the half-orc, drawing her short sword. Fergus draws his sword and steps between her and the burly attacker. Chuck lets loose a shot with his bow. The arrow buries itself in the half-orc’s shoulder, but he fights on, with Chuck’s arrow sticking out of him. Fergus swings his great sword two-handed, but misses. Behind the fighters, Goldpetal picks up Paks’ sword and starts carrying it back to her. Miriel goes over to Stone and lays her hands on him. “Madriel,” she prays, “Heal this man.” The goddess, working through Miriel’s hands, heals the half-orc back into consciousness. 

At the doorway, the half-orc hits Fergus with the bastard sword. The clansman is hurt, but he grits his teeth and stays on his feet. Paks clambers back to her feet and attacks. She gets in a good cut across his chest, but the half-orc just snarls at her.  Chuck misses with his bow. 

The arrow fire continues to pour in. One arrow hits Miriel, who slumps unconscious to the floor. Goldpetal drops Paks’ sword and rushes to Miriel’s side. He staunches the bleeding with a makeshift bandage, stabilizing her. 

At the door, the half-orc hits Chuck, who, with bow drawn instead of sword, can only poorly defend himself. Paks steps around to flank the half-orc, but he has a great advantage in reach, and he wounds her. Paks slashes him in return. Stone stands up, a bit woozy, and looks around; an arrow misses him. Another arrow hits the prone Miriel, catching her in the main artery of her right thigh. Blood spurts from her leg as she begins to bleed to death. A third arrow hits Goldpetal, who collapses unconscious, slumped over Miriel’s body. He is also bleeding, and their blood pools beneath them. 

Just when things look their bleakest, Chuck puts an arrow right through the eye of the half-orc, and the burly warrior collapses in the doorway.  

Stone grabs the wagon, trying to pull it over himself and the unconscious bodies, successfully shielding Goldpetal. Paks runs behind the cover of the wagon, and performs first aid on Goldpetal. She binds his wounds, and he seems much better, no longer bleeding, but still unconscious. 

Chuck steps outside with his bow ready, and Fergus right on his heels. Chuck heads around the near side of the tower, while Fergus runs around the back of the tower, staying out of sight of the bandits. 

Stone shoves Miriel behind the wagon. Paks goes to bandage Miriel, and sees that the wounds are very deep. Paks tries to bind Miriel’s thigh, but she is bleeding profusely, and blood quickly soaks through the bandage and onto her hands. In desperation, Paks prays aloud, “Madriel, save your priestess!” She tries to echo the words she has heard Miriel use. She tries to hold the wound shut with her hand, and under her touch, the bleeding subsides and stops. Miraculously, not only is Miriel stabilized, but she wakes up, blinking and disoriented. 

As Chuck and Fergus meet on the bandits’ side of the tower, Chuck sees three archers running away into the cover of darkness. “They’re getting away,” he says with a sigh. He and Fergus watch the bandits until they are out of sight, and then return to the tower.  

Back inside the tower, Paks turns to Stone. “Thanks for providing cover,” she says, gesturing at the overturned wagon.

“You’re welcome,” he says. He takes another bale of hay and blocks the largest aperture in the wall, where the collapse of the tower had left a large gap between the remaining stones.

By the time Stone has finished, Chuck and Fergus have reached the doorway. Fergus enters the tower. Chuck guards the door, looting the corpse at the door. 

Miriel prays over the fallen elf, and through her hands Madriel heals Goldpetal back to consciousness.

Chuck finds forty pieces of gold, five silver, seven copper, a ring, some dice, and the bastard sword. As Chuck picks up the sword, he sees that it’s very nicely balanced, and a fine weapon. “Paks,” he says. “Check this out.” He offers it to her, hilt-first, and she takes the sword. 

“Oh, very nice,” Paks says, moving it slowly through a few mock blows. It takes her two hands to wield it. She holds the blade out in front of her, lifting it near her eye to check its edge. “That’s quite well made.”

“Keep it,” Chuck tells her.

Miriel suggests, “I think we should go. Most of us are wounded, and I’m too exhausted to heal anybody else if those guys come back.”
.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #1: The Laughing Ogre. Episode 8*

When Miriel suggests leaving, Fergus shakes his head. “We should explore the tower before we go," he says. "I’ll go upstairs and check out the second floor.” 

“Wait, I’ll come with you," Chuck says, "But Stone and I have to go get our packs.” He and Stone go outside to retrieve their packs, which they had both dropped at the start of the fracas. 

When they return, Miriel suggests, “Let’s hook up the team to the wagon,” a plan which Stone and Paks adopt as the two eager explorers head upstairs. Stone flips the wagon over and Paks begins to harness the horses. After they finish, Paks steps outside to stand guard. Stone puts on the boots he took off the first corpse. 

Fergus and Chuck climb to the second floor of the tower. It’s a ruin, open to the sky, which is dark with the night. They can hear the crash of surf against a nearby beach or cliff, and in the light of the stars, they can see that the ocean is just beyond the tower, less than forty yards away. 

Stone rushes after them when he is finished putting on the boots. The three of them search the area briefly, but the only thing of interest is a lantern, set upon a stone block against the ocean side of the tower. 

“Let’s explore the cellar,” Fergus suggests. 

Chuck observes, “There were some guys in the cellar.”

“So? We can take ’em,” Stone says. He picks up the lantern and brings it with him as he starts back downstairs.

When everyone has gathered together downstairs, and Chuck says, “It’s open to the sky. Nothing there.” 

“Just this.” Stone holds up the lantern, which is unlit.

“We’re going to explore the cellar, too,” Chuck tells the rest of the group. Miriel rolls her eyes, but nobody disputes their plan.

Goldpetal steps over to the trap door with a finger to his lips, for silence. He listens at the trap door, but after a moment shakes his head. “I don’t hear anything,” he says. He backs off, with his bow drawn. 

Paks, still wounded from the first fight, says, “I’ll go up to second floor, where I can watch to make sure we aren’t surprised again.”

Chuck, Fergus, and Stone gather around the trapdoor. Goldpetal covers them with his bow, while Miriel crouches out of sight behind the wagon. Stone moves the bale of hay. 



Fergus opens the trap door. Nothing happens. Stone peers over the edge, sees a ladder which goes about 10 feet down. Fergus carefully descends the ladder, and finds himself in a square room, perhaps thirty feet on each side.  He looks around, but he can’t see anything more in the near-darkness. He calls for a torch, which Chuck passes down, while Stone climbs down the ladder. 

With the illumination of the torch, Fergus sees a large rock slab, over nine feet tall and perhaps five feet wide, leaning against the southern wall. Several other rocks are piled against it, holding it upright against the wall. On the eastern wall is a wooden door. Chuck joins them, while Stone listens at the door. “I don’t hear anything,” he whispers.

Chuck tries to study the dirt floor for tracks. “There are tracks,” he says, “But I can’t make much out of them. It’s just a bunch of confused footprints.”

Miriel calls down, “Can we go now?”

Chuck yells back, “We’re just lookin’ at some stuff.” Stone winces, and puts his finger to his lips, reminding us to be silent.

Fergus listens at the rocks, but hears nothing. He shakes his head. He moves to the door, and listens at it. He looks to Stone and whispers, “Do you hear whispering?” Stone nods. Fergus tries to look under the door, but there is no crack. Upstairs, Goldpetal moves over to the trap door to cover the threesome, with his sling drawn. 

The door opens inward, into the room which we are in. Fergus decides to try using some of the rocks blocking the slab to block the door. “Here,” he says. “Help me pick up this rock.”

Stone looks blankly at him, as though he doesn’t understand. Chuck shakes his head. “I’m not opening that,” he says, gesturing with his head towards the ominous stone slab.

Fergus bends his knees, and, with a grunt of exertion and a scraping noise, picks up one of the larger rocks propped against the slab.

Stone’s keen hearing catches, through the door, a voice saying, “They’re movin’ the rocks... good... maybe it’ll get them!” 

“Fellas, don’t move the rocks,” Stone says. He looks at Fergus, who has the big rock braced on his shoulder. “Put down the rock,” Stone insists.

Fergus puts the rock back about where it was and looks quizzically at Stone. 

Stone, speaking to the door, suggests, “Let’s leave, guys.” The door doesn't say anything. 

After a silent half-minute Stone says, “Whadda ya wanna do, MacAllister? The guys on the other side say not to move the rocks.”

Chuck is aiming his bow at the door, and calls out, “How many of you are there?”

“An awful lot!” somebody responds.

Chuck looks at Stone, in amusement. He calls out, “Why don't you come get us, then?”

“Why don't you come in and find out?” one of the bandits retorts. 

Stone says, to Chuck and Fergus, “In the next fifty seconds, I'm leaving. I suggest you guys go first.”

Stone waits for fifty seconds, while Chuck heads to the ladder, keeping his bow ready, and carrying the torch. Fergus stands staring at the door, so Stone heads up the ladder. 

Chuck won’t leave Fergus. “Fergus, come on,” he says. Fergus shakes off his hand, staring fixedly at the door.

Chuck tries again. “Fergus! You can’t beat them by yourself.” When the stalwart clansman still refuses to leave, Chuck pleads, “Miriel won’t be there to heal you.”

“Fine.” Fergus finally agrees. He stares intently at the door for one last moment, as though through force of will alone, he could see through to our enemies on the other side. Then he turns, and they head up the ladder.  

We’re all in the tower now except for Paks, up on the roof. Stone puts the bale of hay back over the trapdoor after Fergus and Chuck come up. Stone starts leading the cart out of the door, calling to Paks, “Paks, come on, let’s go.” 

Everyone starts piling into the wagon. Paks comes down from the tower top, and notices all the weapons lying on the ground of the tower. She tosses all the weapons into the wagon, and then climbs in herself. 

Stone leads the horses with the wagon down the road, while Paks and Chuck cover the tower with their bows. There is no sign of pursuit, and we ride north into the night, towards Southport and the safe confines of the Laughing Ogre Inn.
.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #2: The Tower. Episode 1*

7th of April, 2002​
*Issue #2*​
*The Tower*​
_The six survivors of the doomed caravan were rescued, and cared for in the Laughing Ogre Inn. The innkeeper, Fox Dunharrow, let us stay at the Inn and cared for us, as the priestess Verenia nursed us back to health. As payment for the hospitality of the innkeeper and the priestess, we agreed to go investigate some mysterious lights, seen at a ruined tower between Southport and the Mourning Marsh. 

At the ruined tower, we found a group of bandits. They heard us as we tried to sneak into the tower after midnight one night, and, though we killed several, we were driven off after a pitched battle. Miriel and Goldpetal were knocked unconscious, but have been healed. We killed their lieutenant, a hulking half-orc named Skelf. Forced to retreat, we stole the bandits’ cart and fled into the night._



It is the darkest hour of the night, on the fourth day of Charder. It is Hedraday, the day of judgment. We are moving north along the coast road, heading back towards Southport with the cart, pulled by two old horses. Everyone is exhausted, and all of us were wounded in the fight.

When dawn breaks, it is clear that we are not being pursued. We are well out of sight of the tower, and there is nobody on the road for as far as we can see, either in front or behind.

Miriel, the red-haired priestess of Madriel, takes advantage of the sunlight to bind our wounds. Paks winces at her touch, and Miriel concludes that she has broken at least one rib. The rest of us are all wounded to some degree, after our skirmish at the tower, and Miriel bandages each as best as she can.

Meanwhile, Chuck divides up the gold. He has a slight build, with tousled dark brown hair and green eyes. 

“I don’t want a share,” Fergus tells him. He is a big man, who wears the clan tartan of a highlander and has a two-handed great sword strapped to his back.

“I wasn’t going to insult you by offering,” Chuck responds. 

Chuck passes out nine gold, four silver, and one copper to each of Miriel, Goldpetal the elf, Stone the half-orc, and Paks. Chuck keeps the fifth share for himself. 

Miriel casts _Detect Magic_ on the gold ring which we found, and finds that it is not magical, though it does appear to be gold. 



When we resume our walk, Paks asks Miriel, “How did you come to worship Madriel?”

Miriel tells us, “I pretty much always knew that I wanted to become a priestess of Madriel,” and proceeds to share her story. “I was found,” she says, “by a Ranger wandering the moor near the town of Lave, with my identical twin sister, Liriel. We had no memory of who we were or how we got there. We appeared to be about 6 years old, perhaps half elven. Liriel and I were adopted by an inn keeping couple, Kendra and Clay. They keep the Sleeping Dragon Inn, in Lave. Kendra had been childless for the fifteen years of their marriage. 

“Twins have always been special to Madriel, because she, of course, has a twin sister, Belsameth. A year after they adopted us twins, Kendra had their first child, a daughter. Of course, Madriel is the goddess of fertility as well as goddess of the sun. They took Kendra’s childbirth as a clear sign from Madriel that we twins were special to her, even more so than twins usually are. 

“Liriel and I were sent to study at the school in the great cathedral of Lave. We studied during the mornings and day, and worked at the inn through evenings and holidays. I specialized in healing and religious study, while Liriel was more interested in arms training and diplomacy. We also studied cooking and brewing with Kendra and Clay.” Miriel laughs at a memory. “I was never very proficient at the latter,” she says, still chuckling. “The inn was famous for its beer, so their standards were quite high. 

“Liriel left,” she says wistfully, “Without telling anyone, even me, her sister, where she was going, when we were perhaps sixteen, and I haven’t seen her since. I, however, moved into the student rooms of the cathedral and engaged in even more rigorous study.  At eighteen, I dedicated myself as an Acolyte in Madriel’s order, and the rest, you know.”


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #2: The Tower. Episode 2*

Since the heavily-laden cart with the two aged and dispirited horses moves more slowly than a walking pace, we don’t arrive back in town until mid-morning. The trip is uneventful.

When we reach the outskirts of Southport, we return to the Laughing Ogre Inn. We are greeted by the half-elven innkeeper, Fox, in the courtyard, and he leads us inside.  He looks at our wounds, and asks what happened.  Miriel cautions him that it’s a long story, so he brings us food and drink. We all sit at a long table, and Miriel tells him the story. 

As she is recounting our adventure, a tall woman in a blue robe walks into the inn. She wears two peacock feathers in her long black hair. Some of us recognize her, while others do not. With her is a half-elven woman, about five and a half feet tall, pale, with long dark hair and green eyes, who none of us have seen before. 

Miriel rises from her stool, and drops to her knees before them.

“Get up, my child,” the raven-haired woman says to her.

Fox rises to greet her with a hug and kisses her cheek. “Hello, Verenia, my old friend,” he says. He turns to us, and introduces her to us. “This is Verenia, the high priestess of Southport, who helped to heal you when you were first brought to my care.” He turns to her, and asks, “What brings you here?”

“My sources have told me of your trip to the old keep,” she responds, looking at us. “These sources also tell me that there is even more to discover than what we have already found, and that it would be a very good thing for you to keep investigating.” She appears to know much more about us than we have told anyone so far, though she says nothing specific.

“I agree,” Miriel says immediately, “But may I ask for healing for our company, before we venture out again? We are all wounded, beyond my ability to tend.”

“Of course,” Verenia says kindly, “That is part of why I’m here.” She heals most of the party without batting an eye.  

When she reaches Fergus, he surprises her by saying, “No, thank you milady. I do not want your healing.”

She gives him a long look, but appears to take no offense. She heals Paks last, and healing the young warrior’s broken ribs takes longer than the sword cuts and arrow wounds of the others.

When she has finished the healing, Verenia introduces us to the half-elf with her. “This is Saraya,” she says, “A bard who recently came to the shrine of Madriel. I recommend strongly that you take Saraya with you when you investigate the tower.”

We briefly introduce ourselves, offering our names to the bard, but volunteering little else. Saraya sits with us, between Paks and Miriel.

Verenia is still standing, now at the head of our table. “Again, I encourage you to investigate the tower. It would be a good thing for the town.” She looks from Miriel to Paks to Stone to Chuck. “Ever since you arrived,” she adds, “There have been signs showing that more than one god are now influencing events in the area.”

Goldpetal asks Verenia about the creature or creatures that may be under the tower, but she cannot tell us anything more than that it would be a “good thing” for us to go back and find out more. 

Fox offers to provision us, and store the wagon and stable the horses for us while we're gone. He says he can’t imagine why we would have found anyone at the tower, as there is no one around for miles, so it is very strange. We ask him about the creature under the tower, and he says once or twice he found undead there, but he really doesn’t know for sure. 

Fergus, clearly remembering our differences about what our mission was the previous night, asks Verenia, “Just to clarify, should we investigate the tower, the smugglers, or the other unspecified strange occurrences in the area?”

She gives him a long look before she answers, and her words are mysterious. “Fate hangs on you to investigate the strange occurrences around the town. You are clearly destined to have important things happen around us.”

“What do you mean?” he asks her directly, but she shakes her head. 

“That is all I can say,” she says. “I will offer you each my blessing, in the name of Madriel.” She gestures before us, looking at each in turn.

When she looks at Paks, she gets a strange look on her face. “Though you do not need it,” she says, “You already carry the blessing of Madriel.” 

She turns last to Miriel. “To you, Miriel, I extend my invitation to the shrine of Madriel. You can always come to me if you need help.” She adds one last cryptic comment saying, “It may not be your fate to be the scholar you had intended to be.”

She turns, and strides out the door, leaving the table sitting in a bemused silence.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #2: The Tower. Episode 3*

After Verenia leaves, we turn our minds to finishing the substantial and tasty lunch supplied by Fox. Paks asks him to look after the cart and horses, and Miriel asks to leave her gold with him for safekeeping. 

As we finish lunch, a tall, thin young man, perhaps sixteen years old with short blonde hair enters the inn. He looks around the common room, spots us, and approaches our table.

“I am the messenger of Grilliam,” he announces, “Head priest of Hedrada, who requests that you come to visit him at our earliest convenience.”

“Of course,” Stone says, rising to his feet as the messenger turns to leave. Miriel gets up immediately, and they are followed quickly by the others.

As we walk through Southport, which turns out to be quite large, Chuck asks Fergus, “Why did you refuse healing?”

“I did nothing for her,” Fergus answers, “So I take nothing from her.” 
We pass through the large market square, past which the town slopes down to a large wharf. On the west side of the market square is a large white stone building, in a classical style, with four square columns, topped by a giant set of scales. This is the shrine of Hedrada, an imposing building which is as much fortress as temple. 

As we enter the shrine, one of Hedrada’s priests greets us. “Welcome, travelers!” he says to us with a cheery smile. “I am the Greeter of Hedrada, in the temple of Hedrada, god of Justice! Let us pray to the great Hedrada for guidance!” 

He bows his head in prayer, and Stone joins him. The rest of us also bow our heads in a semblance of prayer, though only Miriel and Paks can be seen moving their lips.

After praying, the Greeter leads us through the temple to another priest. As we pass, we see that, as it is Hedraday, there is a trial taking place. We see Grilliam, the head priest, presiding over the trial. He is apparently chief justice as well as head priest. The Greeter of Hedrada leaves us with another priest, who begins telling us all about the temple, in more detail than many of us might ever have wanted. Only Stone seems interested.

Chuck whispers to Paks, “Who is this guy, the Tour Guide of Hedrada?” eliciting a soft chuckle from the taciturn warrior.  The priest shows us the credos and frescos on the four walls of the temple.

*1. Obey the laws of the land:* On the first wall, there are frescoes of Hedrada giving out the laws. 
*2. Give to each person what they have earned, for good or ill:* The second wall shows frescoes of Hedrada handing out rewards and punishments, which Chuck studies with great interest.
*3. Share the blessing of learning:* The frescoes on the third wall depict Hedrada in his aspect as a teacher. 
*4. Respect the bonds of ownership:* The final wall has frescoes of Hedrada blessing commerce, cities, and architecture.​As the Tour Guide of Hedrada shows us around, we learn that there are many, many, many, many rules of worship for Hedrada. Soon the trial is over, with the accused being sentenced to thirty days in jail for stealing. We are taken to a small office off to the side of the main hall to wait for Grilliam.

Grilliam, Head Priest of Hedrada meets us in his office. Seeing him up close, we realize that what looked like a mallet that he was using while holding court was actually a giant war hammer, much bigger than we had previously noticed. Grilliam himself is a very large man, clearly strong enough to wield that hammer at need. We guess that he is about sixty-five years of age, bald, with a salt-and-pepper beard. We recall from Fox’s stories that, as a younger man, Grilliam traveled the area with Fox, dispensing justice personally on many adventures. 

“Please, sit down,” he says, gesturing at some chairs. “I have sources,” he tells us, “Which have told me of your adventures. It sounds like there are bandits, smugglers, or worse in the tower, which is very strange. I don’t know who they might be, but I’m sure they’re up to no good. Furthermore,” he adds, uplifting one finger before him as though giving a lecture, “Both banditry and smuggling are most definitely illegal in Vesh, so they are also criminals. Speaking as a town elder, I would ask you to go back and investigate the tower. The town cannot spare any members of the garrison, which must stay to protect the town.” 

Paks glances at Fergus, and asks Grilliam, “Should we bring the bandits back for justice?”

Grilliam responds, “Of course. Wrongdoers should be brought to justice, but if they won’t come, you should do whatever you must to stop them. I can deputize you, and pay you as irregulars of the town. I’ll also offer two potions of healing as a bonus, if you accept the commission.”

Fergus looks at him, and asks, “Exactly how much will we be paid?”

Grilliam answers, “I must confirm it with the other elders, but that you could receive about two hundred pieces of gold, for your entire group. I’ll require a full report. Of course, any loot is yours, as long as it does not consist of illegal goods.”

“What about the stone door?” Stone asks.

Grilliam looks confused. “What door?” 

“The stone door,” the half-orc explains, unhelpfully.

“I don’t understand the question,” Grilliam tries.

“Should we open it?”

Grilliam looks at the rest of us for help.

Miriel steps in. “There was a stone door, underneath the tower, blocked with boulders. The smugglers thought there was some sort of beast behind it.”

When Grilliam finally understands, he looks at Stone again. “All I can tell you is that I know, from previous visits, that there is a crypt underneath the tower.” Stone nods.

Chuck asks the next question. “Can we have some manacles to take with us?”

Grilliam rings a bell, and an acolyte steps into the room. “Fetch two sets of manacles,” he tells the acolyte.

Paks whispers, sotto voce to Chuck, “That must be the Gofer of Hedrada.” She blushes a bright pink when Grilliam looks at her, as though expecting a question.

After an embarassing silence, Grilliam stands up and says, “Well, I’m a busy man, and should get back to work.”

Miriel, Paks, and Stone stand up to leave. “Before we go,” Chuck says, “Can you tell us about the crime level in the town?”

Grilliam looks at him quizzically, and says, “Crime in general has been about the same, but there has been an influx of drugs recently.” 

“What sorts of drugs,” asks Goldpetal. “Plants? Powders? Potions?”

Grilliam looks surprised, and asks, “You've never heard of ‘blackwind’? It’s made from plants found in the Mourning Marsh.” 

The acolyte returns, carrying two solid sets of iron manacles. He offers them to Chuck, and the young man looks the over with eyes bright. “Thank you,” he says, nodding to both acolyte and priest. “These are very nice.”

We are all standing to leave, and Stone and Goldpetal have actually made it out the door, when Fergus asks, “Where should we start investigating?”

Grilliam looks like he is about to lose his temper. “The tower, of course!” he explodes impatiently.

Miriel thanks him profusely for the help, while Paks takes Fergus firmly by the shoulders and guides him through the exit.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #2: The Tower. Episode 4*

As we step out into the afternoon sun, Miriel suggests, “Let’s go back to the inn to sleep. We can set out in the morning.”

Goldpetal suggests, “Why don’t we leave this evening, so as to arrive in the morning?”

“I had heard that elves need less sleep than humans,” Miriel says. “But the rest of us have had little or no sleep for two days. Even though we’re fully healed, we could certainly use a good night’s sleep.”

Chuck, Paks, and Fergus all chime in their agreement. 

When we reach the inn, it is still early in the afternoon. “If anybody wants to go shopping,” Miriel suggests, “You should have time. I’m going to rest here.” 

Paks finds Fox, and shows him the bastard sword she captured from the half-orc at the tower. 

Fox hefts the sword, and takes a few practice swings with it. “That’s a mighty fine weapon,” he says. “It’s a little heavy for me, but it should work for somebody your size.”

“Who in town could I ask to appraise it?” she asks.

“Look for a sign with a battle axe painted on it,” he says. “That will be Saylis, the weaponsmith in town.” 

Paks announces to the rest of us that she is heading off to the weaponsmith. Stone and Chuck head out the door with her, but Chuck changes his mind at the door to the inn, and he goes a different direction.

Though the town is a largish one, it does not have many businesses, and Stone and Paks quickly find the weapons shop. As they walk in, they see a large counter dividing the customer area from the work area; only three customers can fit in the shop at any one time. All over the walls and shelves are weapons; it seems that practically any weapon you might could be found here. 

From the work area at the back of the shop, out comes a burly female dwarf. “I am Saylis,” she declares. “What can I do for you?”

Paks says, “Fox referred me to you, to identify this sword, which I found in the ruined tower, and tell me what there is to know about it.” As soon as Paks holds up the sword, while she is still explaining, Saylis grabs it, inspecting it closely. 

“See this mark here?” she exclaims, “This indicates that the sword was made in Mithril itself, by the smiths of Corian. This is one of the best swords I have ever seen!”  After a little thought, she adds, “I'd give you, say, a hundred and seventy gold pieces for it.” 

Paks asks, “Might the sword be cursed?”

Saylis shrugs her shoulders. “There's no telling,” she says. “I’m no mage, to detect magic and all.” She looks disappointed when Paks shakes her head and seems almost reluctant to give the sword back, but does so.

Stone asks for light crossbow bolts and buys a pack of ten. He and Paks head back to the inn. 

Meanwhile, Chuck goes out to the shop of the trader Krinsa. He buys a few torches from her, and shows her the gold ring, asking how much it is worth. She points out that she’s not a jeweler, but she’ll look at it.  She bites it, and says she thinks it could be melted down to make ten gold pieces. 

Back at the inn, Miriel asks Fox for provisions for the trip. He cheerfully provides two days’ worth, in case we should spend the night again.

When Paks returns to the inn, she asks Miriel to cast _detect magic_ on the sword. Miriel does so, but she shakes her head. “It’s not magical,” she concludes. 

We have all gathered at the inn by sundown. Everyone gets a good dinner, and Stone, for some reason, buys some cheese from Fox. When we are finished, and ready to retire to our rooms, Goldpetal tells us, “I must leave the town for a little while. I will meet you here in the morning.” The rest of us accept this without comment, and retire to enjoy a good night’s sleep at the inn.

Goldpetal walks for about half an hour, up into the hills inland of town, where he finds a small glade. He builds a shrine to his titan, Denev, where he meditates. He prays in the strange, foreign tongue of the druids, which no watcher would understand.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #2: The Tower. Episode 5*

Morning comes on the first Wildday of Charder. We gather in the large common room of the Laughing Ogre Inn for breakfast. Saraya, the bard who Verenia introduced to us, is ready to travel with us. Goldpetal joins us, as promised, about half an hour after dawn.

When we are finished with the morning meal, Paks suggests, “Let’s leave right away.”

Stone, excited, says, “I'll burn the tower to the ground!”

Chuck elbows him, and points out, “Stone won’t burn.”

Stone replies, “People have told me I will eventually be burned.”

There’s no answer to this, and everyone prepares to leave for the tower. 

We head south along the road, intending to approach the tower using the forest for cover. As we walk, we all introduce ourselves to Saraya. 

Goldpetal walks at the front of the group, slightly ahead. He is an elf, small and slight, with long dark hair. His clothes appear to be handmade, and we think he is a druid. He is armed with only a scimitar. He avoids Stone.

Stone is clearly a half-orc, with a pugnacious set to his features, unkempt black hair, black eyes, and an odor which suggests that he has not found it necessary to take advantage of the bathing rooms at the inn since our flight through the swamp. He is fairly young, and carries a crossbow and bolts for it. He has a dagger by his belt. He is a monk in an order of Hedrada.

Next to Stone is Chuck the Younger, son of Chuck the Elder, grandson of Chuck the Eldest, and nephew of Uncle Upp. Chuck is about five foot eight, with green eyes and brown hair. He looks like he’s about nineteen years old. He wears light leather armor and carries two swords, a bow and arrows, and a quantity of silk rope. He's slightly sullen, but seems friendly enough. He mentions that he was helping guard the caravan, as the apprentice to Steve the ranger. 

The tall, slender cleric Miriel has short red hair, and fine features which hint at a half-elven ancestry. She wears a traveler’s cloak distinguished by the painstakingly hand-embroidered pattern of peacock feathers, in shimmering multicolored silk thread, and carries a short spear decorated with peacock feathers. She is a priestess of Madriel.

Fergus McAllister says little about himself. He carries himself a little apart from the party, as though there has been a recent strain on the friendship. He wears a clan tartan, and carries a great sword, which he wields in two hands.

Finally Paks, a tall and burly woman with longish hair, introduces herself. She says she is a mercenary, who was a guard with the caravan. She is quiet, but has a likeable face and her demeanor puts everyone at ease. She wears a chain shirt, and carries a sword and shield.

We’re on the road for about five hours, seeing nothing more than the grassy hills that extend for miles on all sides of us. 



Before we come within sight of the tower, we move into the woods so that we can again circle around behind the tower without being seen. We go single file through the woods, moving slowly, as the trees and webs are very thick here. Chuck and Goldpetal exercise their tracking skills, with Goldpetal looking for wagon tracks into the forest. They see no signs other than our tracks from our previous trip. 

After two hours of hacking through the woods, we see the tower, stopping when we are about even with it. It’s a gray day, and we know the moon will be at about half full tonight, so we decide to wait for dark to approach the tower. We camp just inside the woods, with no fire, where we can see the tower, but they can't see us. It is still several hours until dark. Stone wanders off into the woods, looking for mushrooms or berries, but gets called back, so he lies down to rest. 

An hour goes by.  Nothing happens. It’s about mid-afternoon. Chuck and Goldpetal are continuously watching and listening - Goldpetal looking at the forest, pacing around the camp area, Chuck watching the tower. They see nothing. 

By late afternoon, Paks is asleep, as is Stone. Miriel sits, reading a religious tome, while Fergus reads over her shoulder. 

A piercing scream starts the party to wakefulness. Stone, who was sleeping off a little further into the woods than most of the party, is screaming at the top of his lungs. Two big spiders, nearly as large as he is, are gnawing on the prone half-orc. The spiders are about five feet in diameter overall, with furry bodies about a foot and a half across. Stone looks quite pale, and sweat is standing out on his brow. 

Chuck draws his long sword to attack, and calls out, “Those are huge spiders! Be careful, their bites are poisonous, and there may be a few more of them!”  He steps to Stone’s side to attack the nearest spider. As he swings his sword, the spider lets go of Stone and scurries out of reach, dodging.

Stone takes advantage of the momentary respite to stagger to his feet. He kicks weakly at one of the spiders, but with his strength sapped by the poison, he is unable to injure it. Saraya runs in amongst the spiders, jabbing at the nearer one with her long spear, but she misses, too. The spiders scuttle quickly, and dodge our blows nimbly. 

Goldpetal draws first blood, slashing his scimitar across the body of the further spider. He slices off two of its eight legs, and black ichor oozes from the wound. The spider tries to charge and bite him, but it stumbles, missing its legs, and falls over at his feet. It scrabbles weakly.  

The spider still standing bites Chuck, and he, too, looks weak from the poison. Like Stone, he is quickly turning pale and sweating. Miriel throws her spear at that one, but misses.

Paks gets to her feet. She was not sleeping in her armor, and so, instead of attacking the spiders, she moves to the edge of the woods. She watches the tower to see if anyone comes at the sound of the battle. Fergus moves over to join her, but neither of them sees any disturbance on the road or at the tower. 

Chuck, wounded and poisoned, drops his sword. He backpedals, drawing his bow, and shoots an arrow at the nearer spider, hitting it. A single arrow seems to slow it not at all, but it does distract it while Stone steps between the spiders and punches it. His blow crumples part of its carapace, leaving it injured and barely moving. 

Saraya stabs ineffectually at the further spider, the one on its back, with her spear, while Goldpetal attacks it with his scimitar, also missing. 

The nearer spider tries to run away. Stone and Chuck attack it. Stone’s punch crushes its carapace, flattening it. Spider guts splash all over both of them. 

Paks rushes the fallen spider, and hits it with her longsword, splitting it nearly in half. Both spiders are dead, and a brief quiet comes over the campsite.

Miriel gathers Chuck and Stone, and helps them clean off the spider innards. When they are clean, she tends to their wounds. She calls on Madriel’s healing for each of them. Chuck still looks weakened afterwards, but the half-orc’s injuries are mostly closed. Both still seem weak from the poison in the bites. 

Goldpetal tries some of the herbs he’s carrying on Stone, trying to treat the poison, but they don’t seem to have much effect. He searches the nearby forest for a different herb, which he makes into a potion and a salve for the wounds. He tells them that they should be back up to full strength in a few hours. He seems to know quite a bit about the woodland spiders. 

Fergus and Paks keep a watch on the tower through the afternoon, but nothing seems to be happening. The sun goes down and it begins to get dark. The night is not foggy and the moon is up, so Paks suggests we wait and rest until the moon goes down, a few hours after midnight. Fergus and Goldpetal take the first watch, and everyone not on watch sleeps.  The night is quiet.  Paks and Miriel relieve the first two shortly before midnight. By the time Chuck and Stone wake up, well after midnight, they have regained their strength and stand a watch with Saraya. Our sleep is undisturbed.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #2: The Tower. Episode 6*

A few hours before dawn on the first Charday of Charder, we get up, pack our small camp, and make our way towards the tower. 

As we approach the tower, Goldpetal hears a thud from inside. We look in through the damaged wall, but see nothing. Stone leaves his pack by the ruined wall. We split up into two parties, each one going around the tower in a different direction. Both parties reach the front door without encountering trouble. 

We look in the front door, and see that the bale of hay has been removed from the trap door. There doesn't seem to be anything else in the tower. Goldpetal looks for tracks around the door.  There are some, but he can't tell if they're fresh. 

We light the lantern and go inside. Stone, Paks, Chuck, and Saraya go over to the trap door, while Goldpetal guards the front door. 

Miriel and Fergus go upstairs, to look around at the surrounding area. Miriel sees the woods, the ocean, and the cliff, but Fergus can’t see in the dim light of the stars. Miriel notices something very interesting about the cliff: About 50 feet south of the tower, the cliff doesn’t go straight down to the ocean. She thinks she can see, at the base of the cliff, some sort of beach or landing. Peering into the darkness with her good vision, she sees a ladder, which appears to be tall enough to use to climb up the cliff. It is currently lying down at the bottom, on the beach. She describes what she sees to Fergus.

“How high is the cliff?” he asks.

“It’s only about thirty feet high,” she answers. 

“I’ll go tell the others,” he says.

“I’ll watch here, to make sure we aren’t surprised in the tower again.”

Miriel stays upstairs and watches around us, while Fergus goes back downstairs. He relays what they have found. “I think we should block the trap door with hay again,” he suggests. “Then we leave someone who can see in the dark watching from the top of the tower, while the rest go down the cliff.”

Chuck looks concerned. “Wouldn’t that block our escape?” he asks.

“Okay,” Fergus says. “I’ll stay here and watch the trap door. An enemy would have to come up the ladder one at a time.”

Before any further discussion can take place, Stone staggers inside, carrying a heavy white rock, part of the rubble of the collapsed tower. He sets it down over the trap door, with a booming thud which we can hear echo in the underground chamber below. 

“Well, now they know we’re here,” Paks says, looking at it.

“That should hold,” Stone says.

Chuck shrugs. “Okay.”

Fergus and Goldpetal go up to the top of the tower, and they send Miriel down to join the rest of the group. The rest of the party goes to the cliff. 



At the top of the cliff, Stone takes his rope from his pack. Chuck and Paks lower the half-orc down the face of the cliff. Beneath him, Stone can see that there is a big cove underneath the cliff face, in a crescent shape. 

When his feet reach the sand, he finds himself on a beach in a dark corner of the cove. The cliff, beach, and ocean all meet just beyond him. He looks around. The center of the cove, closest to the tower, is illuminated by two torches, one on either side of a passage heading back into the rock.  The passage appears to head in the general direction of the tower. By the light of the torches, he can see a red-haired woman and four smugglers. They are all facing away from him, looking expectantly down the corridor.  

Stone steps back and signals up at the group on the cliff, making a “five” with his right hand. Under cover of the pounding of the surf, he picks up the ladder and carefully puts it up against the cliff. The bandits are still looking down the corridor and whispering to each other. Stone pulls out his crossbow and points it towards the outlaws while the others climb down. Paks comes down first. She draws her bow, and crouches with her shield between her and the smugglers. Chuck and Saraya follow. Miriel climbs down last.

Paks, Chuck, Stone, and Saraya, the four of us with bows, inch closer to the bandits, while Miriel stays near the foot of the ladder and watches out to sea. With the darkness, and the noise of the surf, we are able to get within about thirty feet of the enemy without alerting them. They appear to be waiting for us to approach from the other side. The four men have swords drawn, but the woman seems to have no weapons. 

On Stone’s signal, we all fire. Stone wings one of the swordsmen with his crossbow. Chuck shoots at a second, and puts an arrow through his back. It looks like a nasty wound. Paks and Saraya both miss, bouncing their shots off the cliff face. 

“Surrender!” calls out Paks. “You’re under arrest!” 

One of the men yells “Never!” 

“Get them!” the woman commands her troops. 

Paks shoots again and hits, killing the bandit already seriously injured by Chuck. The woman gesticulates mysteriously, and speaks a word of power. She throws two glowing orbs at Chuck, and he lurches backwards, wounded by two _Magic Missiles_. Miriel comes up behind everyone and crouches down.

Stone hits his target with a second crossbow bolt, but the wounded outlaw is still standing. With one of his comrades dead and an arrow stuck in his shoulder, the injured one turns, and flees back down the corridor. The other two men follow, leaving the woman alone.

We begin to advance on the woman, all firing our bows. Chuck hits her, but though she grimaces in pain from his shot, she is still ready to fight. Saraya and Paks both hit her, but their shots are merely scratches. Outnumbered, the sorceress turns and runs down the corridor as well, so they are all out of sight. 

Stone runs over to the entrance to the corridor. Peering around the corner, he sees her about fifteen feet down the corridor, which is at least three times that long. She's looking back at Stone, and seems to have persuaded the others to stand and fight. The rest of us run up towards Stone, gathering at the entrance to the corridor. 

The woman begins to gesture and intonate another spell, stepping back to the front of the corridor. Stone swings to punch her, but he can’t stop the spell. She casts _Burning Hands_, and fire jets from her fingertips, fanning out and injuring most of us. Chuck slumps to the floor, unconscious. Stone attacks the mage with a flurry of blows and hits very hard, almost knocking her out. 

Miriel kneels down. “Madriel,” she prays. “Please! Heal Chuck back to consciousness.” The goddess answers her prayer, and Chuck comes awake. He rolls to one knee, with his bow out, and fires at the spell caster. His arrow hits her, and she slumps to the ground. 

With their leader lying, bleeding on the floor, the remaining bandits drop their weapons and raise their hands in the air. “I surrender!” calls the wounded one.

“Come out where we can see you,” Paks commands. Stone keeps his crossbow trained on them as the three smugglers come out with their hands up.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #2: The Tower. Episode 7*

Chuck ties up the prisoners, very skillfully. Paks performs first aid on the woman, who stops bleeding but remains unconscious. Chuck puts manacles and a gag on the woman, and one of the uninjured swordsmen, securing the other two with his rope.

We take the woman and the prisoners out to the ladder up the cliff. Chuck rifles the corpse, and the rest of us search our four captives. The woman has a gold chain with the symbol of Enkili on it, which Paks takes. She also has a key, which Miriel pockets. Paks counts their money, finding ten pieces of gold, and eleven of silver. Stone checks out their boots, but none fit. We also disarm the criminals, taking their four swords and four cheap daggers. Miriel takes the sorceress’ dagger, which seems to be of much better quality. 

Chuck runs up the ladder and waves the torch to summon Goldpetal and Fergus, but those two do not leave their post. Chuck and Stone begin to drag the bound outlaws up the cliff face. The captives complain, especially when they scrape against the rock, but they are securely bound and have no choice in the matter. 

Paks stays on watch, standing in the torch light at the mouth of the passageway. She pitches one of the two torches down the corridor. It lands about eighty feet down, illuminating a passage approximately a hundred feet in length. The corridor is very old, of rough-hewn stone. She sees nothing in the hallway, but there are doors along the right side. The torch lies at the end of the corridor. Miriel waits with her, and the two friends watch the passage while they wait for the rest of the party. 

Chuck and Stone take the prisoners up to the tower. Saraya follows them back up to the tower, as she is wounded. When they reach the tower, they tell Fergus and Goldpetal what they have found. Fergus and Goldpetal begin debating what course of action to undertake.  Stone heads back down the cliff to rejoin Paks and Miriel; when Fergus and Goldpetal do not follow, Stone goes back up and calls out for them, and they give up their argument and join the group below. 

Chuck and Saraya stand guard in the tower.



The five of us below head down the corridor, dimly lit by the flickering torch lying at the end, and the torch outside at the beach. Three doors line the right hand wall at fairly regular intervals, and there is a fourth door at the end of the corridor. They stop at the first door, keeping as silent as possible in case there are any bandits remaining who were not alerted by the previous fight. Paks and Fergus have their swords drawn and ready.

Stone listens at the door, but hears nothing. He shakes his head. Paks and Fergus take position on either side of the door, and Stone pushes it. It resists, until he puts a shoulder into it. The door opens to reveal a smallish room with barrels and foodstuffs and such, about twenty feet square. Paks suggests searching the room, which we do, but see just dry foods, fresh water, and cured meats; enough supplies for a couple of weeks. 

We move on to the next door. Stone listens again, hears nothing again, and opens it. Behind it, we find another twenty foot square room, containing a cot, a little desk, a cheap threadbare rug, and a small chest. 

While Paks and Miriel move into this room, Stone continues along the corridor to listen at the next door. Fergus remains in the doorway, standing guard over us. Paks and Miriel look at the chest, while Goldpetal searches the rest of the room.

Paks tries to pry the chest open with her short sword, but can’t open it. She picks it up and hears glass rattling around in it, so she sets it down again. 

“Hey!” Miriel says, with a sudden inspiration. “What about the key that sorceress was carrying?” She pulls it out of her pouch and uses it on the chest. The key turns, but she gasps in sudden surprise, pulling her hand back. “Ow!”

“What is it?” asks Paks, looking at her in concern.

“There was a trap. A needle. It stuck me in the finger,” Miriel says. 

“Poison?” asks Paks, and Miriel holds out her hand. They both inspect it. There doesn’t appear to be any swelling.

“Luckily, if that’s what it was, it doesn’t seem to be having an effect,” Miriel says. 

There doesn’t seem to be any other way to help, so Paks returns to the chest. The chest swings open easily, now. Inside, the two women find a ledger book, two sheets of parchment, a bag of coins, a silver ring with a rat motif, a carved rat skull, and a great number of vials. 

Paks checks the chest for a false bottom but doesn’t find one. Miriel counts the bottles. There are forty-two, in all: twelve vials of glowing emerald liquid; fifteen vials of black gas; eight vials of viscous amber fluid; five vials of green liquid; and two milky white ones. Neither of them recognizes anything in the vials, and when they show them to Goldpetal, he can’t make anything of them either. “We’d need an apothecary, to identify them,” he says, shaking his head.

We move on to the next room. Stone hasn’t heard anything through the door, so we open it, finding a larger room, almost thirty feet square. It has eight cots. A brief search turns up nothing of value, and we return to the corridor.

We move on to the final door, at the end of the corridor. Stone listens once more and again hears nothing. He opens the door, and we find that it’s the room under the trapdoor in the tower. We have come through the wooden door on the eastern wall. Against the southern wall is propped the large rock slab, over nine feet tall and perhaps five feet wide. A bunch of large rocks are piled against it, holding it upright against the wall. 

Stone gives the signal, a code of knocks, at the trap door.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #2: The Tower. Episode 8*

While the five of us are searching the underground area, Chuck starts interrogating the prisoners. 

He removes the gag from one of the uninjured captives. “Who are you?” he demands aggressively, but the prisoner just glares at him. There is no response.

“Why are you here?” Chuck asks, but the prisoner turns his head away and refuses to answer.

“Look at me!” Chuck demands, using his right hand to force the outlaw to comply. “Who is the woman?” he asks. The bandit spits in his face, and Chuck angrily jams the gag back into his mouth.

“Let me try,” Saraya suggests, laying one hand calmingly on Chuck’s shoulder. 
Shaking his head, Chuck turns the interrogation of the prisoners over to Saraya, stalking away to watch out the front door of the tower.

Saraya leaves the angry bandit, and removes the gag from the mouth of the wounded one. She treats his injuries, removing the arrow from his shoulder, and then starts bandaging him. While she works, she asks, “Why are you here, what are you up to?” There is a trusting curiosity in her soft voice, as though she were talking to a long-time friend. 

He looks at her, and nods to himself, as though deciding that she is worthy of answers in a way which Chuck wasn’t. “That woman, Delonia, she hired us to smuggle these goods,” he tells her. 

“What kind of stuff are you smuggling?” she asks. 

“We go down to the marshes,” he says, “We take some iron and goods and weapons and trade them to a rat man, who gives us chests to bring back. We don’t have any idea what’s in the chests, we just got paid to bring 'em back.” 

Saraya has a pretty face, and she seems to be having more success with her soft singer’s voice than Chuck had. “How long have you been doing this?” she asks. 

“A couple of months,” he says, with a shrug. “The pay’s good.” He turns his most earnest smile on her “You can let us go now,” he assures her.

Saraya has finished bandaging his wounds. She looks around their environs doubtfully. “What can you tell us about this tower?” she asks, as though frightened of it.

“I dunno,” he says. “It’s been here a long time. Let us go!”

“What’s behind the big stone door down there?” she asks. 

“There's a bunch of ghouls back...” One of his fellow prisoners elbows him in the ribs, and he trails off abruptly. When he next speaks, he says with feigned nonchalance, “Oh, that's where our treasure is.” He tries imploring her with his eyes. “If we tell you where the treasure is, will you let us go? We promise we won’t hurt you anymore, if you let us go. We were just getting paid to do a job – whatever she and the boss, that half-orc, said.” 

Saraya asks, “How much longer were you going to work for her?”

“As long as she paid us,” he says.

“Were you supposed to go down to the swamp soon?” she asks.

“No,” he responds, “We just got back from the swamp a couple of weeks ago. We were waiting for someone to pick up the chest.”

“Who picks up the chest?” Saraya asks.

“A guy in a boat picks up the chest and brings another chest of weapons and stuff. We take that chest to the swamp, trade it for another chest, bring the new chest to the tower, give it to the guy in the boat, get another chest from him, take that to the swamp, bring another chest back, give it to the guy in the boat...”

He sounds like he would continue that run-on sentence indefinitely, until she interrupts him. “When does the guy in the boat come?”

“He comes on the new moon,” he tells her, and then asks, “You could let us go now, right?”

Saraya turns away with disgust only half-concealed in her eyes, and says, “Gag them,” in a cold, hard voice, utterly unlike the soft-spoken compassion with which she had spoken to him. Chuck gags the prisoner, and then ties all four of them in a circle. He and Saraya wait for the rest of the party to find them.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #2: The Tower. Episode 9*

Finally, Chuck hears Stone knocking from below the trap door. Chuck pushes the rock away, and opens the trap door, reuniting the party. He comes down, and joins Fergus in searching the room with all the cots. They find nothing. 

Miriel looks around to see who is most injured. Though we were all burned by the sorceress’ spell, during the fight, it looks like she and Saraya are the worst hurt. Miriel prays for healing for both herself and Saraya, and then suggests that we need to rest to regain spell strength. The others set up a watch rotation and rest in the tower. Paks spends a few hours thoroughly searching all of the rooms below, but finds nothing. 

When we are all awake and ready for more adventure, we decide to explore the area where the bandit said that there were ghouls.  Before we go, Chuck checks the bonds of the prisoners again, making sure they are secure. The spell casting woman is still unconscious. The prisoners are napping. 

Paks, Stone, and the rest of the party go down to the room beneath the tower. We are ready to go through the large stone slab. Chuck and Goldpetal stand watch, with bows drawn and ready, with Chuck up in the tower, and Goldpetal at the foot of the ladder. The strongest members of the company, Stone, Fergus, and Paks, remove the rocks piled against the slab blocking the door. 

When the last one is removed, we all draw weapons and make ready while Stone tries to pull the slab off of the door. Paks stands ready to pitch in a torch, but Stone can’t quite shift the slab alone. Paks hands the torch to Goldpetal, and lends her strength to Stone’s efforts. 

The stone slab falls with a resounding crash, which echoes off the hard rock walls of the confined space. A ten foot wide staircase descends into the blackness before us. Goldpetal quickly tosses the torch down into the darkness. 

The torch lands on the floor below. In its flickering light, we can see that the staircase that goes down for twenty feet. Beyond that, it is a hallway, perhaps thirty feet long, with doors along the right and left. One of the doors on the left is broken and hangs slightly ajar. 

Paks steps to the top of the staircase, sword drawn. She descends slowly, and we all follow her. Chuck climbs down to the room beneath the tower, and closes the wooden door to the eastern corridor. He listens from the tower room, leaving a lit torch in the room under the trap door. 

Paks reaches Goldpetal’s torch, and picks it up. She tosses it through the broken door on the left. It weakly illuminates a large mausoleum, perhaps thirty feet wide and fifty feet long. There are four large columns, evenly distributed towards the corners of the room. All around the outside walls, every ten feet or so, she can see crypt-like openings. The room smells old and musty. 

Miriel looks around Paks and through the door; she sees nothing. Stone listens at the other door, but hears nothing. Saraya steps to Paks’ side.

Together, Paks and Saraya step into the first room. As they cross the threshold, four bipedal monsters jump out. They may have been human, once, but are now foul beasts with clawed hands. The smell of death and decay that roils off of them is sickening, and both Paks and Saraya are nauseated, overcome by the stench. 

“Ghouls!” Fergus yells. Quickest to react, he steps between the two women and lays about him with his great-sword. He hits one ghoul and slices it nearly in half, and it falls to the ground, still twitching. With a spectacular follow-through, he steps forward and hits the next, a solid two-handed blow. It, too, falls, returning from undead to wholly dead. 

Miriel pulls out her symbol of Madriel. Holding it high above her head, she steps to the doorway and yells, “In the name of Madriel, be gone, foul beasts!” Though she has read about _turning_ undead creatures, her first attempt to do so has no discernable effect. 

Stone runs past the three ineffective women, to attack the ghoul furthest into the room. It bites him as he runs past. Stone punches it in the head, but a punch which would have stunned a man seems only to have angered it. It attacks him with teeth and claws, scoring him with one talon. Though the wound appears to be only a scratch, the half-orc gives a strangled cry, and stiffens up like a board. He falls to the ground, either dead or paralyzed. 

The second ghoul attacks Paks, leaping over her shield to reach her neck and shoulder. Wounded by its bite and claw, she collapses in the same manner. Saraya staggers back, to vomit at the foot of the stairs. Goldpetal yells something in elvish, and runs into the room slashing at the wounded ghoul with his scimitar. He also wounds it but cannot kill it. 

Fergus pushes Paks out of the way, and she falls back through the door and onto the floor. He swings at the wounded ghoul, but his sword arcs too high, and misses. “Chuck!” he hollers, and Chuck begins running down the stairs to join the fight. 

“Madriel, help us!” Miriel pleads, with her holy symbol before her. This time she manages to _turn_ both undead. They flee in mindless terror, running straight past Fergus and Goldpetal. Goldpetal cuts the wounded one down with his scimitar, and it dies at his feet. Fergus swings wildly at the other, but misses. He hits himself in the leg with his own sword. It’s a big wound, gushing blood, and he falls down. His sword skitters across the floor, coming to rest against the left wall. Fergus lies unconscious and bleeding on the floor. 

With the last ghoul cowering in a corner, Goldpetal and Miriel stop to heal Fergus, as Chuck enters the room.  Goldpetal staunches the bleeding, and Miriel prays to Madriel to heal Fergus back to consciousness. While she does that, Goldpetal checks Paks and Stone, and calls out, “They’re still breathing, just paralyzed.”

Chuck advances into the room after the ghoul, shooting an arrow. His shot misses, but seems to have driven the fear from the ghoul. It turns about to face us, and begins advancing towards us. Goldpetal steps to his right, to sling a bullet at the ghoul. Though he hits, it seems to have little effect, other than to annoy the ghoul further. Fergus, his leg healed, climbs to his feet. Miriel holds her holy symbol aloft, and tries to turn the ghoul again. “Be gone, in the name of Madriel,” she shouts, but again she fails. 

The ghoul lumbers up to Chuck and attacks. It hits with a claw and bites him in the shoulder, and he collapses, unconscious, with two serious bleeding wounds. Goldpetal fumbles with the sling, tripping over some trash on the floor, which causes him to fall and drop the sling. Fergus runs to the left wall, and picks up his sword. The ghoul reaches him before he has the sword ready.

“Madriel’s light!” shouts Miriel. A soft divine light shines from her holy symbol, and the ghoul freezes in the act of attacking Fergus. She manages to _turn_ the ghoul a second time, and it retreats from her to the furthest corner of the room. Goldpetal gets up. “Don’t attack it,” Miriel cautions. “Wait until we are all ready.”

Paks, her paralyzation worn off, gets up and enters the room. Miriel heals Chuck, who stands up, and Stone is also standing up, shrugging off the effects of his paralyzation. Together, we all advance on the ghoul, with swords drawn. The ghoul squeezes as far into the corner as it can get. 

Fergus, in the lead, reaches the ghoul first. He hits it with his sword, and it turns to fight. The ghoul leaps on him, getting inside the reach of his lengthy sword. It bites him in the chest, and knocks him unconscious. As he falls, it rends him with its claws. 

Yelling a battle cry in elvish, Goldpetal swings mightily at the ghoul with his scimitar, cutting its head clean off.  

Fergus is gushing blood. Paks drops to her knees to bandage Fergus, stabilizing him momentarily, though he is still bleeding. “Miriel!” she calls.

“I can’t,” Miriel responds. “I’ve no strength left for a healing.”

“Cradle his head,” Stone tells Paks, pulling out a potion of healing. He holds Fergus’ nose pinched closed with his thumb and forefinger, and pours the potion down Fergus' throat. Fergus’ sputters and coughs as he swallows the potion, but his wounds begin to close as he wakes up.


----------



## Amaroq

*All done, there*

All done, now, with the reorg. Thanks for your patience. And... what better way to offer amends than to begin the first part of the next issue?


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #3: The Spider-Eye Goblins. Episode 1 of 12*

28th of April, 2002​
*Issue #3*

*The Spider-Eye Goblins*​
_On our second trip to the ruined tower, between Southport and the Mourning Marsh, we found more bandits. We have killed or captured all of them, including a female sorceress, Delonia, who is bound, gagged, and unconscious. 

Investigating further, we opened the blocked-off section of the tower, and discovered a crypt with a small group of ghouls. We have destroyed them all, but Fergus was nearly killed, and only a magical potion of healing, administered at the last moment, kept him with us. There is yet another door we have not explored, and we have not unraveled the mysterious lights which prompted us to first visit this place._



It’s about mid-morning on the first Charday of Charder. We’re underneath the tower, in the room where we killed the ghouls. Paks and Stone have been tending to the wounds of Fergus MacAllister. 

After a minute, Fergus staggers to his feet, and says, “Thank you,” to the mercenary and half-orc. He still looks wounded, but the healing potion which Stone gave him has helped a lot. The highlander picks up his great-sword, which had fallen to the filthy floor, and begins cleaning it.

Stone and Paks are both wounded as well, and the priestess, Miriel, quickly binds their wounds in some makeshift bandages, but warns, “Those wounds will need to be thoroughly cleaned: the ghouls may have disease or poison.”  

We quickly look in each crypt and see nothing other than bones and trash and such. As we look around, we notice that what Goldpetal tripped on was not really trash, but actually a mostly-eaten dead smuggler. Chuck searches the truly gruesome dead body and finds six pieces of gold and twenty of silver. 

“Let’s make a more thorough search of the crypt,” Paks suggests. 

“Sounds good to me,” Fergus says, and they set to it.  Stone helps.
Chuck goes upstairs to check on the prisoners – Delonia and her three henchmen, who we had captured the previous night. The three smugglers are still asking to be let go, if he removes their gags, while the sorceress remains asleep. 

Miriel wraps her cloak, with the beautiful peacock embroidery, about her and rests, with Saraya watching over her. Chuck waits upstairs, standing picturesquely in the door of the collapsed tower, with his leather armor. He carries two swords sheathed, one at each hip, and a bow is strapped to his back. He guards our captives, while everyone else searches the crypt. 

We spend about an hour in the crypt making a thorough search.  In the toe of the boot of the dead smuggler, Stone finds a blue gem. Paks finds that one of the bones on the floor is actually a scroll tube. Goldpetal looks for any secret doors, but all of the walls seem solid. There is nothing else of interest.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #3: The Spider Goblins. Episode 2 of 12*

When the search party is ready to concede that there is nothing more to find, and Miriel is rested, Stone calls, “Chuck, come down!”

As Chuck comes back down, Paks asks, “Miriel, can you re-consecrate the crypt?”

“No,” the priestess answers, “I have not progressed that far in my studies.”  After a brief moment, with a regretful look on her face, she suggests, “Shall we open the other door?”

“I’ll stay upstairs and watch the prisoners,” Saraya says, and takes Chuck’s place in the tower.

We all head over to check out the other room, with Stone in the lead and Miriel hanging behind in the first room. Stone attempts to open the door, but it's quite stuck. Goldpetal helps, and despite the elf’s slight stature, his assistance makes the difference. The door opens onto a ten foot wide corridor that goes down about forty feet. 

On the left hand side, spaced five feet apart, there are cells with rusty, broken bars. Goldpetal shoots a sling down the hall and hits the far wall, but nothing else happens. Stone explores the first cell, finding nothing but bones and ancient trash. The cells have clearly not been used for many decades. They are about five feet wide and ten feet deep. In the second cell we see a skeleton. Paks gets an uneasy feeling. Without an explanation, the tall woman draws her sword and readies her shield, facing the skeleton in the second cell, but does not enter. Goldpetal and Fergus continue walking down the hallway, looking through the cell doors. In the third cell, they see nothing of interest, but in the fourth, there is another skeleton.

Stone finishes his exploration, and walks further down the corridor. He sees the skeleton in the fourth cell, and begins walking towards it. Goldpetal steps closer, watching Stone’s back as he steps into the cell. As the half-orc crosses the threshold of the cell, the skeleton stands up and attacks him! It misses, but Stone leaps back towards the main corridor.

Two skeletons come out of the last cell, the sixth door down, and attack Goldpetal, who was standing just to the right of the door of the fourth cell. One of them hits the elf, and Goldpetal staggers. Fergus steps up to Goldpetal’s side, and swings his great sword at one of the skeletons. He hits the one which had wounded Goldpetal, and it shatters beneath his mighty blow. The sword continues through, but misses the other skeleton. Goldpetal draws his scimitar. His first blow misses, and he gives ground a little. 

The skeleton Paks is facing also stands up and comes out to attack. This is exactly what she had been expecting, and she sidesteps its clumsy swing easily. Her first blow with her long sword shatters it.

In the fourth cell, Stone punches his, hitting with both fists, and it explodes into dust. He catches the skull, the only remaining intact bone, before it falls, and tosses it against the wall, where it, too, crumbles to dust.

Chuck draws his bow and knocks an arrow, but waits in the doorway, in case any worse threat appears behind the skeletons. Miriel steps past him, moving down to the base of the stairs to see what's going on. 

The remaining skeleton steps forward, pursuing Goldpetal, and slashes him with one claw. It rends a wound across his chest, and the elf screams, collapsing in a fetal position around the wound. Fergus steps around Goldpetal’s body and swings, but misses. Paks and Stone hurry over to help, but neither can hit.  Paks’ blow is wild, and she almost flings her sword aside. Chuck tries to shoot at it from the doorway, but with his shot obscured by his friends, he aims high, and his arrow flies off into a cell. 

The skeleton swipes at Fergus, and re-opens the horrible wounds he had received at the claws of the ghoul. The highlander slumps to the ground. Paks steps over the bodies of her friends, putting herself between the injured and the skeleton, and misses again. 

Finally, Stone circles around it and gives a powerful kick roundhouse kick, which connects with the ribcage of the skeleton. It flies off of his foot and hits the stone wall behind it, shattering into dust. 

Paks drops to her knees to find both Goldpetal and Fergus unconscious and bleeding. “Miriel!” she calls, “Hurry!” She begins bandaging Goldpetal’s injuries.
Miriel runs across the room and kneels beside Fergus. “Madriel, please heal this man,” she begs, and the wounds begin to close beneath her hands, though Fergus regains consciousness. 

Stone steps to Goldpetal, who appears to be catatonic. He pulls out our last healing potion, and again he and Paks administer the vial to a fallen comrade. The elf wakes up, and his wounds have healed completely. 



Fergus and Goldpetal have a brief rest, and the remainder of us catch our breath.  After a few minutes, Chuck says, “Let’s search the room, then.”

Miriel nods, but she has made numerous healings in the past day, and looks very tired.  She says “It’s a good idea, but I need to rest to regain some of my energy.”  She goes upstairs to rest with Saraya and the prisoners.

The rest of us search all the cells. We find nothing else, but we make sure to smash the bones as we go, lest they become animate behind us.  Finding nothing in the cells, Paks and Goldpetal search all the walls on both sides, knocking on the walls to search for hidden doors, but they find nothing. 
We have explored the entire space, and there seems nothing left to do. We head upstairs.

“Let’s take the smugglers back to town,” Miriel suggests. The prisoners again argue to be let go, but we keep them bound and tied. Stone makes sure that Delonia remains unconscious, not wanting to take any chances with a rogue mage. If she as much as moans, he punches her in the temple, and knocks her out again.

We start to head out along the road, to the north. As we walk, Saraya and Chuck explain the plan that they learned from the smuggler, during Saraya’s interrogation.  The smugglers were trading slaves and weapons for something unknown, in chests, from the ratmen in the swamp. At the moment, they were waiting for a boat, which would bring the next exchange for them, and take their next load. The boat, they said, was due to arrive at the next new moon.

As we head towards town, it starts to rain. The road becomes muddy, and the smugglers are uncooperative, so we get back to town well after dark: cold, tired, hungry, and soaked through. 

We’ve missed dinner.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #3: The Spider-eye Goblins*

As we reach the Laughing Ogre inn, Randall and Reginald, Fox’s adopted sons and assistants, come running out to meet us. These red-headed teenagers, 14 and 15 years old, never miss an opportunity to follow us around, asking questions about our adventures and providing us with a great deal more hero-worship than we deserve. Their older sister Rian, also adopted by Fox, works at the inn as a waitress. 

Fox comes out just after his sons and sends us, with the prisoners, to the stable area, not wanting us to drag them through the bar and inn. Fox sends Reginald for Grilliam, the priest of Hedrada, and Randal for Constable Lamarack. While we wait, Stone and Chuck go into the inn to warm up and get something to eat. 

Paks stays with the prisoners until the constable shows up. Lamarack is a tall, burly man with a big club, and he brings two men at arms. He relieves Paks of her watch, and she also goes into the inn to warm up by the fire and a bowl of warm stew. She is more than happy to slip out of her chain shirt, and into something more comfortable.

Grilliam arrives shortly thereafter, also bringing two assistants. He gathers our party in the inn, and asks for our story.  While Saraya recounts the entire tale, he casually cures us all.  Saraya, a bard, naturally embellishes a bit, leaving out the duller, muddier moments. In all, her tale is more exciting and heroic than the rest of us remember it. Reginald and Randall listen eagerly, and even Fox appears pleased with the tale. 

When the tale is finished, we show him everything we brought back: the parchments, the chest (with vials and ledger), the blue gem, the carved skull, the bag of gold, and the symbol of Enkili. Chuck also pulls out the gold ring he brought back last time, but Grilliam waves it away. 

After a quick inspection, Grilliam says that the vials look like poison, so he sends an assistant for the apothecary. He says he'll take a look at the other items later, as the prisoners should be questioned now. 

We all go to the stables, where Constable Lamarack has the four prisoners under his control. Delonia, the spell caster, is awake for the first time since we captured her, but she is gagged so that she cannot speak the words of any spells. 

Grilliam reaches out towards her face, but then looks around at all of us. “I’ll remove the gag,” he says, “But you guards and fighters should keep your bows ready. If she says anything that even appears to be a spell, you should shoot her immediately.” We all nod. Chuck draws his bow, and Paks rests her hand on the hilt of her long sword. Grilliam unties the cloth. 

When her mouth is freed, Grilliam ask, “What is your name?”

“I am called Delonia,” she answers.

“What were you doing in the tower?”, he asks.

She gives him an innocent look and a smile. “We were just camping out, not doing anything wrong. I don't know why you're bothering us.” 

Grilliam gets very angry. He is a big man, but in his anger he appears to swell and fill the room. “Don't lie to a priest of Hedrada!” he thunders.

Delonia goes white. She seems to have heard about the questioning methods of the priests of Hedrada. “I wasn't lying...” she whispers.

Grilliam’s face sets in a grim line. “What you deserve, so shall you receive,” he intones, and lays his hand on Delonia's head, clearly casting a spell. “You shall reap the reward of prevaricators,” he says.

Delonia says, “Really, we weren't doing anything wrong...” As she speaks, before she can even finish the sentence, her face swells up and her swollen tongue pushes out of her mouth. 

“I warned you,” Grilliam tells her. “Every time you lie your tongue will betray you from now on. If you continue to lie, you may choke to death. It is not a pleasant way to die.” 

The other three smugglers look aghast. 

After a few minutes, Delonia's tongue shrinks back to a normal size, and he continues to question her. However, when she discovers that if she simply refuses to answer, her tongue does not grow, she refuses to say anything more. 

Eventually, Grilliam says “We'll take her away to try to learn something from her. She may be able to hold out here, in a stable, but at our temple, she won’t be able to resist long. Meanwhile, the apothecary will study the vials you brought back. You should rest. Come to the temple in the morning.” He and Constable Lamarack leave, escorting the prisoners.

As they leave, we head into the inn for dinner. Saraya asks leave to play a few songs in the common room, which Fox grants.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #3: The Spider-Eye goblins. Episode 4 of 12*

Fox sits with the rest of us, arranged comfortably around a large circular table, while Rian serves another delicious meal. Fox seems gratifyingly impressed with us. Over the meal, we talk more about ourselves. 

Miriel is a half-elven cleric. She has already told us her story, how she was found wandering the moors near the town of Lave as a small child, with her twin sister. Raised by innkeepers, she was taught to cook and brew ale, and also studied at the temple of Madriel. After her sister left home, she went to stay at the temple for further study. It sounds as though she were training towards an administrative position, and from a few comments she makes, Goldpetal suspects that she was being groomed for high position within the church. With the exception of the elf, she is one of the oldest members of our company. She was on her way to a convention of healers when the caravan was attacked. 

Paks is a swordswoman, over six feet tall, in her early twenties. She is rather quiet and reserved. She ran away from home at the age of seventeen, and joined a mercenary company, where she was employed for the past two years. She reached the rank of squad leader before she left the company. She was working as a guard on the caravan when it was attacked. She’s still wearing the caravan uniform, but says that she wants to go shopping for new clothes tomorrow, now that we have some money. 

Stone is a very young half-orc. He’s about five and a half feet tall, perhaps a hundred and sixty pounds, wearing a peasant’s clothes, and carrying a nice sack with a basket on top. He’s got a decent set of boots, which he took from one of the bandits in the tower. He’s an Exemplar of Hedrada, he tells us, though not very accomplished. He enjoys fighting, primarily with his fists, drinking, and eating, in any order. 

Goldpetal is an elf, and the smallest member of our party.  He is less than five feet tall, and very thin. He looks fragile, almost breakable. He doesn’t say much about himself other than that he is a druid, but from what he has said, he seems to remember parts of the War. We have the impression that his parents might have died in the Titan’s War, or perhaps in the Druid War afterwards.

Fergus is the largest member of the party, a big highlander, solidly built and over six feet tall. He wields a two-handed great-sword. His people were nomadic farming people living in a town north of the Blood Basin. His clan was destroyed, he tells us, and though the anger in his voice speaks volumes, he does not tell us by whom, even when Paks asks. He was trying to seek out other members of his family when the caravan was attacked. 

Chuck the Younger is about five foot eight, of average to slender build. He was an apprentice of Steve, the Vigil, who was traveling with the caravan. His master was killed by the rat men when they attacked the caravan. He doesn’t talk much about himself. He does his own thing, and, as we’ve learned, he’ll search any corpse, any time. Fox, when he learns Chuck’s background, suggests that he might look for Jim, a Vigil who occasionally stops by town.

We’re all tired, since we didn't get a good night’s sleep, but we decide to divide up the loot before we go to bed. Saraya had been performing up on the stage, but she comes with us to get her share of the loot. The crowd is clearly sorry to see her go, and the house bard looks quite impressed. Fox accompanies us up to one of our rooms, as we don’t want to show off treasure in the common room.

Once we’re in a room, we each spread out the things which we gathered on one of the beds. We brought back: 
A holy symbol of Enkili (a chaotic neutral god), on a gold chain 
A dagger 
2 parchments 
116 gold, 31 silver 
A bag of gold, with another 50 gold inside
An intricately carved rat skull 
A silver ring 
A bone scroll case 
A blue gem​
As Chuck reaches out towards the stack, Miriel restrains him. “Let me cast _detect Magic_ on everything, first.” she warns. She spends a minute in prayer and meditation. “Nothing seems to be magical,” she concludes. 

Stone looks at the ring, and sees that the ring is very finely wrought, with rats running around it. The rat skull has the same sort of carving work, old and intricate. Fox, looking over his shoulder, says “The ring and the skull are obviously Slytherin art.”

“Slytherin?” asks Stone.

“The rat men,” Goldpetal explains.

“Oh,” Stone says, in his dull half-orc voice.

Miriel looks over the two parchments. One of them is a map, on which we recognize Southport, the coast, the tower, and it shows a path southwards to and into the swamp, the Mourning Marshes. The other has a strange pattern of dashes and X’s.

I: -XXX
II: X-X-
III: ---
IV: X-X-​It is signed or stamped with a stylized ‘A.’ None of us can make much sense of it, nor can Fox.

As Goldpetal and Miriel scratch their heads over the pattern, Chuck grabs the scroll case and opens it. There’s a scroll in it, but he cannot read the writing. “What is this?” he asks.

“Here, let me take a look,” Miriel says, and he hands it to her. After she studies it briefly, she says, “This is clearly magic, not very powerful, and divine, not arcane. It is neither good nor evil.”  She studies the scroll, using her years of religious training, and after a few minutes, she says, “It’s a scroll of Bless. Perhaps I should take it.”

“But, I want it!” Chuck protests. 

Miriel looks at him levelly, and points out, “You can’t use it, and I can.”

“Fine,” Chuck says. “Can I have the holy symbol?” Nobody objects, and he picks up the symbol of Enkili. Goldpetal selects the empty bag and the blue gem. Stone takes the carved rat skull. Miriel gets the dagger, and that leaves Paks with the silver ring. Saraya is content with the gold. As usual, Fergus declines his share, which leaves twenty seven gold pieces and five silver for each of us.

Paks looks at the leftover four gold and a silver, which didn't divide evenly. “Let’s keep the remainder for a slush fund. We can use it for shared expenses, like buying healing potions, or that sort of thing.” 

Everyone nods in agreement. Miriel says, “That’s a fine idea. Paks, you can hold on to it.” Stone nods in approval, and everyone else also agrees with this suggestion. We retire to bed.


----------



## Broccli_Head

The dividing the treasure scene reminded me how fun low-level adventuring can be....everyone scraping for every copper!

I'd rather have one long post, btw.


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## Amaroq

Heh. I'd rather one long post myself, and a better page-break style. Any hints?

Maybe I should go with, break each issue into a half-dozen 'episodes', but post them all at once, rather than spread out over several days?

Also, do people prefer the "cliffhanger" ending for post-breaks, or breaking at natural rest points for the characters?


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## Broccli_Head

I think three or four episodes or posts/session write-up works pretty well. 

Also, a mix of cliff-hangers and slow endings is the best. Too many cliff-hangers is annoying. Too many "they return to town, rest, heal, and level-up..." is boring.


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## Amaroq

Did you like the "burst of post" idea; e.g., posting those 3 to 5 posts simultaneously?


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #3: The Spider-Eye Goblins. Episodes 5, 6, and 7*

The next morning is the first Belsaday of Charder. As we’re having breakfast in The Laughing Ogre, we hear Fox talking to his daughter. “Where are your brothers, Rian?  I haven’t seen them since last night.”

Rian answers, “I haven’t seen them this morning, either. I’ve had to do most of their chores!”

“You don’t know where they are?”

When she answers, “No,” Fox looks worried.

After finishing breakfast, we go to the temple of Hedrada, moving quickly through the rituals of entry. Stone places ten gold coins into the temple donations box as we pass. 

Grilliam congratulates and thanks us, paying us with twenty platinum pieces, at which Fergus looks dubious, having never seen platinum money before. Grilliam explains the currency in Vesh, but Fergus is still dubious, and the rest of us try to explain it to him in a riot of voices. It looks like we might argue about the currency, but Grilliam interrupts us.

“You guys are doing a great job,” Hedrada’s priest says. “If you’d like to be my investigators, I’ll give you ten more platinum up front.”  

Saraya shakes her head. “No thank you,” she says emphatically. “One adventure was more than enough for me. I’ll take my share of the payment, and go my own way.”  

Goldpetal asks, “What would the investigation entail?” 

“I want you to find out who is on either side of the delivery,” Grilliam answers. “Where does the stuff come from? Who is picking it up?” 

Miriel says, “I’m interested, but I need to go talk to my priestess first.”

Stone says, “And I want to talk to the high priest of Hedrada. Oh wait, that’s you.” He laughs.

Fergus looks unsure. “I’m not sure if I want to stay,” he says, “Or continue on my journey.”

Before we can discuss it further, an elderly man enters the office. Grilliam gestures towards him, “This is the apothecary, Spalier. Spalier, I presume you have your report on those vials? These are the worthies who found them.”

“Yes,” the old man says. “It’s mostly poisons, produced by a tribe of rat men who focus on the production of poisons and potions. The black vials are an inhalation poison, the amber are injury poisons, and the green are ingestion poisons. They are all deadly, extremely powerful, and extremely rare. I don’t even know who would buy this stuff, but it would be very expensive, probably a couple hundred gold each.”

Stone immediately suggests, “We could sell it for a huge profit!”

His laughing eyes suggest that he was joking, but Grilliam takes him seriously. “No,” the priest says sternly. “You, of all people, should know better. These are contraband, which you agreed to turn in before you went on my mission.”

“Actually, it’s not all poisons,” the old man continues. “The glowing emerald potions are glitter ink, for inscribing scrolls. The white potions are neutralize poison potions.”

“You can keep both of those,” Grilliam tells Stone. Then he turns towards the dour and shouts, “Taylor! Go fetch the emerald potions and white potions from Spalier’s shop.” An assistant of Grilliam’s runs out to fetch the potions. 

Paks asks Grilliam, “Can we purchase potions of healing? We used those you gave us.”

It is Spalier who answers. “Certainly, come by my shop later.”

Miriel says, “We’ll come back with a decision,” and we prepare to leave.

Stone looks at his high priest, and says, “I accept.”  Grilliam nods his thanks, and we all file out of his office.

We’re in the main hall of the Temple when Taylor returns with the potions. Spalier checks to make sure that they are the correct ones, and so it is that we acquire twelve vials of glitter ink and two of neutralize poison.



As we walk out of the temple, we all split up to do our errands in the town. Paks asks Fergus to walk with her, but most of us go separate directions. 

Stone goes shopping. He finds a leather-worker’s shop, and orders a nice pair of boots. The leather-worker tells him that they will take a couple of days to make. He starts wandering through town, and buys another roll of cheese on his way back to the inn. He is the first to return to the Laughing Ogre, and starts drinking.


Miriel goes to the temple of Madriel. She speaks to the high priestess. Verenia has a small office in the temple. First, she outlines our adventure, and Grilliam’s job offer, most of which Verenia seems to already know about. Then, since Verenia had previously mentioned Miriel’s future, Miriel asks for more guidance about her future direction. “I had planned on returning to Lave as quickly as I might,” she explains.

Verenia pours water into a bowl for a divination spell. After some contemplation, she says, “Your fate is here, in this town, for now. You should continue as you have been,” she says, “As you are now on the right path. Madriel shines on you, my child.” 

“Should I take the job Grilliam has offered?” asks Miriel.

“Yes,” Verenia answers without hesitation. “This is the work that both gods wish you to do.”

“Are there healing artifacts I might borrow?” Miriel inquires. 

Verenia shakes her head. “True artifacts are far too rare and expensive. I could offer to sell you potions of Healing, at our cost to manufacture them. As you know, we specialize in healing, so you might find these more effective than those you were offered by the apothecary.” 

“What are the costs?” asks Miriel.

“I have two ready,” Verenia answers. “They each cost about sixty gold to manufacture.”

“I don’t have that much,” Miriel pleads. “If I give you everything I have, it comes just over a hundred.”

“Very well,” Verenia says. “But you should donate to Madriel quite soon.”

“Is there anything I can do to help out around the temple,” Miriel asks, “And also, may I come here to study?”

“You are always welcome to come to study. There’s nothing we need help with at the moment, but there is a wedding you can help officiate at later in the week.” 

Their conversation is over near mid-day, and Miriel meditates at the temple for a while. She spends the afternoon walking around the town, familiarizing herself with the area, and returns to the inn well before dinner.



Paks and Fergus walk around town together. Paks asks him about switching to the bastard sword as her main weapon, as it is a masterwork weapon. He points out that she would be unable to use the shield, and suggests that the strokes of a two-handed weapon differ substantially from those of a long sword, but that he’d be happy to show her some of the moves, in training.

Paks stops at the apothecary to pick up healing potions, but they cost sixty five gold pieces each, which is more than she has, so she says she’ll think about it, and they leave to poke through some other shops.

Meanwhile, she sounds out Fergus about an idea she’s had. “I’d like to set up the party almost like a mercenary company,” she says, “Run the same way as the company I was part of.”

“What did you have in mind?”, he asks.

“I thought that one share of our treasures could be given ‘to the party fund’ against future expenses, such as healing, or purchasing horses. Would you be interested?”

Fergus looks contemplative. “I’m amenable to the concept,” he says hesitantly, “And the structure you suggest would work for me. However, I’m not certain that I want to remain and settle into that routine. I’m still intent on finding my fellow clansmen, the MacAllisters, and I’m loathe to give up on that so quickly.”

Paks nods. “I understand. Think about it. Oh, here’s the tailor! I want to order a new outfit, something other than this caravan guard’s uniform.”  They step into the tailor’s, and he takes her measure, saying that he can have a new outfit ready for her in three days. She places the order, requesting two outfits suitable for travel.

Paks and Fergus continue to walk the town, and they have an encouraging talk. Both feel the kinship of brothers in arms, and they return to the inn in the late afternoon in high spirits.



Chuck tries to connect with Jim the Vigil.  He tries to find the Vigil for most of the day, looking in different stores and inns, but the search is fruitless. No one seems to know where Jim is, although many are familiar with him, either by name or by description.  

In the late afternoon, Chuck gives up, and decides to go shopping before the shops close.  He stops by the general store and buys more rope, and two empty potion vials. He then goes to Saylis to browse her selection of weapons and armor. He sells the four poor quality daggers, for two gold pieces. He prices and tries on some chain shirts, but they are too expensive and make so much noise when he moves, that he decides against them. 

He returns to the inn just before sunset, and he and Paks spar for a while. With two swords, he is much quicker than the mercenary, and though he tries to teach her to move more, and stay on the balls of her feet, she remains fairly slow.



Goldpetal goes to the town jeweler first, where he sells the blue stone for forty gold coins. He asks about a druid priest, but the jeweler gives him a funny look, and Goldpetal doesn’t pursue it. He has noticed that he is already getting funny looks from the townspeople for being a wood elf druid. Followers of the Titan, Denev, are not very popular in the human lands, where the people worship the gods. 

He goes to the weapons shop to buy a composite short bow, which he is able to find immediately, and he takes with him. By noon, he is getting frustrated with the town, so he goes for a walk in the hills nearby.

He finds his little campsite, still intact, and meditates through sunset, which makes him the last one to return to the inn.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #3: The Spider-Eye Goblins. Episodes 8, 9, and 10*

After a long day of shopping, we all converge back at the inn for another fabulous meal. As we eat, Fox stops by the table to ask, “Have you seen Randall or Reginald?”

Chuck answers, “Yes, we saw them last night.”

Fox just shakes his head at this news. “I’m getting worried,” he says. “No one has seen them since they went to bed last night.”

We look around the table, but everyone shakes their head. Miriel says, “Between us, we were all around the town today, and none of us saw them.”

Fox looks increasingly distraught. He sits at our table, and tells us a long involved story of how he adopted the three children after their parents were killed by rat men, and how they are dearer to him than anything. We are sympathetic, but not sure how to help, and frankly, it looks as though Fox is not sure what more he can do, either. 

Near the end of his tale, Goldpetal arrives, the last member of our company to return.  Fox stands up to leave the table, and Miriel asks for contributions towards the cost of the healing potions. Paks, Chuck, Stone, and Goldpetal all chip in, and Paks withdraws most of the money from the new party fund. 

As they’re giving her the money, Randall staggers through the front door of the inn. The teenager looks exhausted and bruised, like he’s been beaten up. “What happened to you?” exclaims Fox, and we all gather around to hear his answer. 

In a sniffling, quavering voice, Randall tells his tale. “Me and my brother, after hearing your story, decided to go check out the tower themselves. We thought it was safe, ’cause you’d killed everything. We pretended to go to bed, and then snuck out the window.” He can’t even look Fox in the eye as he says this.

“Anyway,” he continues, “We got down there but it was still dark, and cold, and we camped out near the woods to wait for morning. While we were asleep, these strange goblins jumped out of the woods.  They were everywhere, and they grabbed us and tried to drag them into the woods. I fought them off and ran away, but I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t do anything for Reginald. I think he was taken prisoner. Maybe they killed him!”

“How many goblins?” asks Goldpetal, his voice calm.

“I don’t... I don’t know,” the teenager stammers. “It was dark, and I just have the impression of lots of goblin hands and some goblin voices.”

“Were there spiders?” asks Goldpetal, with a strange look in his eye.

“No,” Randall says hesitantly, “But… they weren’t exactly normal goblins, either. What I could see of them looked strange, leathery, and distorted.”

“Where was this?” asks Paks.

“We were camped in a small clearing near the eaves of the forest, right by the tower.”

Chuck and Paks exchange glances. Chuck says, “That may have been the exact spot where we camped two nights ago.” Paks nods.

“Please,” Fox says, turning to lay his hands across Miriel’s arm. “Please, go rescue Reginald.”

Stone doesn’t even respond to him, but stands and marches straight into the kitchen. He grabs cheese and bread, causing the cook some surprise, and then heads straight out the door, walking south down the road.

The rest of us, in a babble of voices, begin debating how to go, but we are interrupted by one of the other patrons of the inn. She is a tall woman, wearing only a bikini and a gold-embroidered cloak. She has magnificent red hair, but is otherwise rather loud and unattractive. She introduces herself. “I am Brunhilde Hasenpfeffer. I’ve heard of you, and I couldn’t help but overhear. Might I be of assistance in seeking this lost youth?”

Chuck and Fergus look a little dubious, but Paks answers, “Certainly, any help would be appreciated.”

“Here, let me provide light,” the newcomer offers. She gestures, and a glowing point appears on her shoulder. We have light.

“Let’s go,” Miriel says, and we step outside the inn.  

As Brunhilde steps out of the Laughing Ogre, a large black bat swoops down to land on her shoulder. When we look askance at this, she says, “Allow me to introduce Fledermaus, my bat familiar.”

We do not immediately begin down the road, as we begin a discussion of how and whether to make use of the horses. Finally, Fergus rides with Goldpetal, Miriel rides with Paks, and Brunhilde and Chuck ride alone.  It takes us a half an hour of hard riding to catch Stone, but after that he keeps up with the horses easily, on foot. 



Even with the horses, it takes us about five hours to reach the area where Reginald was taken, so it’s the middle of the night when we draw near to the place. 

“Let’s stop here,” Paks says, when we reach the point at the road from which we have been directed to search westward. “We should assess the situation before walking into it.”

Brunhilde’s magical light has long since expired, so Chuck asks, “Let’s have some light.” 

“No,” Fergus says quickly, with a shake of his head. “It would reveal us more than revealing anything to us.”

“I’ll send Fledermaus to look for any large creatures in the area,” says Brunhilde.
Goldpetal, who sees well in the dark, studies the ground for tracks leading from the road. “I don’t see anything here,” he says. “Just the foot prints of the two boys, heading towards the woods.” 

When the bat returns, he and Brunhilde converse in high squeaks for a moment. She tells us, “Fledermaus says that there are no large creatures in the area.”

“Let’s go, then,” Chuck says. 

We move stealthily through the woods to the campsite. The clearing is vacant, but we can see a spot where the boys lit a fire. Stone, who has excellent night vision, inspects the area of the campsite, but from his silence, we can tell that he finds nothing unusual. 

Chuck and Goldpetal study the ground for tracks. “There’s goblin prints all around,” Chuck says.

“Yes,” adds Goldpetal. “In the campsite, the tracks are so jumbled, I can’t even estimate how many there might have been.” 

Chuck checks around the perimeter of the campsite. “Here,” he says. “Somebody was dragged this way, I can see the marks his heels made.” He points west, directly into the heart of the wood. “The tracks go straight into the woods, and should be very easy to follow.”

“Can you tell how many there were?” asks Fergus.

“Not really,” Chuck gives a quick shake of his head. “It could be anywhere from eight to twenty.”

Paks says, “Here, let’s tie up the horses at the campsite. They would be more hindrance than help in these woods.” Chuck nods, and Paks begins tying the horses.

“Goblins can see at night,” Fergus warns

“Most of us can’t,” says Stone. “We’ll need light.”

“We could use that hooded lantern,” Paks calls, from where she is tying the horses, “To illuminate only the path, so as not to completely destroy our night vision.”

Miriel asks, “Would spiders approach the light?”

Goldpetal shakes his head. “Spiders should be repelled by fire, so I’d suggest carrying torches.”

Stone grows impatient at the constant discussion, and begins heading into the woods. Paks and Miriel follow, and the remainder of the party strings out behind them. Goldpetal, having good night vision, works his way to the front. 

Miriel offers to carry the lantern, so as to free the others for carrying their weapons. Brunhilde is behind her and Chuck brings up the rear. Paks asks Brunhilde to send Fledermaus out ahead, which she agrees to, and he flies about 100 yards ahead. 

Everywhere we look in the woods we see spiders. Little ones, tarantula sized ones, basketball sized ones like the ones that attacked us before. They all stay away from the light, which shines on hundreds of eyeballs. It is very spooky. Even Fledermaus feels it, and he is so unhappy being any distance from us that Brunhilde lets him come back and settle on her shoulder. 

As we walk, Fergus says again, “We should discuss what we’re doing before moving on.”

“We’re attacking the goblins, and rescuing a child,” says Chuck, impatience clear in his voice.

“What they have done to us?” asks Fergus.

“Kidnapped a child,” says Paks.

“We follow the gods,” Miriel says imperiously, “And it therefore follows that we hate the twisted spawn of the Titans. We have to rescue the child, so there is really nothing to discuss.”

The argument continues in hushed tones at the back of the party as we march, but Fergus is unable to convince anyone. Those who are willing to answer him cannot understand why he is acting as though we are proposing an attack on innocent humans; he appears unable to see a moral difference between the divine races, humans, elves, dwarves, and their like, and the spawn of the Titans. Eventually the discussion trails off into silence, though Fergus appears disturbed.



Up front, Goldpetal is tracking the goblins. After about an hour and a half, the woods we are moving through have become very close and dense. Off in the distance we can see a hill, not very clearly. Goldpetal stops at a twenty foot tall wall of web, motioning with his hands for the rest of us to stop. We bump into each other, but there is no major disaster. Goldpetal passes a whisper along our line that we should back up. 

Upon inspection, we see that the web is almost like a wall, a solid mass of sticky substance that extends off in both directions, and cuts off the path. Apparently, the goblins climbed the trees at this point, as there is clearly no way through the web. 

“I think we could hack through the web,” suggests Fergus. 

Brunhilde whispers, “I’d suggest at least drawing our weapons.”

Stone says, “I’m gonna try and see what’s on the other side.” Without waiting for debate, the half-orc quickly climbs one of the trees. 

Beyond the web, and through a few more trees, there is a clearing with a small campfire. The web is clearly a wall around a goblin enclave. The enclave does not contain any structures, but there are several large trees. 

Stone can see about fifteen goblins, praying to an idol of a spider, with a goblin shaman leading the prayer. The goblins are very strange-looking, even though Stone has seen many goblins before. They have four feet, four arms, and eight eyes – they almost seem to be a mix of spiders and goblins. The goblins are very intent on their worship, and they are all facing away from us, towards the idol on the west side of the clearing. They haven’t noticed us. 

Stone climbs back down quietly and reports all this to us. “There’s fifteen of ’em,” he whispers, “And a shaman. They’re praying. They have a lot of arms, legs, and eyes, like a spider mixed with a goblin.”

“Yuck,” says Paks.

Miriel looks to Goldpetal. “Have you ever heard of such creatures?”

“No,” answers the elf, who has the most lore of any of us. “I’ve never heard of such goblins, or of a spider-goblin cross-breeding.” 

“What do we do?” asks Stone.

Paks suggests, “Let’s climb the trees, and fire on them with our bows.”

“Okay,” Miriel says. “I can bless everyone.”

“We’d be vulnerable,” objects Fergus, “To being attacked from below while we’re in the trees. Besides, we don’t know if they have the boy. I think we should not attack them, if they don’t.”

“It seems obvious that they do,” Chuck whispers, shaking his head as though unable to see why Fergus doubts it. “We followed the tracks of his being dragged to this point.” 

Fergus, growing ever more frustrated with our insistence on fighting the goblins, turns to Miriel. “Will you sell me a torch?” he hisses.

She looks confused, but says, “Okay.” She hands him a torch, and he drops a silver piece in her palm. He leaves, striding determinedly back down our trail towards the horses. 

Chuck says, quietly, “Fergus, you fool!” but no one tries to stop the argumentative highlander. 

When he is gone, we return to planning. “The goblins are on the far side,” Stone says.

“Let’s circle around this web,” Brunhilde suggests, “To get closer to them.”

Goldpetal nods. “I’ll cast an entanglement to slow the goblins down,” he says.

“Right,” says Chuck. “We’ll all hold our fire. Your spell will be the signal to loose arrows.”

“I’ll stay here,” Stone says, “To keep a watch, and get them from the rear.” He pulls out his crossbow and begins climbing the same tree a second time. The goblins are still chanting, apparently unaware of our presence, and he gives the rest of us a thumbs-up sign. He watches the goblins with crossbow at the ready, but they are still intent on their ritual and do not seem to hear us moving near them.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #3: The Spider-Eye Goblins. Episodes 11 and 12*

While Stone waits, the rest of us make our way through the woods around the left side of the circular web wall, stealthily working our way to a point on the west side of the clearing. We all climb trees on the far side of the circle of web. The shaman chants in an unintelligible language while the other goblins genuflect and murmur their chant. Goldpetal prepares his spell, while Miriel prepares hers. The rest of us have our weapons ready to fire when the spell takes effect. 

Miriel _blesses_ everyone in range just before Goldpetal casts the _entangle_. The goblins stop their ritual in confusion, yelling and screaming. Half of the goblins are entangled as the grass, bushes, and even trees seem to come alive, grabbing them in a vise-like grip. We all unleash our arrows, but none of us hit. Chuck's arrow goes straight into the fire. Miriel throws an enchanted stone at the nearest goblin, but misses. Brunhilde casts a _magic missile_ at the shaman, and the magical bolt of energy wounds him. The shaman seems more annoyed than injured. He turns around to face away from us, towards his goblins, and shouts to them, “Bad people! Attacking us!” 

He starts waving his arms, and bends over, still facing away from us. Suddenly, a huge _web_ shoots out of his hind parts, towards Paks. She and Chuck are trapped as a great spider web spreads magically between the trees. The seven unentangled goblins throw darts at us, two each, primarily targeting Paks and Chuck, but none of the darts hit. Each of the seven is entangled by the vines, which now hold all of the goblins except the shaman. 

Stone, at the opposite side of the enclave, shoots at the goblin closest to him, but misses. Miriel, unaffected by the web, slings another rock into the goblins, and misses. Goldpetal starts climbing down his tree, moving extremely slowly due to the sticky strands. Chuck breaks out of the grip of the web and tries to move beyond the area of the spell. Paks, stuck at the center of the web, tries to break free. Though she comes close, she remains firmly entangled. Brunhilde casts another _magic missile_ at the shaman, and again he is hurt as her bright, almost white, bolt of energy strikes him. 

“Why?” the shaman shouts at us, his voice full of despair. “Why are you attacking us?” 

Chuck yells back, “Where's the boy?” 

The shaman points to the hill behind us with all four arms. “He's present, present, present!” He turns, and runs for one of the trees behind the goblins. It seems to be hollow, as he disappears within it, only to reappear up in its branches a moment or two later. 

Most of the goblins break free of the vines. Goldpetal and Chuck both get stuck in the web. Stone and Miriel each kill a goblin, Stone with his arrow and Miriel with an enchanted stone. When the shaman appears in the branches of the tree he had climbed, Brunhilde casts a third _magic missile_ at him. 

Paks, deeply buried in the magical web, can only yell out “All we want is the boy!" She continues to struggle, but remains unable to free herself.

The shaman pulls out a vial of some sort, and drinks it quickly. “Man boy up there!” he yells back. “Leave us alone!” Brunhilde is discouraged, as he has clearly healed himself of much of the damage she has done with her three spells. 

One of the unentangled goblins runs for a tree and hides in it, but most of the goblins are entangled again. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion, between the vines and the web. Miriel hits a goblin with a rock, but it isn’t killed outright. Stone’s arrow misses. He’s clearly better with his fists than with the bow. Goldpetal, Chuck, and Paks are unable to break free of the webbing. Brunhilde, who has exhausted her magic, climbs down from her tree.

Paks yells to Chuck and Goldpetal, “Are goblins lawful?”

“They’re unnatural,” Goldpetal replies, with disgust and revulsion evident in his voice. 

Paks shouts, “Shaman, are you a goblin of honor?”

The shaman clearly doesn't understand the question. He yells back, “Stop attacking us, bad people! Over there, leave us alone!” 

He moves his hands, casting another spell. The two dead goblin corpses shrivel up, and he looks stronger. The goblin that got under cover of the trees runs for it, leaving the area as quickly as possible. Paks and Goldpetal are still stuck, but Chuck is able to move down the tree a bit. Stone and Miriel both miss. Brunhilde reaches the edge of the web and starts pulling Goldpetal out.

The shaman gestures up the hill, and yells “People, that way!” Then he casts another spell, and a dense _obscuring mist_ begins to covers the clearing. Within seconds, most of the clearing is hidden from our sight in the magical fog. The only two goblins we can still see break free of their entanglement, and hide in the mists as well. Now, we can’t see any of them. We have no idea what they are doing.

Stone jumps down from his tree and begins running around the circle to join the rest of us. Brunhilde pulls Goldpetal out of the web.  Goldpetal, who hasn’t yet seen the mist, moves out of the webbed area and climbs a tree.

Chuck is still able to make some progress, moving further down his tree. Goldpetal, seeing the mist, swears and drops back down from his tree.  He starts moving through the woods, circling around the webbed area. 

Miriel tries to go into the web to help Paks, but Paks is firmly stuck.  Stone arrives and actually steps in to the web to try to help Paks out. Paks still can’t break free.  Brunhilde and Miriel also move into the webbed area to help Paks. Finally, when Chucks gets free and helps the other four, with everyone’s help, we are able to pull her out.  She was directly hit by the shaman’s spell, and is covered in sticky webbing, uninjured, but very disgusted at the wet webbing encasing her.

From in the mist, we hear the shaman’s voice. “Go away! Leave us alone. We not attack you. We stay here in mist.” 

“Hey shaman,” Paks yells. “We only want the boy!”

The shaman’s voice comes back, “Truce yes, truce! Good people. Sorry about boy! Nice present, nice present.” 

Eventually, the mist clears, and we can see that Goldpetal’s entangling underbrush has also subsided.  We can see a few of the goblins peeking out from the hollowed out trees, watching us. 

The Shaman yells out, “Go away people! Bye, bye, bye...”

Paks hollers back, “Shaman, to seal deal, present!” She pulls ten copper pieces and throws them over the web wall. 

The shaman grabs the coins. “Ooh ooh! Shiny coins! Nice people, nice people, go away. Bye-bye people...”

Stone mutters, “How about if we give you a platinum piece and kill the rest of you?”

The goblin shaman, who heard him, moans “Go away...”

We start to leave, moving towards the path we can see that leads up the hill. 



As we walk up the hill, in the direction the shaman had claimed that Reginald was “present,” Fledermaus flies ahead.  

When the bat returns, he and Brunhilde confer in squeaks. “He checked out the top of the hill,” she says, “And warns us of a big, spooky cave that he wouldn't go into.”

“A cave that a bat wouldn't go in?” asks Chuck, his tone incredulous. 

“That worries me,” Paks says, and the look on her face tells just how worried she is. Miriel and Goldpetal have grim looks affixed to their faces.

The hill is clear of trees. We walk up the trail, which is covered with footprints, and reach the big cave at the top of the path. 

We gather around the cave mouth, and peer into the dark maw. We can see an enormous number of webs inside. The passage inward is about twenty feet long, and opens into a larger cave which it is tough to tell how large it is.  Stone says, “I can see the boy, about forty feet inside. He’s wrapped in webs. It looks like he's been left as an offering.” 

The strands of the webs that we can see are the biggest we’ve ever seen, more like thick ropes. The way in is relatively clear of webs. 

“If we rest for a little while,” Brunhilde offers, “I can cast Dancing Lights inside the cave, so we can see better.”

“Let’s just sneak in and grab the child,” Stone says. He looks at Chuck and Paks, and suggests, “We can cast Light on your swords, and sheathe them, pulling them out when we need light.” 

We refine that plan, and eventually, we decide to send Chuck and Stone to sneak in with magically lighted weapons, and grab the boy. The rest of us ready our weapons as well, and Brunhilde holds a torch ready to light and toss in, once Chuck and Stone are safely out with the boy. 

Stone goes in the lead, with Chuck following about eight feet behind him.  The cave is large, and irregularly shaped, with dark recesses in the far wall suggesting unexplored depths. Nothing moves in the crevasses, however, and the half-orc makes it to the boy, and picks him up, ready to run for the exit. 

Just as Stone turns around, a gigantic black spider, several times larger than a man, drops from above the entrance, where it had lurked as he entered the cave.  The gargantuan beast completely blocks the passage out. Stone drops the boy and yells, and Chuck draws his swords, but they are both cut off from the rest of us.

Paks is the first to react, charging down the hall to hack at the spider from behind. Her sword hits its torso, but bounces off of its thick hairy hide without damaging the beast. Brunhilde runs up just behind her, and hits it with her quarterstaff, leaving a big bruise. Miriel charges with her short spear, but her experience is like Paks’. A blow which she thought sure to hit simply bounces off of the thick hide of the monster. Goldpetal shoots his bow over the heads of his companion, and his arrow buries itself in the spider’s hide.

In the cave, Chuck slashes at it with both swords, but neither of them can penetrate its hide, either. The spider bites at Chuck, but misses as Chuck leaps back, out of the way. Stone steps around Chuck, and starts punching at it, but even his fists have no effect. 

At its back side, Paks hits it hard with her sword, opening a deep gash which has clearly wounded it. Miriel stabs the spider with her short spear; it screams and begins dripping a black ichor. 

Chuck hits with both swords, cutting it especially hard with his longsword as Brunhilde runs around the spider to get to the boy. The spider is furious now, and it bites Chuck, its great mouth nearly encircling his torso, and sharp chitinous edges slice through his leather armor. He’s badly injured, but stays on his feet as poison begins to course through his veins.

Stone punches, hitting hard, and the spider reels a bit. It no longer looks as strong, and tries to back against the wall of the cave.  Goldpetal shoots and misses, grazing Miriel. His wayward arrow throws off her aim, and she misses again. Paks misses badly, hitting the ground with her sword. Chuck, looking progressively weakened, swings both swords at the spider, but now he lacks the strength to pierce its great hide.

The spider bites Chuck again, and again it wounds him severely. The Vigilant collapses, bleeding, and looks very weak. Brunhilde runs over to him, and drags him out of the fray. Paks cuts the spider again with her longsword, but Miriel misses. Goldpetal draws his scimitar and begins to work his way to the right side, looking for an opening.

Stone punches the spider, to no effect. The spider leaps on top of Stone, knocking him to the ground, and bites him as well. It’s a vicious bite, deep into the half-orc’s ribs, and he, too, collapses to the cave floor. 

With the party in desperate straights, Goldpetal lets out a cry. “Denev help me!” he shouts, calling upon his Titan deity for aid, and he smites the spider with his scimitar. It is a mighty blow. The Titan smiles upon him and his scimitar penetrates deep into the spider’s head. A great spurt of ichor comes from the wound, and the spider’s collapses, its legs still twitching for a moment, as though it might try to rise, but its body remains on the cave floor.

For a brief moment there is silence as we stare at the awesome beast the tiny elf has just slain. The legs stop twitching.



“Miriel, hurry!” Brunhilde’s voice breaks the silence. “There are injured!”

Miriel runs to Chuck first, and heals him as Brunhilde tries to bind Stone’s wounds.  When Miriel gets to Stone, she also calls Madriel’s healing for the half-orc, and with both of them out of immediate danger, she spends a longer time to heal them both back into reasonably good shape. 

Brunhilde checks the child for poison. To no one's surprise, he is poisoned, but seems to be stable. Chuck still looks very weak from the poison as well.

Stone picks up the child and walks out. Goldpetal follows. Miriel stops at the mouth of the cave to watch the outside. Stone sees the goblins watching us from the trees outside. 

Paks helps Chuck to his feet, and Chuck, Paks, and Brunhilde search the cave. A cursory search reveals only webs, junk, old bones, and the corpses of humans, and goblins. Some of the goblin corpses have been sucked dry, and are almost goblin husks over a skeleton more than anything resembling a creature.

Miriel says, “I need to rest, if we’re to make it back past those goblins.”  Brunhilde agrees.  

Paks and Chuck perform a more thorough search of the cave while Miriel and Brunhilde rest. Stone and Goldpetal keep a watchful eye on the goblins. Paks finds eighty pieces of gold, two violet gems, and, on one dead husk, a scroll, rolled up and tied. In a corner behind a rock, Chuck finds, under a lot of junk, a sheathed dagger. Something about it fascinates him; he pulls it out a little from its beautifully-carved sheath and it shines very brightly, illuminating most of the cave. He re-sheathes it and puts it in his pack. 

We rest for the remainder of the night.


----------



## Broccli_Head

It takes longer to catch up on the posts when you do them thrice in quick succession, but hey, I still like the story. That's the best part!


----------



## joshwitz

Thanks again for re-writing and posting our adventures, Amaroq.  It's great fun to read them in your voice and remember what we did 2 years ago!

You've also reminded me how annoying Fergus was!  It was like playing with Noam Chomsky:  "The ratmen are obviously just oppressed peasants who live in a resource poor environment.  It makes perfect rational sense that they raid the Veshian lands for resources.  Desperate people do desperate things; it doesn't make them evil.  The Ratmen are thinking, obviously sentient creatures, with a language and a culture of their own, yet the Veshians send out proxy 'adventurers' to ethnically cleanse the vilified 'beast-men'.  Is this any different from a government organized pogrom?"

I kept wanting to shake him and say: "Dude, they are ratmen and they want to torture and eat you and resurrect their evil god of pestilence and vermin! What more do you need!"

Each session I tried to make the goblins and ratmen more and more evil so there wouldn't be this constant argument about leaving the ratmen alone.  Drug and poison smuggling, slavery, kidnapping: he had a answer for everything!  I couldn't believe that he walked out instead of rescuing a young boy being offered as a sacrifice to a giant spider!

Oh well.  He might make a good NPC one day.  Reading this again, I realize  that you guys did a pretty good job in avoiding slaughtering the goblins out of hand.  Morally, you guys acted better than Fergus did!  I should have given you more xps for avoiding the combat.


----------



## joshwitz

ps - I like the shorter and more frequent postings.  It's easier to read, and I have something to look forward to every day.  But that's just my opinion.  Do whatever is easiest for you.  It's your labor of love, after all.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

A few questions:

1. Did you guys continue to game with Noam "Fergus" Chomsky? It doesn't seem like Fergus really fits with the rest of the party.

2. How many PCs are there? If all of the characters are PCs, I count Goldpetal, Paks, Fergus, Brunhilde, Miriel, Chuck, and Stone. That's a lot of players--bordering on the edge of what I've found to be managable.

3. Is this campaign still ongoing? Or did it finish sometime between two years ago and now?

It's a pleasure to read and even more so since it gets updated so frequently. . . .


----------



## joshwitz

> 1. Did you guys continue to game with Noam "Fergus" Chomsky? It doesn't seem like Fergus really fits with the rest of the party.




No.  That was the end of Fergus.  You don't really get it from this narrative, but he really caused a lot of party dissention, and slowed the game down.  The player came back with 2 other characters, neither of which worked all that great, and then gave up the game.  He didn't play well with others...



> 2. How many PCs are there? If all of the characters are PCs, I count Goldpetal, Paks, Fergus, Brunhilde, Miriel, Chuck, and Stone. That's a lot of players--bordering on the edge of what I've found to be managable.




6 to 8 at any one session.  And yes, 8 borders on unmanagable.



> 3. Is this campaign still ongoing? Or did it finish sometime between two years ago and now?




Yup, it's still going stong.  We play about once a month.  A lot has happened since the spider-eye goblins...  From what Amaroq has told me, there's about 400 pages of story at the moment.



> It's a pleasure to read and even more so since it gets updated so frequently. . . .




Thanks.  I think Amaroq is doing a great job in re-telling our story.


----------



## Amaroq

*On frequency*

I was enjoying the shorter, every day format, but I think that would be too distracting from work. I will try a four-to-five post "chunkification" with a weekly drop, for now; feel free to chime in later if you have other ideas.

More XP's for avoiding the combat? Read on, my friend....

Next issue: Fulcan's character makes a brief debut...  and a "bonus insert", which we didn't actually play, but may provide some background on the world for those of you who aren't familiar with the Scarred Lands campaign setting.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #4: Southport. Episode 1 of 5*

19th of May, 2002​
*Issue #4​*
*Southport​*
_We were at the Laughing Ogre Inn, when the innkeeper, our good friend Fox Dunharrow, learned that his adopted son, Reginald, was kidnapped by some sort of goblin. We set out immediately to rescue the boy. We found the tracks of the goblins, leading us deep into the Spiderwood in pursuit.  

When we caught up to the goblins, we found them hidden in an enclave protected by a wall of thick spider webs. They were spider-eye goblins, a mutant crossbreed of spider and goblin. We fought them to a standstill, only to learn that they did not have the boy any longer. They had left him in a great cave, atop a hill deeper into the Spiderwood. 

We advanced into the cave, where we found the boy, and discovered a giant spider. After a vicious fight, which tested us to our limits, the elf Goldpetal slew the spider. We slept the night in the cave, resting and recuperating after the battle. Now, we have a poisoned child to return to his adopted father, and a tribe of twenty spider-eye goblins stands between us and safety._


Dawn breaks on Vanday, the 8th of Charder.  Miriel and Goldpetal take their dawn rituals, offering thanks to Madriel and Denev, respectfully. Their prayers are particularly heartfelt after our narrow victory.

When she is finished, Miriel finds the rest of us awake as well. “Let’s head back to town,” she suggests.

As we pick up the packs we have set down, and ready ourselves for the journey, the elf, Goldpetal asks, “What about Fergus?”  Fergus MacAllister had been part of our company when we explored the ruined tower, and set out to rescue the boy. He grew frustrated with us when we were determined to attack the titan-spawn spider-goblins, and left us as we prepared to fight them. 

Miriel says, “He’s with the horses, if he’s anywhere to be found.” 

“Who cares?” asks Stone, bluntly. The pugnacious half-orc’s patience for the argumentative highlander has run out entirely.

As we head away from the cave and down the path to leave the woods, the goblins are peeking with all their eyes around the trees, watching us. We circle the web-walls of their compound cautiously, but neither side makes any move.

When we get to the path that we took into the woods, Chuck looks for Fergus’ tracks, and sees them heading back down the trail. He’s a good choice to lead, being slightly built, with dark leather armor and dark hair that make him tough to see in the woods. We all trail along behind him in single file, with Miriel watching the goblins behind us. Stone, the most muscular member of the party, walks in the middle, carrying the unconscious teenager. Paks, with her chain mail, brings up the rear in case we are attacked from behind. We hurry quickly out of sight of the goblins.

About ten minutes after we pass out of view, we hear a screeching yell from behind us. We’re perhaps a quarter of the way from the webbed enclave to the edge of the woods.

“The goblins,” Goldpetal says.

Paks looks behind her, but she can’t see them. “They sound really upset,” she says with a shudder.

“Pick up the pace everyone,” Miriel calls, and we start walking faster.

“And draw your weapons,” adds Goldpetal grimly. Everyone who carries a bow draws it.

A few minutes later, we hear the ominous beat of goblin drums war drums behind us. We walk even faster. Shortly, we hear all sorts of goblin screams and yells; from the sounds, there may be dozens of them coming after us. “Reinforcements?” Paks speculates.  

“They seek revenge for the slaying of their spider god,” says Goldpetal.

We up our pace, jogging now as quickly as we can, down the path. We can hear them crashing through the underbrush, gaining on us, but now we can see the edge of the woods. 



We reach the edge of the woods, running for the horses. We reach them just as the goblins burst out of the woods. They’re shouting angrily after us, though none of us understand the goblin-tongue. There’s a small horde of the hideous creatures, too many to count. 

“We won’t have time to mount up!” shouts Miriel. “Protect the horses!”

The goblins charge at us, the shaman in the lead. Javelin-sized spears held high, multi-faceted arachnid eyes glittering with anger, they bear down on us. We turn to face them, arranging ourselves in a line between the enemy and our horses. Chuck, and Miriel form the center of our line, with Paks and Stone together on our right, the north side, and Brunhilde and Goldpetal on the left. Behind us, the horses rear in terror, fighting against their tethers.

Paks fires her short bow at the shaman, wounding him.  Chuck and Goldpetal also aim for the shaman, but miss badly. Stone sets down the boy and loads his crossbow, while Miriel slings a bullet and hits one of the goblins on the south end. Stone fires just before the goblins reach us, wounding the goblin right in front of him.

As the goblins reach us, Paks drops her bow and steps forward. Her longsword rings as she draws it from its scabbard. She swings it at the shaman, hitting him hard. He jabs at her with his spear, and it pierces easily through the chain links of her shirt. 

Goldpetal drops his bow and rushes to meet a goblin with his scimitar, but his wild swing misses. Brunhilde engages the goblin which Miriel hit, fighting at close range with her quarterstaff, while Chucks steps back and continues firing his bow, at the same goblin.  They both miss. Suddenly, the left hand side is overrun, as three goblins attack Goldpetal, and two have reached Brunhilde. Goldpetal dodges the javelins of the first two goblins, but the third hits, wounding him badly. Brunhilde parries the blow from the first spear, but a second stabs her. Three more run past the elf and mage, heading towards our horses. Two of the horses break free and bolt.

At the right edge of our line, the goblin next to the shaman strikes at Paks. Both of his javelins pierce her side, injuring her badly. She slumps to the ground, unconscious. Another goblin reaches Stone. He steps forward, letting it stab him in the chest, and hits it with a flurry of blows. His first punch doubles it over in pain, and his uppercut crushes its skull.  The shaman steps over Paks and stabs Stone, wounding him again. The half-orc is staggering, but still on his feet.

Miriel steps back from our ragged line of battle. “Madriel!” she calls, standing over the body of the youth. “Bless my allies!” Goldpetal and Brunhilde fall back towards each other, fighting back to back in a sea of spider-eye goblins. Goldpetal cannot seem to connect with his scimitar, but Brunhilde bruises one with her quarterstaff.

Chuck draws both swords, and cuts off the three goblins that are attacking the horses. He disembowels the first with his long sword, and spins forward to the head off of the second one with his short sword. For a brief moment, he loses track of the third; it stabs him in the back. He plunges face forward as darkness overtakes him.

As if things weren’t going badly enough, they take a sudden turn for the worse. One goblin spears Brunhilde, and she collapses bleeding on the ground. Goldpetal, surrounded, is stabbed in the back; he, too, doubles over and slumps to the ground. Miriel reels with a sudden feeling of déjà vu, reliving our collapse at the hands of the ratmen. She looks right, where she sees Stone stabbed through the stomach. He falls as well. In seconds, Miriel is the only one still on her feet. In despair, she can do nothing but pray to Madriel for salvation. “My Goddess… please…”

Even before the words escape her mouth, a man appears from the edge of the woods. He raises a magnificent long bow, and aims for the shaman. He shoots two arrows in quick succession. The first penetrates through the eye of the shaman, while the second takes another goblin through the throat.  Both collapse, dead. Miriel leaps to Stone’s side, and calls, “Madriel, heal this monk.” As Stone opens his eyes, she says, “Quick! Give me your healing potion!”

The spider-eye goblins, on the verge of victory only moments before, look from the stranger to their dead shaman, and begin to bolt. Our mysterious rescuer fires several more shots at their backs, killing two more before they get deep enough into the woods to be safe from his bow.

Meanwhile, Miriel performs triage. Chuck is bleeding the worst; she administers a healing potion. Brunhilde isn’t hurt too badly, but Miriel takes a moment to bandage her wounds. Goldpetal needs the other healing potion. When she looks up for Paks, she sees the stranger expertly bandaging the mercenary’s wounds. “This won’t hold for long,” he says. “She needs healing.”


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #4: Southport. Episode 2 of 5*

Miriel has enough energy left to heal Paks’ wounds enough to get the tall woman back on her feet, and a little bit left over to bring Brunhilde back to consciousness as well. Then, she is completely exhausted. All of us are still badly wounded, and the horses are scattered, but at least the boy is safe.

Once we are all back on their feet, we take a good look at the newcomer. He’s a tall man, with broad shoulders, an olive complexion and a goatee. He wears a dark cloak under which we can see chain mail, and he wears the amber medallion of a Vigilant prominently over it. 

“My name is Jim,” he says. “As soon as I heard you guys had set off to rescue this kid, I followed as quickly as possible.”

“I’ve been looking for you!” exclaims Chuck.

Jim nods to him. “So I’d heard.”

We thank him profusely. Jim knows an herbal remedy for the spider poison, which he makes. Goldpetal watches, learning. Jim administers to the unconscious child, who begins to look much healthier as pallor returns to his cheeks.

Miriel looks around, considering everyone’s condition with her healer’s eye. “Everyone is feeling a little better,” she says, “And we don’t want to stay here, lest they return. Let’s round up the horses and ride back to Southport.” Her suggestion meets no opposition. Jim, it turns out, has a horse of his own, a large bay with a white diamond on its forehead. He rounds up the two horses which fled, and we wearily mount up to begin heading back to town. 

“Man, those spider-eye goblins are a pain in the…” Jim commiserates with us, shaking his head. 

Goldpetal spurs his horse up alongside the Vigilant. “You’ve seen them before?” he asks.

“Of course,” Jim responds. “They’re common in the Hornsaw forest, though they’re not seen around here all that often.”

“Where do they come from?”

“I don’t know,” says Jim, “As you can see, they’re unnatural, and deserve to be destroyed. If we didn’t have so many wounded to take care of, I’d go after them and kill them all.” 

Goldpetal nods approvingly. “They seemed to be worshipping some sort of spider god,” he explains.  “We killed it.” 

“Oh, no wonder they were angry,” Jim says. “I was wondering why they came after you so tenaciously. By Tanil! I didn’t realize they had a cult brewing here, so close to civilized lands. I’m going to have to tell my superiors, and we’ll have to root them out.” He looks back to everyone else, and calls, “Thanks for rescuing the kid.” When he looks back to Goldpetal, he says, more quietly, “I’m surprised you got as far as you did.” 

“The first time we attacked them, they didn’t fight much.”

“Yeah,” Jim responds, “You must have really pissed them off. They’re not usually very brave.” 

Chuck breaks into the conversation to ask, “Where are you bound, Jim?”

“I’ll accompany you guys as far as Southport,” he replies, “But I don’t want anyone to know I’m there. I’m on a secret mission, so don’t tell anyone that I’m around. You guys just take all the credit, and I’ll disappear when we get near to town.” 

“Did you see Fergus?” asks Goldpetal, who seems to be the only one really concerned about the highlander.

Jim hasn’t met Fergus, but he says, “I passed some muttering northerner. I asked him if he had seen you, but he just swore at me and stormed off. I think he muttered something like, ‘kid be damned...not attacking unarmed civilians...’ ” 

Behind them, Miriel is riding with Reginald, the child. He awakens, for the first time, and she gives him some water as we ride. Goldpetal, who had been observing Jim as he cared for Reginald, asks some questions, to learn more about the herbs. Jim gives him some tips about how to deal with spider poison. 



After an hour’s ride, Chuck rides up alongside Jim. “I’m sorry I failed in my mission,” he says humbly.

Jim responds, “Steve has taught you well, but you are not a Vigilant yet.” 

Chuck, in a quiet voice, says, “I’m so ashamed. How can I redeem myself?” 

“I’ll be in touch,” Jim tells him. “Right now, you need to go out and get some experience. You’re not even close to being ready for the Vigilant’s test.” 

Chuck and Jim ride ahead a little from the rest of us, out of hearing range, and have a long conversation on the road back to town. 

We complete the journey home without interruption.



As we approach town, Jim covers his face with his cloak and turns off into the wilderness. We ride to The Laughing Ogre. Townspeople, when they see that we have Reginald and that he is alive, start following us; word travels quickly, and by the time we reach the Inn, a large crowd has gathered. Everyone cheers as we arrive, hailing us as heroes as we walk to the inn. Fox is delighted to see Reginald safe, even if not perfectly sound. 

We take the child with us, and Miriel leads us to the temple of Madriel for some badly-needed healing. She donates fifteen gold pieces, and Chuck donates five. Fortunately, one of Madriel’s divine gifts is healing, and having rescued the boy, we don’t have to buy our healing. The priestesses cure our injuries, and set to work on the child’s poisons. While the rest of us are cared for, Miriel is taken to see Verenia, the head priestess.

Miriel tells her, “Thank you so much for the healing potion. We really needed it.” 

“You’re quite welcome,” the priestess says. “Thank you for rescuing the boy. Remember that the wedding is on Madraday, two days from now.” Miriel had, in an earlier visit, offered to help officiate a wedding. “We’re expecting you there to help with the ceremony.”

“I’ll be back even sooner than that,” Miriel tells her. “I need to do some studying tomorrow, and I’d like to help with the preparations for the wedding.” 



When everyone is well, and Chuck and Stone have been cured of the spider’s poisons, we go back to the Laughing Ogre for a late but well-deserved lunch. Fox offers us free room and board for the foreseeable future, in thanks for saving his son. 

From the moment we walk into the common room of the inn, we get a lot of attention. We’re famous at this point. We have to tell our story several times, to an ever-larger group of admiring townspeople, before lunch arrives. We are only saved from further inquiries because Saraya has already composed a song about our adventures!  She plays it while we eat; it’s quite a hit, and is requested several times by the regular patrons of the tavern. 

During our joking, jovial conversation, everyone notices that Chuck seems much lighter-hearted than he had, as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He jokes around with Stone and Paks, exchanging witticisms easily. 

As we finish the meal, Miriel suggests going to bed. After a sleepless night, this seems reasonable even though it is mid-afternoon, but we decide to divide up the treasure we’ve collected first. 

We pool everything we’ve found. Miriel casts detect magic and examines it all. “The scroll is magic, as is the dagger you found, Chuck.” 

“Duh,” he says, pulling it out slightly from its sheath. It glows brightly, and everyone in the tavern who isn’t already looking at us glances our way. He re-sheathes it quickly. 

“Here,” Miriel says, reaching out for it. “I’ll get it checked out at the temple tomorrow, to make sure it isn’t cursed.” She unrolls the scroll to look at it, but shakes her head. “I can’t make any sense out of this,” she says.

“May I?” asks Brunhilde. Miriel hands her the scroll, which she studies for a while.

Stone reaches for one of the violet gems. “Stone like colored stone,” the half-orc says. Chuck takes the other.

Paks has been counting the gold coins we found. “We each get thirteen gold,” she says. “That leaves two for the party fund.”

Brunhilde looks up from the scroll. “This is an arcane scroll, with three spells on it,” she tells us. “I’ll study it further tomorrow.”

Stone asks “So, who was that guy?”

“A Vigilant,” Goldpetal helps, stating the obvious.

Chuck noticed more. He lowers his voice; we all have to lean forward to hear him. “He had a caterpillar in his medallion, which identifies him as a member of the Acernoth Delta Vigil.  Their task is to watch the swamps and rat men.”

“What did you guys talk about?” asks Paks.

“I can’t say,” he says.



We wake around dawn on the second Corday of Charder, the ninth day of the month, well-rested after going to bed so early. We gather in the common room for breakfast. 

“You’re up early,” Fox calls jovially. He comes over to the table. “What was the deal with Fergus?” he asks.

Miriel looks at him oddly, and asks, “What do you mean?”

“He stormed into the inn a few hours before dawn, grabbed his things, tried to get some food, and stamped off, complaining about you the entire time.”

“He didn't like how we ran things,” says Miriel, politically polite.

Goldpetal adds, “He was argumentative.” 

Chuck laughs. “He had issues!”

Fox says, “Well, he’s gone.” 

“He didn’t say anything?” Chuck asks.

Fox shakes his head. “Well, we left it on bad terms. He asked if he could buy provisions, but I told him that he deserved nothing from me after refusing to rescue my son. We had further words, but nothing of any real meaning.” 

Chuck says, jokingly, “You didn’t kill him or anything?” 

Fox appears not at all amused. “No,” he says, his lips set in a grim line. 

Changing the subject, Goldpetal asks Fox if, at some time, there was a sizable population of elves in the area. He notes that there are a surprising number of half-elves but no full elves around Southport. We’ve also noticed a fair number of half-orcs, dwarves, and a few halflings, though Goldpetal doesn’t mention them. 

Saraya overhears, and is happy to share her lore. She goes into a long, involved story. The Mourning Marshes, she tells us, where all the ratmen now live, was once known as the Fertile Fields. Before the Titans’ War, it was one of the most fertile areas in the world. Some people say that this is where men and elves came into existence. The area was corrupted by Chern, god of disease and plague, and the men and elves which lived there were wiped out in the Titans’ War. 

Fox laughs. “Believe it or not,” he says, “I am one of the last princes of the House of Yorninal. Of course, my ancestral lands are now in the midst of the swamps.” 

Only Goldpetal and Chuck seem really interested in the tale. Fox takes them to his office and tells how he and a friend went to the elven ruins in the swamp to find his ancestral home. He shows them a great seal, with the crest of the House on it. Then he pulls out marvelous heirloom of his house: a sword which was clearly made by elves, of a quality that doesn’t exist today. Goldpetal had heard some of this history before, but not in this detail. 



In the middle of the long story, Miriel excuses herself, wraps up breakfast and heads over to the temple of Madriel, The First Angel of Mercy. Verenia is there, but she is very busy. She refers Miriel to some acolytes for study and preparation for the wedding. Miriel asks if she can learn to write scrolls, but is told that she’s not yet ready. 

Miriel has never performed a marriage, so she focuses on learning the rites. It seems simple enough, and she wonders why Verenia has made such a point of having her there. She does some meditation, then helps with various tasks around the temple, cleaning, cooking, lighting candles, performing the minor rites of the day.  She particularly enjoys the noon blessing to the goddess of the sun. 

In mid-afternoon, she sees Verenia again and offers to work at the temple. Verenia offers to let her stay at the temple, but Miriel quickly says she should stay with her friends at the inn, in case they have to leave on a mission at short notice. 

Verenia nods knowingly. She knows that the accommodations at the inn are much more comfortable than the spartan cells at the temple. 

While she has Verenia’s attention, Miriel asks about the dagger. Verenia casts some spells and unsheathes the dagger. It glows like torch, and would probably illuminate a dark room. Verenia says she’s not a loremaster, but it’s obviously very old and magical. She suggests that Miriel take the dagger to the weaponsmith, who might be able to tell more about it. She doesn’t detect any curses on it.



At the inn, after Fox finishes the long elven history, Goldpetal asks if anyone can teach him about local plant and animal life. Fox surprises him by referring him to Chuck. Chuck offers to give him some lessons, if Goldpetal wants to come along while he gets the gems appraised. As they walk, they compare knowledge. Chuck knows much more about the local plants and animals, but he feels that Goldpetal has seen much more of the world, and may know more in general.  

They go to Krinsa the trader, and Largo the moneychanger, in turn. Both say that the gems are amethysts. Largo, a corpulent bald man, sweaty, with greasy little fingers, offers five gold less for each gem. Finally, they visit Dusican, the jeweler, who examines the amethysts closely with his loupe. He offers one hundred and eighty gold each, matching Krinsa’s offer. 

Chuck thanks him and tries to leave, but Dusican holds him back and starts talking about how they would make nice earrings or rings, then tries to sell them other jewelry. 

“I really must be going,” Chuck excuses himself.

Dusican tries one more time to pull them back in, but they firmly step free of his shop.  He yells after them, “Come back whenever you want!” 

For a little while, they wander around the area just outside of town, looking at plants, and discussing animals and weather patterns. They explore the town a bit. There’s a river that comes in from the north, the Hornswythe River. Southport is an important trading port because seabound vessels come here to trade with other ships that go up the river. In years when hurricanes are especially bad, it can rain blood even this far north, and we’re approaching hurricane season now. Even worse than the hurricanes are the blood blizzards of winter, which everyone hopes not to see.

After this, Chuck stops by the smithy to see about getting some lighter armor made, but it’s a small town, and the local smith can’t make masterwork armor. After some exploring, Chuck heads back to the inn to take care of his weapons. 



On her way back to the inn, Miriel stops at Saylis the weaponsmith with the dagger. Gruffly complaining that she was about to close up, the dwarf is nevertheless willing to help. She takes the sheathed dagger and pulls it out. She examines the shining dagger very closely, and tells Miriel that it’s obviously magical, a very fine weapon, very ancient, possibly from before the Titans’ War.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #4: Southpot. Episode 3 of 5*

By late afternoon, all of us are back at the inn. The injured members of the party have come down for an evening meal, looking much better for the day’s rest.  

We start talking to Fox about the job Grilliam offered. Mostly, we want to know what's been going on in the area that we might have to deal with. He tells us that there has always been a lot of smuggling, every couple of years the rat men have to be put down, occasionally there are goblins, and to the west, war is brewing with Calastia, which means there are fewer troops to guard the town against invasions of Titanspawn. 

Miriel says that we want to help the town, but that we could definitely use some experienced help. Fox says that the men of the garrison are good, and Lamarack is a fine commander, but there really aren't a lot of adventurers in town, and, indeed, most of those that have come through have already joined us. He suggests we might find others down around the wharf, if there are any more. He and Grilliam and Verenia, who are from the previous generation of adventurers, don't really go out anymore, as they now stay to govern the town. 

Miriel asks what the government is like. Fox says that there's the Vesh governor, but he is far away, and the town is really run by the council. He also says that when very bad things are going on, eventually adventurers or special forces such as the Vigilants will show up. 

Goldpetal asks how long it's been since a druid passed through town. Fox says that there is one every once in a while, but druids don't really like towns, even though they are not unwelcome here. There are some who are seen out in the woods, and the farmers respect and appreciate them, as they make the land healthier. 

At this point, Fox says “Oh, I just remembered! Grilliam sent a message, asking you to come see him.” Fox starts going on a bit about how Grilliam is just one member of the council, not the mayor or anything, but he acts as a leader when the town needs one. Fox implies that Grilliam has gotten kind of stuffy since their younger days. 

We all get up to go to talk to Grilliam, when Chuck, Miriel, and Goldpetal notice a weird coincidence - there is a halfling at the next table over.  They’ve seen him several times at the bar, Miriel saw him at the temple, and Chuck and Goldpetal saw him at the jeweler’s. By the time they have compared notes, he is gone.  



When the five of us get to the temple of Hedrada, we go through the usual process of going from the Gatekeeper to the Greeter, and manage to sidestep the Tour Guide. We are taken in to see Grilliam, who is very busy, as usual, but takes time to talk to us. 

“You sent for us?” asks Stone.

“Will you accept my offer?” Grilliam inquires. “That’s ten platinum, in advance, to be my eyes and ears.” 

Stone nods once, firmly. “I accept.” 

The rest of us are not sure. Goldpetal asks, “Would we be working for the town or for the temple of Hedrada?” 

Grilliam says, “For me.” 

“Under the auspices of the god Hedrada?”

“Yes,” Grilliam answers, “But fully sanctioned by the town Council, of course." 

Miriel says “I will accept your job,” and Paks nods in agreement. 

Goldpetal is not yet convinced. “How long would we be accepting the job for?”

“At least as long as it takes to sort out the smuggling situation. Who is coming in with goods, and where are they taking them? What are those sheets of paper you found about? 

“Also, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is, Delonia escaped - she charmed some of Lamarack’s constables and they let her go. We think she’s hiding out in town, and the guards are performing a thorough search, but they haven’t found her. There aren’t any tracks into the wilderness.” 

Chuck asks, “Might she have left by sea?” 

“I don’t know. Possibly. It would be good if you could find her, too. We did question the other smugglers. They were selling slaves to the ratmen in exchange for poison. Everyone knows the ratmen like human slaves. They’ll be tried fully quite soon.” 

Goldpetal looks perturbed by this statement. “They confessed,” he says. “What do you need a trial for?” 

“We must follow the laws,” the priest of Justice explains. 

“What was the good news?” asks Paks.

“We got the name of her contact with the Slytherin.” The name he gives us sounds like “Sea-Sea”, but as we learn later, is spelled SySy.

Chuck changes the subject. “Did you send anyone to the tower?”

“No.” Grilliam looks at him as though he is daft. “Didn’t you clear it out?” 

“Sure,” Chuck explains, “But obviously someone will be returning.” 

Grilliam says nothing to this.  After a moment’s contemplative silence, he suggests, “You might try to decipher that parchment you found in the tower.” 

“I’d been thinking about that.” Miriel, who had been quietly observing the conversation, speaks up. “We found a lantern; they’re probably lantern signals.”

“Good thinking,” says Grilliam. “Maybe the Harbormaster, Follisan, can help you with that.” 

“Chuck was planning to go down to the docks,” Miriel says. “He might get some information at an inn down there.” 

“He should try the Conch and Trident; it’s a popular inn near the docks.”  He looks at Miriel, and adds, “But I think it’s too rough for a girl like you.” 

Chuck asks, “Would the Harbormaster be in his office right now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t keep tabs on him.” 

Chuck asks, hopefully, “If we accept the job, we get 10 platinum each, right?” 

Grilliam gives him a stern look, that suggests he ought not be trifled with. “No. Ten for all of you.” 

We all finally accept the job. Splitting our reward, ten gold coins each, and the advance on our new commission, we wind up with sixteen apiece, plus four more for the party fund. 



As we leave the temple of Hedrada, we discuss our next steps. After some discussion, Chuck goes down to the harbor alone. Miriel and Goldpetal don’t feel it would be safe for either of them, and Paks promises Stone that she’ll buy him a drink if he goes back to Fox’s inn and rests some more, no matter how much he wants to accompany Chuck. Goldpetal asks Chuck to ask about or look for tattoo artists, especially elven ones. Chuck takes a copy of the parchment with the signals on it (but not the ‘A’ it is signed with), leaving the originals with Miriel. The others head back to the Laughing Ogre with Chuck’s pack, and all his money except some silver and copper. 

Chuck decides to try to find the harbormaster first. After crossing the market square, he finds himself in a much seedier area than those he has so far explored in the town. There are a lot of old warehouses, with bars on the upper floors. As it gets darker, activity in the area picks up; there are a lot of carousing sailors in town. Given that this is the beginning of the week, the area must be really wild on the weekends. He passes some women of ill repute, and quite a few longshoremen. 

When he finds the Harbormaster’s office, it has already closed for the evening. He asks a passerby where the Harbormaster might be, and also where he might find a tattoo artist. He’s told that the Harbormaster is probably at the Conch, and that he’s already passed several tattoo shops, most of which were already closed for the night. He’s pointed at one which is still open, just across the way. Within, he sees a drunken sailor getting two crossed anchors with “MOM” across them tattooed onto his upper arm. He doesn’t think this place is what Goldpetal was looking for. 

The buildings in this area are densely packed and haphazardly arranged. There are a lot of alleys, and he’s directed into one of these when he asks about the Conch and Trident. 



The Conch and Trident is hard to miss. It has a large sign, with a straightforward graphic of a conch with a trident superimposed. The sign is swinging slightly, squeaking in the wind off the water front. Even from the street, he can hear the noise of the patrons within.

As he walks in, he sees a big room, dark and smoky, and crowded with sailors and longshoremen. There are many large, rough-looking men, and everyone seems to be drinking. As the door closes behind him, he hears a loud shriek, and the sounds of glass breaking. No one else seems to pay attention, so he ignores it, too. 

Chuck walks up to the bar, trying to act casual, but staying alert. The bartender is an ugly half-orc, and is easily the largest man in the room. Chuck orders a tankard of ale, paying for it with a piece of silver. Though this is an enormous overpayment, the bartender returns no change, saying, “Thanks, mate.” 

Chuck asks him about the Harbormaster. 

“He left already,” grunts the bartender. “Probably went home. He’s getting old, has a wife and kids. Anyway, he had quite a night last night - it was Vansday.” That is the day of Vangal, the god of chaos and havoc, so his day is always a heavy drinking day. 

Chuck looks around the bar as he’s drinking his ale. He sees about what he would expect; plenty of fishermen and some women of ill repute. For a moment he thinks he catches sight of the same halfling he had noticed earlier in the day, but when he gets a closer look, it isn’t the halfling he thought it was. 

Chuck looks around for a “friendly” game of dice. He sees a heated game in one corner and goes over to watch. They’re playing a game he knows, _Cojones_. There are some silver pieces on the table, and everyone is drinking. Chuck asks if he can join the game and they welcome him - for five silver pieces. He checks out the pot and it looks reasonable. He learns that they’re a bunch of sailors who just got off a boat, on a long cruise from Hedrad. They’ve been at sea for a few weeks. 

When it’s Chuck’s first turn to roll, he breaks even. He makes friendly conversation; they seem nice enough, but he’s a landlubber, and they clearly think they’re going to take him. They tell him newcomers have to buy drinks for the table. With all his silver tied up in the game, and his gold at home, Chuck can’t afford to. Thinking quickly, he says, “I’ll roll ya’ for it.” The first roll is a tie, but on the second, Chuck wins. The sailor who spoke buys a round of beer. There’s more drinking and dicing, but Chuck tries to cut off the alcohol after his second drink. 

It’s a doomed effort. After his next roll, where he breaks even, a drunken sailor comes up to him. “Aren’t you that hero guy? Didn’t you rescue that kid?” Before Chuck can deflect his enthusiasm, the sailor insists, “Hey, lemme buy you a drink!” He comes back with strong grog. Now the sailors want to hear the story. Chuck tells it as drinks. As he tells the story, he wins steadily, winding up three silver ahead. The sailors are impressed with the tale; they pat him in the back and buy him another drink. 

He has somehow become the hero of the bar, everyone wants to buy him a drink. He can tell that he’s getting drunk, and the bar is getting even rowdier as the evening wears on. 

Eventually, Chuck pulls out the copy of the parchment and asks the sailors about the signals. 

One of the sailors says, “Ah, these be seamen’s signals. Everyone knows these.” 

Chuck, slurring his words, says, “ ’M no sailor.” 

“I knew that,” the sailor says. “Look, these dashes are long flashes. This is an X; it stands for a short flash.” They give him the beats for the spacing of the flashes, it takes him a while to learn in his inebriated state. When he gets it down, the sailor orders him another drink.

The signals are:
I: *-XXX*: is it clear?
II: *X-X-*: affirmative; coast clear
III: *---*: message received; on our way
IV: *X-X-*: affirmative; coast clear​Chuck, studies the signals blearily. “Wait a second! Why are there two ‘coast clear’ messages?” 

His new friend explains, “Oh, that be standard sailor stuff. To be sure the message got through.” 

Chuck thanks him, and tries to bow out of the table. One of the other sailors insists, “You can’t leave, play some more!” 

Chuck bets all of his winnings on his next roll, and wins again, winning five more silver. He once again tries to collect his winnings and leave, but as he has not lost once, he gets accused of cheating! One of the men at the table pulls out a dagger and threatens him, while another objects that he couldn’t be cheating, he’s a hero. As if everyone was just waiting for an excuse, the inevitable bar brawl ensues. 

The table is flipped over and all the silver goes flying. The beer is spilled everywhere. Someone pushes someone, someone else draws a knife. Fortunately, the two with knives go at each other, and not after Chuck. As he backs away, he gets hit on the head by a chair. The bartender gets up on the bar, pulls out a big club, and starts knocking heads. 

Chuck tries to make it out of the bar through the mayhem. He ducks swinging glasses, chairs, and the club the bartender is swinging, but as he nears the doorway, he is hit in the head by a glass and knocked down. 

As he pushes himself up onto all fours, he is grabbed from behind and stabbed in the kidney! He hears someone whisper in his ear, through the din of the fight, “This is for the tower!” He slumps to the floor, bleeding profusely. 

When people realize that he’s bleeding, the brawl begins to subside. The people around him clear a space, inching out the door. The bartender grabs a vial and pours it in Chuck’s mouth. Though he feels better, he’s still bleeding. 

“Who stabbed him?” roars the bartender. “That’s it! We’re closed!” 

Chuck, reeling from the shock of the wound, thinks he might have seen a halfling from the corner of his eye. He forgets this as a man in a hooded clock comes over, bends over him, and tells the bartender. “I’m a friend, I can take it from here.”


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #4: Southport. Episode 4 of 5*

Chuck looks up at the hooded figure, and recognizes Jim, the Vigilant. Jim winks at him. As he starts to bandage Chuck’s wounds, he shakes his head paternally. “Chuck, Chuck... it’s too bad Steve isn’t here to take care of you.” 

Jim binds Chuck’s wounds and takes him to an apartment nearby, where he heals him further. Chuck takes the dagger, which was still in his back when they left the bar. Examining it, he sees that it has an interesting seal on the hilt. The hilt has a stylized A, just like the one on the parchment. 

He tells Jim about the parchment, and how he questioned the sailors to find out about it. 

“Yes,” Jim says. “I saw you in the bar. That wasn’t too suave. You’re not going to get to be a Vigilant that way. Maybe you shouldn’t have won so much, or been so obvious in asking questions.” Though he clearly feels that Chuck needs a talking-to about his behavior, he cannot disguise the fondness in his voice. 

Chuck asks Jim if he has any more information. Jim asks him about signals, and Chuck tells him everything he knows about the parchment, signals, and map. When Chuck shows him the stylized A on the dagger, and asks about it, Jim answers, “That doesn’t bode well. It’s the symbol of the House of Asuras.” 

Chuck, looking unenlightened, asks him, “Who are they?” 

Jim seems surprised at that question. “They’re the most powerful merchant family in the world. They back both legitimate and illegitimate businesses throughout the world.” 

“Would they deal in poison for slaves? Grilliam told us that’s what the smugglers we found were up to.” 

“Poison for slaves?” Jim asks, getting a dark, foreboding look on his face. “I think I have to get involved here.” He thinks for a moment. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll signal to them from shore, ambush them, rescue the slaves, and capture the leaders.” 

"We've already agreed to do this for the town elders," Chuck informs him.

Jim nods. “I heard about Delonia’s escape. I can’t believe Lamarack is such a fool as to not gag her! What was he thinking?” As though it were a pejorative, he adds, “Civilians.” 

There doesn’t seem to be much Chuck can say to this, and he’s fading quickly. Jim doesn’t volunteer any more, seeming lost in his own thoughts.  Finally, Chuck says, “The new moon is in two days. I should get back to the inn tonight.” 

“I’ll stay hidden until we’re ready to leave for the tower.” 

“Should I meet you here?” 

“No,” Jim tells him. “I’ll meet you at noon on the day before the new moon, about a mile south of town on the road to the tower.”

“Thanks, Joe.” 

Jim looks at him sharply. “That’s Jim... Jim.”

Chuck puts his head in his hands. “Sorry, I really had too much to drink.” 

Jim casts a quick spell, and Chuck is instantly sober – and hung over. 

“I should go find a healer,” Chuck says. “Miriel will take care of this.” It isn’t clear whether he means the stab wound, or his sudden, pounding headache. 

The older Vigilant scoffs at the suggestion that Chuck might head back to the Laughing Ogre by himself. “You’d better stay here tonight.” 

“Okay,” Chuck says, “But I think I could have made it.” 

“The person who stabbed you might still be out there,” Jim says. “Do you know you've been followed all day by a halfling?” 

Chuck says, “Yeah, I’ve seen him.” 

“He’s a wily little weasel,” Jim says.  “I keep trying to grab him, but every time I look he’s not there. He’s pretty good, but I’m going to catch that little rat and wring out what his deal is. We have ways of making those pipsqueaks talk.” Before he has finished his words, Chuck is asleep, exhausted from the drinking and his wound. 



The next morning, Madraday, the 10th of Charder, Goldpetal wakes us all up shortly after sunrise. He is worried that Chuck didn’t come back, and insists that we need to find him. Stone says he knew he should have gone with Chuck. Miriel has already left to go to the temple of Madriel for the wedding. Goldpetal says he’ll go ask Grilliam to send someone, while Paks and Stone go search the docks, since the elf doesn’t feel safe braving the wharf area.

Goldpetal goes to the temple of Hedrada. He explains to Grilliam, but the priest clearly doesn’t think much of Chuck, and seems to think even less of Goldpetal. He brushes off the elf’s concern, saying he doesn’t have time to hunt down every man in town who stayed out all night. He suggests that Chuck is probably just sleeping it off somewhere, after spending the ten platinum he got yesterday.

Frustrated, the elf leaves, returning to our inn. He asks about to see if he can find a grove of trees, and learns from some farmers taking breakfast that there is a shrine to Denev about a half mile out of town. Many farmers worship there, he is informed. 

Goldpetal finds the shrine, a simple stone shrine, properly consecrated. It’s clearly well-kept and, as the harvest is coming up, there’s quite a bit of food left there for offerings. Goldpetal performs his customary rituals with pleasure.  

Paks and Stone check around the better parts of town for Chuck, first. He is not at any of our usual haunts, and nobody seems to have seen him. They head down to the wharf area, where they visit the Harbormaster, Follisan. Though sympathetic, he hasn’t seen Chuck, but directs them to The Conch and Trident. When they find the inn, it is closed. When they ask strangers if anyone has seen Chuck, they meet cold, unsmiling faces, and get no answers. Finally, they give up without success, heading back to The Laughing Ogre, arriving shortly after the elf left.



Miriel arrives at the temple of Madriel in time to join the dawn rites which celebrate Madraday. She has painstakingly cleaned her traveler’s cloak, and the hand-embroidered pattern of silk peacock feathers stands out in the rays of the sun. Verenia is similarly attired. 

Afterwards, the temple hums with activity, as people bustle about, preparing for the ceremony. The wedding will begin before noon, with the climax at high noon. Miriel helps with the preparations, then joins the other priestesses in a purifying bath.

A sizeable crowd of guests has arrived for the ceremony; townspeople and farm folk from all around the area. The priestesses and Miriel arrange themselves in a circle around the bride and groom, holding hands. Miriel, Verenia, and another priestess are at the top of the circle, near a little shrine of Madriel, while young acolytes stand at the opposite side. 

Verenia tells a little story about how marriage came to be. After the Titans’ War, she tells, Madriel gave divine marriage to people as a gift for supporting the gods in the war. Marriage is to bring stability, happiness, light, fertility, and love for the peoples of the world.

The priestesses link hands. Verenia invokes Madriel and chants, while the bride and groom hold hands and make their vows to each other. A priestess leads the bride and groom through more vows, these in honor of Madriel. 

As the ceremony reaches a climax, Miriel can feel power flowing through her into the ceremony, as from the other priestesses. She can sense a surprisingly large amount of power coming from Verenia; this is a very powerful blessing on the bride and groom. The ceremony ends precisely at noon, with the bride and groom pledged to each other. Miriel feels very drained, but happy to have participated. 

After the wedding, there is a bountiful celebratory feast. Miriel is seated in one of the three seats of honor reserved for the priestesses. By tradition, there is also an empty seat reserved for Madriel, who sometimes sends one of her avatars to attend the most special of ceremonies. The feast lasts all day. A few people come over to thank Miriel for her work in rescuing Reginald and to express their appreciation of having our group in the town. The bride and groom are thrilled that a hero of Southport was there to bless them.



_The Hornswythe River flows south to the Blood Sea. Long before it reaches Southport, before it reaches Lave, it passes through Mollis Town. There, an old mage regards his apprentice.

“I have a task for you,” he says. “We are out of glitter ink, and none here in town have been selling it. Do you remember the mage, Delmeron?”

The apprentice well remembers Delmeron; he was with his master when they last dealt with the wizard. He was not pleasant, and it is rumored that he deals in the magic which draws its energy from death. He nods reluctantly.

“I have heard that he either has, or knows how to obtain, this ink. As you have been my apprentice these past two years, I think it is time that you begin to travel outside of these walls. Telryn, you shall go and find Delmeron; bring back a year’s supply of glitter ink.”

Telryn smiles, his fear of Delmeron overcome by the exciting prospect of travel.

“I will give you money for the ink, and some additional for your supplies and expenses.”_


----------



## Amaroq

*BONUS INSERT: A brief history*

Paks finds Saraya in the court of the inn with a group of children, teaching them the history of the Titan’s War. She sits and listens.

“Before the Gods,” Saraya tells the youngsters, “There were the Titans. Great elemental powers, they were, and you children should not speak their names. 

“In the Time Before, all the world was covered by water. Then came the titan Kadum. Out of stone, he crafted all the lands, gouging great trenches in the ocean floor and lifting vast continents above the waves. 

“Then came Gormoth, who created the plants and animals upon the land. He was not benevolent; his creations were his servants. When they say what he had wrought, however, the other Titans became jealous. Though they also attempted to create life, and some succeeded, none were able to create the equal of Gormoth’s creations. In anger, then, Mormo, the Mother of Serpents, poisoned Gormoth. Though horribly wounded, he could not die. Horribly tortured, he divulged his secrets, and the other Titans learned to craft their own beings. He became known as the Writhing Lord.

“The other Titans turned away from Gormoth to practice their new art. Golthain discovered that some of the beings had feelings and thoughts. He nurtured the races, gathering up those cast off by his fellow Titans and gifting them with sanctuary. His creatures, including we humans, prospered. When this was discovered, he was punished by the other Titans, who blinded him and deprived him of his other senses, and destroyed many of his children.

“The other Titans had learned to have children, however: and from their children were the Gods. Vangal was the eldest of the gods, wrought by Chern, Thulkas, and Lethene. Two of the female Titans, Gulaben and Lethene, bore Enkili the trickster. The other Titans had children in the normal way. Denev the Earth Mother had three children: Corean, son of Kadum; Hedrada, son of Golthain; and Tanil, daughter of Hrinruuk. Mormo, the Mother of Serpents, also had three children: Chardun, son of Gormoth; and the twins, Belsameth and Madriel, daughters of Mesos, the Sire of Sorcery.”

One of the children had started speaking to his neighbor, and Saraya stopped to stare at him. He stopped, blushing. “Whose telling this story, you or me?” she asks, her eyes laughing despite her stern tone.  

“So,” she continues, when she has silence again, “Golthagga took many of the creatures which were created, changing them and crossing them with others. Thus he earned the name “The Shaper”, as he created many of the strangest creatures: creatures half owl and half bear, creatures with the head and body of a lion, but the wings of a great eagle. Corean learned the art of forging from Golthagga, and the dwarves tell that they learned their smithing from him as well.

“I will not tell you children of the years which followed; you are too young, and what little is known is terrifying. You need only know that over many Epochs, the Titans nearly destroyed the mortal races: Chern with his great plagues; Gaurak with gluttonous insects; the Serpent Queen with poisons; Lethene, when she blanketed the earth in darkness; Gulaben’s ice age; the Fire of Thulkas; and the many predators unleashed by Hrinruuk the Hunter.

“Finally, Mesos, the Six-Armed One, taught the mortals the arcane arts. Previously, only sorcerers had access to the arcane, thanks to their titan blood; now, Mesos taught wizards. This was not good, or evil, by itself: for every good wizard, there was also a necromancer. However, the rise of arcane magic allowed us mortals to discover the Gods. 

“Many had worshipped the Titans, but the Titans spurned their worship. The Gods accepted worship, and in fact seemed to seek it. As the divine races worshipped them, they grew in power, eventually gaining enough strength to appear visibly on the earth. Seeing the way in which the Titans treated the divine races with such disregard, and hearing the many prayers of their supplicants, the Gods turned upon the Titans, and the Titans’ War began.
“
Great armies marched across the land, while Gods and Titans strove against each other. Great civilizations were destroyed, lands were knocked into the sea, and great mountain ranges grew where once there had been plains. The very Sands of Time were stilled, I know not how. The key to victory, however, was that the Titans were unable to work together, while the Gods made alliances, and strove together against them. Finally, Denev the Earth Mother sided with her children, and eventually the other Titans were struck down, one by one.”

The children cheer. 

“They could not be killed, remember,” she says, “But each was trapped for eternity in different ways. Beneath the Mourning Marshes, forty miles south of us, Chern is entombed, which makes it a festering stinking wasteland, filled with disease. The Blood Sea runs red with the blood of Kadum, who is imprisoned beneath its surface. 

“With the defeat of the last Titan, the world was suddenly silent. Battles taking place at that very moment stilled, storms quieted, and fires seemed to pause and wait. Then, the Gods began The Great Remaking.

“Madriel started the sun along its course through the skies, while Belsameth did likewise with the moon. Chardun bound the seasons with chains, balancing winter with summer, and ordaining that each shall give way to the next in its time. Vangal rekindled the fires of the earth, while Corean plucked sparks from his Forge to light the stars and Enkili restored the winds to their courses. 

“Denev was horribly wounded from the war, and Tanil helped her mother to lay down within the earth. She made a solemn oath that she would look after the plants and animals while she rested.

“When all was ready, Hedrada touched his Hammer of Law to the Hourglass of the All, and set the Sands of Time in motion again. And that, children, was only one hundred and fifty years ago; it is that day from which we mark our calendar.”

The children look suitably impressed. One child, however, the one who had spoken before, and been chastised, raises his hand in tentative question. “So what’s a titanspawn?” he asks.

Saraya smiles at him. “Some think,” she tells him, “That it means ‘a creature created by the Titans.’ But all creatures were created by one of the Titans. It has come to mean, ‘one who worships the Titans,’ as opposed to we, ‘the divine races,’ who worship the Gods. You should not speak it, especially around the elves, for they worship Denev, and hear it as a slur. And you do not want to make an elf angry.”


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #4: Southport. Episode 5 of 5*

Chuck wakes up in an empty apartment. He feels hot, and very thirsty. His stomach roils from the ill effects of the night before, but at least his headache is gone. From the light slanting in through the slats of the shutters, he judges that it is late afternoon. Jim is nowhere to be seen, so he pokes around a little bit. He finds a note from Jim, some bread, and a half-round of cheese. The note reminds him of the meeting and warns him to keep an eye out for the halfling. Chuck takes the bread and cheese, and heads back to inn, eating on the way. 

Chuck gets back to the inn without incident. He looks battered and ill. Rian, the innkeeper’s daughter, reacts with solicitous concern, summoning the cook and Paks. Together, Rian and Paks help him upstairs to bed. He asks where Goldpetal is, but seems too weak to understand the answer when Paks tells him that the elf is looking for the shrine of Denev.  

When Miriel gets back to the inn, after the festival, Paks asks her to check on him. Miriel finds Chuck wretchedly sick, and she runs back to the temple to fetch a healer. The healer ministers to Chuck, and Madriel cures his disease. Within minutes, he is feeling completely healthy. In return, he gives the healer a generous donation. She thanks him very much and takes her leave. 



Goldpetal returns to the inn after sunset, and tells the rest of the group that he plans to spend his nights in the forest; he’ll show us where so that we can find him if we need him. He does stay for dinner and drinks with the group, as we discuss what we’ve learned.

Chuck tells us how we're supposed to meet Jim on the path to tower on the 12th. He also tells us about his experiences at the bar (“Ow!”) and shows us all the dagger. He asks Miriel for the parchment to confirm that the symbol is the same, and he explains the signals. He tells us of Jim’s plan to trick the smugglers, and how he lost his money and the copy of the signals while he was gambling. Goldpetal suggests talking to someone to learn more signals, and Chuck says he still plans to find the Harbormaster, but that he’ll need someone to go with him - maybe Stone will be able to go tomorrow. 

“Did you see the halfling?” asks Miriel.

“No,” he answers, “But Jim saw him following me all day, and warned me to look out.”

We have some dinner; Fox eats with us. We tell him about our various adventures of the day. Chuck asks about the seaman’s signals, but Fox has never spent much time on the water and doesn’t know them. 

Goldpetal and Chuck surreptitiously look for the halfling, but neither sees anything. Chuck asks Fox, “We’re looking for a halfling. Have you seen one?”

“No,” Fox says, “But I’ll keep an eye out. I like ’em, they drink and eat a lot.” 

Saraya has become the house bard. The old house bard wasn’t very good, and couldn’t compete with her. Everyone clamors for the Goblin Hero song and buys us drinks. 

After finishing our lay, Saraya launches into an interesting ballad. On the surface, it sounds like many love songs we’ve heard before, but it carries an analogy to the current political situation. A Veshian girl has lost their heart to a callow Callastian youth; in other songs, both would be Veshian, or both Callastian. As the song proceeds, it turns out that the Callastian youth just pretends to care about others, and the Veshian girl gets her heart broken. Some patrons in the bar clearly get the cautionary point, and there are mutterings about how Vesh may get its heart broken. 

We ask Fox about Callastians, and he tells us about the House of Asuras. “They are well known for trading in illegal goods,” he tells us. “The head of the house, Telos Asuras, is at least a hundred years old now, but still runs things actively. He has an enormous family, with over two hundred children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, throughout the continent. The family has powerful chapters in every big city.” 

“Is there a family chapter in Southport?” asks Goldpetal, his purple eyes flashing.

“There is not,” Fox says, “But their agents come to town occasionally.” 

Chuck tells Fox about the bar fight and the symbol on the dagger. Fox shakes his head. “It could have been them,” he says, “But it also could have been someone else. I hope, for your sake, it was someone else. House Asuras is very powerful and influential, and are not a good enemy to make.” 

“Could someone be trying to frame them?” asks Chuck. 

“It could be. I’ll keep my ears open, for you,” Fox promises.

The rest of the evening passes quietly, and we go to bed early after our long days. 



The next day is Taniday, the 11th day of Charder. Chuck plans to go get the dagger appraised. He asks Fox to come down to the docks with him, and Fox agrees enthusiastically; he doesn’t get out as much as he used to. He goes back to his office, gets a dagger from his desk drawer, and slips it into his boot. 

They reach the Harbormaster’s office with no trouble. The docks are bustling with activity in the morning, with lots of boats being loaded and unloaded. They find the Harbormaster’s office, easily enough, but are told that Follisan is very busy. They have to wait quite a while for an audience. 

When Follisan is free, they are ushered into his office. “Fox!” the old salt exclaims. “How have you been?”

“Well enough, well enough. My friend, Chuck, here would like to be instructed in seamen’s signals.”

“Well now,” Follisan says, eyeing Chuck dubiously. With his leather armor, and two swords at his belt, the Vigilant does not look much like a soldier. “There are a lot of signals, and it takes a long time to learn them. They aren’t written down in books, son. This is seamen’s lore.”

“All I really want is to learn this sheet,” Chuck says, offering the original copy of the signals. 

Follisan confirms the original interpretation, including the repetition of the ‘All clear.’ He wanders around the subject a bit more, but the long and short of it is that he is not willing to teach more. “The signals on the sheet are really all a landlubber like yourself should need, but if you really want to learn, you could sign up on a boat.” 

“Thanks,” Chuck says dryly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“You’d best,” Follisan says warningly. “If you keep drinking like you did the other night, you’re going to pass out at the Conch and wind up on a boat anyway.”

Chuck shakes his head. 

“It’s not a good idea to win too much, at first,” Follisan says, and clearly he knows much of Chuck’s activities at The Conch and Trident. 

“I tried!” Chuck exclaims. “I can’t help how the dice fall.”

Follisan raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “If you two will excuse me, I have a great deal to do today.”



As they leave Follisan’s office, Chuck and Fox see the mysterious halfling loitering about. 

Chuck yells, “Hey, you!” The halfling acts casual, and pretends not to notice. “You, sir,” Chuck shouts, walking towards him, with Fox behind. “Halfling!” 

“Me?” asks the halfling, looking about as though Chuck must certainly mean somebody else. “What do you want?” 

Chuck is now within a few feet of him, and looks him over. The halfling appears to have leather armor on beneath a cloak. Like all of his race, he is about the size of a child, little more than waist high on the Vigilant. His brown hair is short and tousled. “I’ve been seeing you around a lot,” Chuck says.

“I don’t know what you mean,” says the halfling, smiling disarmingly. “I’m just going about my daily business.” 

“Sure...” Chuck sneers. “Would you like to come to the inn this evening and join us for a drink?” 

“Really, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the halfling protests. “I don’t have time for this!” He turns on one heel and stalks away indignantly. Chuck watches him go, without following.



When Chuck and Fox return to the inn, Goldpetal invites Chuck up to the shrine he has found. They’ve bonded well, in the last few days, even though they have differences in religion. Goldpetal worships Denev, the Earth Mother. Chuck, like most Vigilants, worships her daughter, Tanil the Huntress, goddess of good luck. Chuck takes Goldpetal’s invitation as a sign of great trust between them.  

Miriel spends a quiet day helping around the temple, which is much appreciated by the priestesses.

That evening, we gather at the Laughing Ogre for dinner. Paks and Stone are feeling much better, and quite ready to set out on our task the next day.

Miriel shows the map we found at the tower to Fox. He points out a number of features on the map; we’d already recognized Southport, the tower, the Spiderwood, and the Mourning Marsh. It shows a path running west from the tower to a circle, which none of us recognize, and then south from that into the Marsh. “Those,” the half-elf tells us, “Are a great circle of standing stones, which local legend says were once dedicated to the Titans. They stand on a great hill, overlooking much of the land between these hills…” He traces a line of hills, not marked on the map, which run east to west behind the Spiderwood. “… and the Marsh.”

Goldpetal seems very interested when Fox mentions the standing stones. “How long have they been abandoned?” he inquires. 
“Since the Titans’ War, naturally,” Fox says. “No people worship there now.” 

Goldpetal looks at the rest of us. “We should check it out,” he says firmly.

“Beyond,” Fox says, “A few hours’ ride, you would come to Kratys Freehold.” He points at a spot west of the standing stones. “They’re good folks.” 

Miriel looks up at him. “What about SySy? Have you ever heard the name?” 

“SySy sounds like a female name,” Fox says thoughtfully, “Possibly Slytherin. There’s an old swamp hag who lives over closer to the shore. I don’t know her name, but that might be her.” 

“Were there goblins who used to live near here?” asks Goldpetal. 

“Well,” Fox says thoughtfully, “I’ve seen those spider-eyed goblins before...” 

“What about regular goblins?” 

“Sure,” Fox says with a shrug. “They’re everywhere. They breed like cockroaches, so even when you haven’t seen any for a while, suddenly they’re everywhere.” 

“In town?” the elf asks with keen intent. 

Fox shakes his head. “Not that I know of. Once in a while those spider-eyed goblins come up to the Spiderwood. I’ve fought them before. The ones you encountered sounded kind of small, actually.” 

“They looked big enough to me,” Paks whispers to Chuck, shaking her head at the memory.

Goldpetal says, “There are still some in the forest.” 

“Well, their Shaman is dead,” Miriel points out, “But we might want to check it out, when we’re done at the tower.” 

“Indeed, they’re never up to any good.” Fox says.  He looks at Paks and says, “You know they weren’t going to live up to their bargain with you.” 

Paks shakes her head.  Goldpetal asks, “Really?”

Fox looks like he despises the goblins. “They can’t be trusted.” 

We tell Fox the general plan, not mentioning Jim. We plan to go talk to Grilliam in the morning before we go. 

As the rest of us head upstairs to bed, Goldpetal goes out of town to mediate, saying he will be back a little after sunrise.


----------



## Amaroq

*Coming up*

I'll be out of town through Christmas, so that will have to tide you through the holidays; next post will be near New Year's.

Coming in Issue #5: Verenia's Prophecy....  and the plot speeds up...


----------



## Broccli_Head

Thanks a lot of the history of the Titan's War. I've read it before, but always enjoy a retelling. 

....noticed Kratys Freehold....  

I am really enjoying the story, btw. Never played in the Scarred Lands, but I really like the setting. I have Ghelspad and Termana, R&R I, CC 1&2, D&D, Mithral and Hollowfaust. Unfortunately, we have so many games right now. So many games...so little time....


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Bump so that you can find it to post the promised New Year's update.


----------



## Amaroq

Laugh! I'm back. Thanks for the bump! I do keep it bookmarked, so I can always find it.   

That retelling of the Titan's War is fairly a paraphrase from the Ghelspad book, I tried to put it in character, knowing that not everybody is familiar with every campaign setting.

Kratys Freehold - yes! That's one fun thing about writing these from so far in the "future", as it were - I can try and build a little foreshadowing into it.

Here's the next issue - Happy New Year, everybody!


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #5: The Smugglers, Episode 1 of 5*

16th of June, 2002​
*Issue #5*

*The Smugglers*​

_After rescuing Fox’s son, Reginald, from the spider goblins, we return to our investigation of the tower. 

We spent several days in Southport, learning what we could. We have learned the secret of the lights, that they were signals from a group of bandits on land to smugglers on board a ship. The smugglers are selling people to slavery at the hands of the ratmen, exchanging human slaves for ratman poisons. We have a plan to stop them. 

Chuck has met another Vigilant, Jim, who rescued us when the spider goblins threatened to overwhelm us. He is keeping his identity concealed in town, but helped nurse Chuck back to health when the youth was stabbed in a bar fight. When he learned of the smuggling scheme, he offered to meet us outside of town and join us in trying to halt the smuggling._


It is shortly after dawn on Hedraday, the 12th of Charder, 150 AV. We are gathered at the Laughing Ogre Inn for an early breakfast. We have been resting, for the most part, for three days, and everyone is fully recovered. 

Chuck, the young Vigilant, explains the plan to those who have not yet heard it. He keeps his voice low, lest we be overheard. “We’re meeting Jim outside of town,” he tells us, “And going back to the tower to the south. When we get there, we’re going to try and use the signal lantern, pretending to be that mage, Delonia, and her cronies, so that we can lure the smugglers to land and capture them.”

Brunhilde, the tall, loud, red-headed mage who helped us rescue Reginald, shakes her head. “I am afraid that I cannot accompany you. I have to take care of some business in Lave, and I cannot tarry here longer.” Lave, the capital of Vesh, is a day and a half’s journey north of us. 

Stone says “I am going with her, to protect her. I’ll try to catch up to you, when I’m back.” 

The half-orc monk has been a stout fighter, and Paks says, "I'm sure we’ll miss you."

Brunhilde pulls out the scroll which we found in the spider’s cave. “You should take this,” she says, offering the scroll to Miriel. “I’m done studying it. It contains an illusion spell, _minor image_, which I think Jim might be able to cast, as well as two arcane spells, _shield_ and _ghost sound_.”

“Thank you for your help,” Miriel says. 

Brunhilde wishes us luck on our journey, and we wish her well on her business. We finish the meal together, and Fox packs us some sandwiches, enough for lunch and dinner today. 

Miriel suggests stopping by the temple of Madriel to ask for her blessing on the mission and pick up a potion of healing. Chuck, Goldpetal, and Miriel contribute two pieces of platinum each, giving us six platinum, which is enough to buy a single potion of healing. The high priestess, Verenia is, as always, pleased to see Miriel, and gives us her blessing. “Madriel shines her light on you all,” she says, “And of course, you always have my blessing.”

On the way back to the inn, we discuss taking horses. Goldpetal suggests that we not, in order to more easily pass through the forest. Chuck and Miriel think it would be better to take horses, and Paks doesn’t care. After a short discussion, Miriel decides that we should take the horses, and the rest of us agree. 



The four heroes head south along the road, and meet Jim at the appointed place. He waits for us astride his large horse, a magnificent bay with a white star on its forehead. The Vigilant wears a dark cloak over chain mail, and has two swords sheathed, one at each hip. Strapped to his back is a beautiful long bow.

He hails us as we ride within range, and the five of us ride south towards the tower. 

Chuck rides alongside Jim. “We found a scroll we think you could use,” he says. “It has an illusion, _minor image_, and two arcane spells.” The similarity between the two is striking – though his bow and horse are not as fine, he wears a similar kit: dark cloak over leather armor, a sword at each hip, and a bow strapped to his back. 

“I could cast the illusion,” Jim says.

“Miriel, give it to him,” Chuck says. 

As Miriel hands over the scroll, Jim says, “Great, this will come in really useful. Okay, here’s my plan. We’ll use a lantern to give the signals, and lure the smugglers to the cove. With this scroll, I can create an illusion of Delonia and her henchmen, which will fool the smugglers even more.”

“But…” Chuck says, “They may already know we’re looking for them. They took my notes, at the bar.”

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Jim says decisively. “If they don’t know, we’ll be in great shape.”

Chuck looks satisfied to follow the elder Vigilant’s lead, but Paks and Miriel exchange worried glances. We have had word that Delonia escaped, and when Chuck was stabbed in the bar fight, somebody whispered something about “For the tower.” 

As we near the tower, Goldpetal suggests, “We should track.” The elf is, like all his kind, slightly built.

Jim chuckles. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but as we’ve been traveling, I’ve been checking both sides of the road for tracks.”

Chuck looks at Jim with respect, and says, “I’ve also been tracking, looking for significant changes in the road.”

“Have either of you seen anything?” asks Miriel.

They both shake their heads. “No,” Jim says, “Nothing of any significance.”



We reach the ruined tower around dinnertime with little incident. None of our woodsmen have seen any tracks, and we have seen no sign of the strange halfling, Fergus, or Delonia. The tower itself was once circular, and stood almost eighty feet high. It has fallen over, and now rubble is strewn southwest from it for over a hundred feet. The base still stands, white stone walls about fifteen feet high, with a forty foot diameter. As we learned in our first visit, holes in the walls offer room for those inside to shoot out, and vice versa. 

It looks unoccupied. We ride towards it. “It looks like we’ll get the usual coastal fog,” Jim says, as we draw within a hundred yards. “Which will make it very dark, this being the night of the new moon.”

Goldpetal suggests, “Miriel, why don’t you go up to the top of the tower and maintain a lookout, since you can see in the dark?”

She shakes her head. “I won’t be able to see through the fog,” she says, “But we should look through the whole tower and make sure there’s no one there. A watch up top is a good idea, as well, to make sure no one can sneak up on us.”

“We should remove the ladder that goes down from the edge of the cliff to the beach,” adds Chuck.

When we reach the large doorway of the ruined tower, we dismount. Jim, Chuck, and Goldpetal check for tracks. Jim looks at Chuck with an eyebrow raised. Chuck shakes his head. “I see only the tracks of the youths, Randall and Reginald, from a few days before.”

“Very good,” Jim says, with approval in his voice. Goldpetal gives him a bland look, as though unimpressed.

We all enter the tower. It remains empty. Paks begins hobbling the horses, while Miriel says, “Chuck, come stand watch with me.” 

“Great,” Jim says. “We’ll explore.”

Chuck and Miriel head up to the ruined second floor of the tower. They don’t see anyone or anything around the tower, but they stay up to watch. 

Jim, Paks, and Goldpetal head down through the trapdoor. In the crypt, they find the rotting bodies of three ghouls, from our previous visit. The smell is almost overwhelming. There are some rats, but no other signs of occupancy. 

The rooms that were once occupied by the smugglers don’t have anything in them, but Goldpetal looks over at Paks. “These look like someone has rummaged through them since we left,” he says, brushing a lock of his long dark hair out of his eyes.

She looks thoughtfully around. “Yeah, you’re right,” she says. “That table’s been moved, at least.” 

The three searchers go out through the tunnel to the beach, and remove the ladder, bringing it back up to the tower. 



We gather on the top of the tower, to discuss our plan of action. It is sunset over the water, which is just beginning to widen from the Hornswythe River into the southeast corner of the Blood Sea. It is a beautiful sunset, and, as Jim predicted, we can see a bank of fog rolling in.

“I’m not so sure about your plan, Jim,” says Miriel. “If they’ve had warning, we may be the prey, not the hunters.”

“I think it’s a risk worth taking,” Jim says. “There should be no problem fooling people into believing Delonia is there, with this spell. We hide in the dark, and start shooting at the boat when they start coming in.” 

Paks says, “We could try the classic Trojan horse...” 

Chuck laughs. “What, build a wooden model of the sorceress?”

“No!” exclaims Paks. “We hide in crates and get them to load them on the boat.” 

Jim looks dubious. “There are probably a lot of people on the boat.”

“We should try to lure them into the tunnel,” suggests Goldpetal. “We can trap them there.”

“That might work,” Jim says, “But they might be suspicious. That illusion won’t hold at close range. It’s a big beach, and we can all hide in the shadows.”

“Yeah, that worked before,” Paks says in agreement. The setting sun glints off of her chain mail, giving it a reddish hue.

“We should split up,” Miriel says decisively. “Two of us will give the signals, then come down, while everyone else hides at the beach.”

“We could take cover behind the various bits of seaweed and driftwood,” Paks suggests. 

“There are plenty of niches in the cove,” Goldpetal reminds her. “Without a torch, it is black enough that humans can’t see.”

“Too bad we don’t know the signal for ‘bug out’,” says Chuck. 

“Why?” asks Jim with a half-laugh. 

“So we can send the boat away and not have to fight them all,” explains Chuck.

“Very smart,” Jim says. “No wonder Steve picked you. Unfortunately, we don’t know that, nor would it put a stop to their trade.” 

“Okay,” says Paks, “So we adopt Miriel’s plan. Who stays at the top?”

“Goldpetal and I,” answers the priestess. “We’re the ones that can see in the dark.”

“What about the illusion not working at short range?” asks Goldpetal.

“That’s easy,” says Paks. “Delonia’s figure should turn and head up the tunnel when they arrive.”

“What happens when the boat doesn’t make it back to the ship?” asks Chuck. “What if the whole crew comes ashore?”

“Then we’ll just capture the ship,” says Jim optimistically.

Paks looks alarmed at his incessant optimism, but Miriel speaks before she can give voice. “They probably won’t come to shore,” the half-elf says, “Not knowing what they’d be facing.”

Chuck teaches Goldpetal and Miriel the rhythm for the signals, and then all the fighters go down to to the beach to get set up, while Goldpetal and Miriel stay atop the tower with the lantern to signal. 

Chuck suggests lighting the cavern, and Jim says there should be a torch with the figure of the sorceress, to lend it credence. We light two torches, as it was the night we first met Delonia. Then the threesome down at the beach array themselves in hiding. Jim asks Chuck to stay close to him, so they all hide in a group, well away from the illuminated area. 

Miriel and Goldpetal plan to come down after giving the signals, with Goldpetal in the lead with his bow drawn. They will stop before the lighted area of the tunnel, in order to get a different shot on the smugglers and keep them from running up the tunnel. 

Everyone is in place.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #5: The Smugglers, Episode 2 of 5*

Miriel watches out to sea, while Goldpetal watches inland. It’s a cold, cold night, and between the fog and the lack of moon, it is very dark. Through the early part of the night, the fog renders it impossible to see. By around eleven, the fog begins to thin somewhat. Miriel draws her peacock-embroidered cloak more tightly about herself, to ward against the bitter cold. Finally, shortly before midnight, she spies a light out to sea. 

“There it is,” she whispers. “The first signal.” She lifts up the lantern, and gives the second signal. The third signal comes in answer, and she gives the confirmation signal. “Goldpetal,” she hisses, “Can you see anything through the fog?”

“I think I can see it,” he answers, “It might be a big schooner; it’s hard to tell in this fog.” He glances away, and scans the land around the tower one last time. With the fog, he can’t see much of anything. The two listen, straining to hear anything, but the fog blankets the night in silence, and all they can hear is the waves against the cliff edge.

Miriel and Goldpetal rush down through the tower to the cave, Goldpetal in the lead with his bow drawn, and Miriel watching behind with her spear ready. They stop inside the tunnel, hidden in the shadows thirty feet along the corridor, outside of the lighted area. 

The three waiting in the cove hear the splashing of the oars and muffled sounds from the oarlocks. Paks readies her sword, while Chuck has his bow ready. Jim is still concentrating on the illusion, but holds his bow ready in his right hand. 

We can see a light; the people in the boat have a torch. There are twelve people aboard a large rowboat. There are two men in the bow, peering forward into the night. One is an older, thin man in a robe. Next to him, holding the torch, is a very tall man, with an angular, patrician face, his hair and large cloak billowing in the wind. There are four oarsmen. Manacled together in the center of the boat are six miserable-looking slaves.  

The older man says, “Something doesn’t feel right, Virilius.” We can hear his voice carrying clearly over the water, although he spoke softly. 

“I agree, Sambelay,” says the man he addressed as Virilius. “Something is wrong.” In a voice clearly accustomed to command, he orders, “Get the men ready.”

Jim’s illusionary Delonia gives a wave of greeting, but from the top of the cliff a woman’s voice shouts “Virilius, it’s a trap!”

At a quick word from Virilius, the well-trained oarsmen immediately start rowing back out to sea. The old man casts some sort of spell, and a thick fog stars pouring out of his fingertips. Within moments, we can't see anything at all. 

Jim grabs Chuck with one hand, while he grasps his medallion with the other. “I’m casting _waterwalk_ on both of us,” he says. Chuck drops his bow on the beach, as he and his mentor draw swords. They rush towards the boat, running atop the placid waters of the cove as though it were firm sand. 

Paks recognized the woman as Delonia, and attempts to impersonate her voice. “Wait, wait,” she cries. “Don’t leave me! Come back!”

Jim and Chuck run across the water. Jim reaches the boat first, and begins exchanging blows with Virilius. They are both expert swordsmen, and at first neither scores a hit. Chuck attacks the wizard, Sambelay, with both swords, cutting him with the longsword and forcing him to stop a spell he was chanting. 

As Virilius and Jim are trading blows, they also trade insults. “You are no match for me, boy,” Virilius tells the Vigilant.

“Your days are numbered, Asuras swine,” says the Vigilant, parrying a blow. 

Virilius, never taking his eyes from Jim’s blades, says “Bjorn, distract them.” One of the oarsmen takes a boathook, and uses it to grab one of the slaves and throw him overboard. At the same instant, the mage casts a spell, and suddenly Jim sinks into the water, his waterwalk abruptly ended. 



As Chuck and Jim ran into the fog, Paks started heading back to the tunnel, long sword held in her right hand. She sees Goldpetal and Miriel waiting, and Goldpetal nearly looses his bow at her. “They’re getting away,” she says. “But Delonia is upstairs. Follow me!” 

The three of them run up the tunnel underneath the tower. When they reach the room under the tower, Paks listens to see if she hears anyone in the tower room, but she doesn’t. She heads up the ladder into the tower, and runs to the front door, where she sees Delonia running away into the darkness.

“After her, she’s getting away!” Paks yells, plunging into the night in hot pursuit. Delonia is heading south, past the area we have explored. Goldpetal runs to the door and shoots an arrow, but he misses. Miriel starts running after Delonia and Paks. 

Paks, weighed down by her chain mail, seems to have no chance of catching the mage, but then Goldpetal casts _entangle_. Delonia is running through tall grass, and the grasses immediately start wrapping around her ankles and calves. Within seconds, she is brought to a quick halt.

The rogue mage turns and casts a _magic missile_ at Paks. A bolt of sickly green energy streaks from her fingertips, and penetrates Paks’ chain mail, catching her in the chest. 

The young warrior shakes it off. She runs up closer to the sorceress, yelling “Delonia! Surrender!” Paks starts circling around to the south, cutting off her retreat, and shouts to the other two, “Come at her from different sides, so she cannot escape.” Goldpetal and Miriel approach cautiously, from opposite sides, surrounding her at the 120-degree points of the circle of entangling grass. 

Delonia is thoroughly entangled by the tall grasses. Miriel, standing outside of the entangling grasses, draws her sling, and her first shot whacks Delonia in the head. 

Paks yells, “Have you surrendered yet?”

Delonia says nothing, and continues struggling with the grasses. Paks shoots an arrow at her, but misses. Goldpetal comes up to the edge of the circle and fires his short bow, also missing the sorceress. 

Delonia realizes that she can’t get away. She puts her hands up, spreading them wide so we can see that they are empty. “Okay, okay, I surrender!”
“Okay,” Paks says warningly. “But don’t try anything when the entanglement goes away.” Miriel pulls out her coil of silk rope. 



Down at the cove, Chuck is still standing on the surface of the water, but Jim has sunk into it up to his neck, and is forced to swim, an awkward task with swords in his hands, and near impossible with chain mail. He can do little better than tread water. Chuck yells, “Slaves! Help us, and be freed!” 

“Chuck, get the slave!” Jim commands. Chuck runs over, reaches down, and grabs the slave by the tunic, preventing him from sinking. 

The smuggler with the hook has started rowing again, and the small boat is making progress away from them. “Jim,” Chuck asks desperately, “Should I follow the boat?”

The spellcaster in the boat casts another spell. The rowers start moving a lot faster, and the boot shoots away. As the boat disappears into the fog, Virilius shakes his fist and says “You haven't seen the last of me! No one crosses Virilius Asuras and gets away with it!” 

Jim doesn't answer Chuck's question, and when he looks over, he sees his mentor slipping beneath the waves. Chuck pulls the slave over to Jim, and takes him by the collar of the tunic as well. With three people’s weight, Chuck sinks into the water halfway up to his calves, and each step is difficult. He starts pulling them both slowly towards the shore, through the spooky fog. 

By the time they reach shore, Chuck checks on the slave, and finds that he is not doing very well. He looks malnourished, and the cold from the water has leached most of his energy. Chuck begins freeing him from his bonds.

Jim, however, looks around the cove, and finds it empty of the rest of the group. “Where is everyone?” he asks. “Let’s go see what happened.”

They each grab one of the two torches by the doorway of the passage. Jim leads them up towards the tower, while Chuck supports the slave, who leans most of his weight over the younger Vigil’s shoulder. There is no sign of what happened to the other three.



When Chuck and Jim reach the room underneath the tower, Jim stops Chuck, pointing at the floor. “Hey, what’s that?” he asks quietly. 

Chuck looks where his mentor is pointing, and sees a small shoe print, about the size of a child’s foot. The whole party is wearing boots. He looks around to see if there are any other prints. “It looks like four people went up the ladder,” he whispers, “This small print more recently than the other three.”

Jim gestures for silence, and Chuck starts quietly up the ladder. The trap door to the base of the tower opens without a sound, and when he pokes his head up into the tower, he sees a halfling in the shadows by the door of the tower, looking out. He doesn’t seem to notice them.

Chuck puts a finger to his lips, and then motions Jim up. As Jim climbs, Chuck tries to sneak up on the halfling, gliding soundlessly towards the door with his sword in hand. He taps the halfling on the shoulder with his free hand. 

The halfling yelps and jumps a foot in the air.

“What are you doing here?” demands Chuck roughly. The halfling turns towards him, and he recognizes the same sneaky halfling who he had seen several times in Southport over the previous three days.

Though he received quite a shock, the halfling has his wits about him when he first speaks. “I’m looking out the door,” he says, stating the obvious. “What are you doing here? I’d just like to say that I’m amazed at your composure, Chuck. Not only can you run through mist and water and do nothing useful, but you can also ask straightforward questions. Good thing I decided you weren’t worth following.” 

Chuck stares at him darkly, as Jim approaches with an arrow knocked. Neither of them look like very friendly, but the halfling stands his ground. He looks exasperated. “I was also trying to stop the slavers,” he explains.

Chuck looks very suspicious. “Perhaps we could have cooperated?” he asks.

“I want nothing to do with you, sir,” the halfling says. “I serve the Lady Miriel.”

Jim rolls his eyes. He steps to the door, and looks outside, where he sees the tableau. Miriel, Paks, and Goldpetal have surrounded the sorceress, who is thoroughly entangled by the grass and vines, which have wrapped their way all the way to her waist. Paks and Goldpetal have arrows ready, while Miriel seems to be readying some rope. “Chuck, don’t take your eyes off of him for one minute,” he says, and heads outside to see if the others need any help.

Chuck kneels and begins to rummage in his pack for flint and steel. As soon as his attention is off the halfling, the halfling says, “I’m going out to greet my mistress.” He steps quickly outside the door before Chuck can react.



“Here. Warm up,” Chuck says, dropping his flint and steel next to the slave. He steps to the door, and sees that the halfling is not fleeing, and is, in fact, approaching the rest of the group.

As Jim draws within a hundred feet of the three heroes and their prisoner, he calls out, “Ho! What’s going on?” 

“We have this one entangled,” Paks yells back, “And she has surrendered to us!”

“Nicely done!” says the Vigilant, as he reaches the edge of the entangling grasses. 

“She’s given us her parole,” continues Paks, “And we’re going to tie her up.”

Goldpetal looks at halfling, who is approaching. Chuck straggles along behind, long sword in his right hand, looking unsure whether he should attack or treat the halfling as an equal. “Who are you,” the elf asks the halfling. “Why are you here?”

The halfling retorts, “Why are you here? Who are you?”

“It’s our job to be here,” Goldpetal answers implacably. 

“Yes,” says the halfling, “I know it’s your job, Goldpetal. It’s also mine.” Though most of the others are watching this exchange, Paks keeps a close watch on the entangled Delonia, who seems to be considering escape. 

“Who sent you?” demands Goldpetal.  

The halfling responds tauntingly, “Who sent you?”

“Grilliam sent us,” answers Goldpetal.

The halfling draws close to the group. “Who sent him? And who sent him?”

“The gods,” the druid responds. “Do you claim to be a god?”

The halfling shakes his head. “No, I’m just me.” He approaches Miriel, with Chuck immediately behind him, but unsure yet if he means her harm.

Goldpetal looks over at Paks, and informs her, “The _entangle_ is about to expire.”

She nods. “Chuck,” she calls, “Bring me your manacles.” Chuck looks at the halfling dubiously, but then returns to the tower, and his pack, to get a pair of manacles.

Miriel looks the halfling in the eye and asks, “Do I know you?”

“Why, no, madam, not yet, but I know you. I am Milo, and I have been sent by Madriel to serve you and protect you.” He kneels down and reaches out, taking her hand and kissing it as though he is a courtier. 

Miriel says to the halfling, “I haven’t heard of you from Madriel or Verenia.” 

“I have my honor,” he responds. “What more do I need?”

Miriel shakes her head. “I don’t know you.”

“Isn’t Madriel the goddess of mercy?” the halfling responds.

“What does mercy have to do with it?” Miriel asks, an almost incredulous tone to her voice. “I don’t trust you yet. You had the chance to meet us before, and instead you show up here, under suspicious circumstances.”

By this time, Chuck is returning from the tower with the manacles. He and Jim come over to Paks. Chuck hands her the manacles. The two Vigilants draw swords, and Jim calls out, “Sorceress, if you try *anything*, you’re dead.” 

The entanglement subsides. Paks approaches Delonia, with Chuck and Jim guarding her. The sorceress offers no resistance, and Paks secures her with the manacles. 

Jim switches from sword to bow, and stands where he can watch both the halfling and the bound sorceress. 

Chuck walks over to Miriel, and asks, “Miriel, do you want a set of manacles?” He glances meaningfully at the halfling.

To his surprise, she declines his offer. “No, it’s not right to manacle someone on suspicion alone. Just keep an eye on him.”

Jim calls, “Chuck, don’t let him out of your sight.”


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #5: The Smugglers, Episode 3 of 5*

Paks begins to interrogate Delonia. She is surprisingly gentle and compassionate, for a mercenary sword. “Delonia, what’s going on?” she asks. 

“What do you want to know?” asks Delonia, kneeling with her hands manacled behind her back.

Paks asks, “What's the smuggling plan?”

To Paks’ surprise, Delonia begins to tell all. “I was hired by Virilius Asuras,” Delonia tells her. “We trade slaves to the ratmen at the swamp. They give us poisons, which Virilius sells at a high profit.”

“Do you know his contact in the north?” Paks asks. The rest of us gather around, each listening intently, and quietly, even the halfling.

“No, I don’t know,” the sorceress says, “But these were very rare poisons. I hope you sold them; they were worth a ton of money!” 

Paks smiles, gently. “Yes, we know. Who’s your contact with the ratmen? Where and when?”

“SySy,” Delonia says. “She runs an outpost at the swamp, we trade with her there. I don’t want any more contact than that with the ratmen. They’re pretty gross.”

Goldpetal, who still has his bow out, though now pointed at the ground, asks quietly, “Does she trade with anyone else?”

“I don’t know the details,” Delonia explains, “But she’s the only rat person who will trade with humans, and she’s got a pretty good business going. She’s neutral and has contacts with all the various tribes.”

Paks continues her questioning. “What’s her outpost like?”

“Well, I know there’s a cave complex underneath it, but I haven’t been under there and don’t want to.”

“How many guards do you travel with?”

“Just a few,” Delonia answers. “No one wants to go in the swamp; we travel light and go in and out as quickly as possible. The ratmen are dangerous, but the money is good, and Virilius is very powerful.”

“What was the going rate?”

“Three hundred gold per delivery, but I had to pay the others.”

Paks studies Delonia for a long moment, and then asks her, “Would you be available for hire?”

Delonia looks absolutely incredulous. “To *you* guys?”

Paks grins. “Well, we keep running into each other,” she says with a shrug.

“I’m sure Grilliam could test her loyalty,” suggests the halfling helpfully.

Delonia pales at the mention of Grilliam. “I’d be happy to work with you, if you don’t take me to Grilliam,” she says.

Chuck suggests, “Why don’t we let the slave beat her up? He was the only one of us who was harmed by her actions.” Nobody pays him much attention.

The halfling asks Delonia, “When and where is the next meeting with SySy?”

Before she can respond, Paks says, “You don’t have to answer him. He’s not with us.” She glares at the halfling.

Miriel interjects, to Paks, “We can’t not take her to Grilliam. We agreed with him to take her back.” She turns and looks at Chuck. “What happened with the boat?” 

Chuck coughs, and looks a little embarrassed. “They got away,” he says. “The sorcerer was too powerful. They threw a slave out to distract us. We saved him, and left him in the tower.” 

“Let’s go back to the tower,” Paks suggests, “And continue this indoors.” She helps Delonia to her feet, and we begin walking that direction. 

As we walk back towards the tower, the halfling, Milo, takes Miriel by the elbow, and tries to draw her away. She refuses, shrugging off his attentions. “I need to talk with you,” he tells her.

She shakes her head. “If you have anything to say to me, all my friends may hear.”  

“I must speak with you alone,” the halfling says insistently.

“Why don’t you go to the top of the tower?” suggests Goldpetal.

Jim looks suspiciously at the halfling, and tells the elf, “Not without Chuck.”

“What about somewhere outside,” Paks suggests, “Within bow range?”

“No,” Chuck says.

“Okay,” Milo says. “I’ll agree to Chuck watching, as long as he stays out of hearing range.”



We reach the tower, where the slave has a nice fire going. Jim, who is soaking wet, goes over to the fire to warm up. Chuck gets his flint and steel back.  

While Miriel, Chuck, and Milo go up the tower, Paks and Goldpetal stand guard outside, and discuss Delonia. 

“So, how can I rescue this woman?” Paks asks him.

“I don't know if I’m interested in rescuing her,” Goldpetal says. “If we can use her, that’s great, but…” He looks away from her, staring out into the darkness for a long moment before continuing his sentence. “She’s selling people to these unnatural creatures. She deserves no mercy.”

“I do not sense evil in her,” Paks says. “Perhaps we can save her from herself.”

Goldpetal is thinking about something, and again they sit in silence for a minute before he speaks. “All the smugglers are going to do is find another smuggling point. If we shut down this one, they’ll go somewhere else. If we can use her to get at the ratmen...” 

“Or the smugglers...” suggests Paks.

“If she’s just a pawn, they’re far worse than she is,” Goldpetal decides. “But how do we convince Chuck and Miriel? Or do we? Do we try to convince Grilliam?” 

Paks says, “Convincing Miriel is easy: Madriel is the goddess of mercy and compassion. Have mercy and compassion here. Convincing Chuck, now, that’s a little harder.”

Goldpetal looks thoughtful. 

Paks continues, “And then there’s always the question of, can we really trust her? No matter what she says?”

Goldpetal hits on a suggestion. “Do you think we could convince Grilliam to suspend sentence, contingent on her helping us?”

Paks says, “For me to trust her, she’d basically have to renounce the whole scheme, and renounce any loyalty to the ratmen or to Virilius. If that’s not enough for Grilliam...”

Goldpetal laughs darkly. “Funny, that would make me trust her less. She doesn’t stay bought.”

Paks shakes her head, frustrated. “Well, then there’s the whole idea that it would be under duress, anyway.”



Miriel and the others come back down from the tower. The priestess looks thoughtful, while Chuck continues to regard the halfling with dark suspicion. Before they can say anything, Paks requests, “Miriel, can I talk to you for a few minutes?” 

She takes Miriel outside, and outlines her concerns. “You seem very set on bringing this woman to justice,” Paks says. “I don’t feel the need for justice here. Madriel is the goddess of mercy and compassion, and I think this is a time for mercy. Also, if she is to be sentenced to death anyway, it would be better to give Delonia a chance to redeem herself first.” 

Miriel looks thoughtful. “Well, I certainly think it’s a good idea to let her redeem herself, and if you’re willing to take responsibility for her, I’m willing to do it. But I really don’t think it's a good idea to trust her. Do you have any reason to think that this is a workable idea; that she will actually try to do good?”

“I don't sense any evil from her,” says Paks. “Do you think you might be able to convert her?”

“That’s something that’s really beyond my experience,” Miriel answers, “But I have great faith in Madriel, and I think that if Delonia’s at all willing to try, she could be converted.”

Paks still isn’t convinced, herself. “Convert or die is an old story,” she says, shaking her head.

Miriel quickly grasps her concern. “I’m not so sure that a conversion under sentence of death will really mean anything – she might still try to escape.” 

“I think that there’s a chance,” says Paks.

“Well,” says Miriel, “As I say, if there’s a chance, I’m sure Madriel can bring some good out of this. But what do we say to Grilliam? I don’t want to lie to him.” 

“Nor I. Definitely not,” says Paks fervently, remembering how Grilliam reacted when Delonia lied to him. “I would just like to give this woman a chance to redeem herself before we take her to him, and if she’s successfully been converted, then we ask Grilliam for mercy.”

“But again, what do we say to him? Do we tell him this?” asks Miriel.

Paks shakes her head. “My plan was to get that all accomplished before we see him again.”

“It sounds like that means going to the swamp now,” says Miriel. 

Paks nods. “It’s either that, or taking her to the temple of Madriel, rather than the temple of Hedrada, first, and having a senior priestess try to convert her.” 

“That would work for me,” says Miriel. “If we take her to Verenia, since we’re serving the town and council, we haven’t violated our agreement with Grilliam, and we’re doing the right thing by both Delonia and our contract with Grilliam.” 



Paks and Miriel rejoin the rest of the company by the fire, to find that the rescued slave is speaking. “My name is Thar,” he says, apparently in response to a question.

Goldpetal says to him, “The slavers were going to sell you to the rat men.”

Thar looks horrified. “They were going to sell me to the Slytherin? Thank Tanil you saved me! That’s a fate worse than death.”

Milo asks, “What would they do to you?”

“They eat the flesh of slaves,” says Thar. “They have evil breeding programs. They practice all sorts of torture! Haven’t you heard?”

Chuck shakes his head. “We’re not from around here.”

“Neither am I!” exclaims the former slave, “But I’ve heard!”

Thar’s story is that he lived in an area called Durover, which was overrun by Callastians, who sold him into slavery. He’s passed through many hands since then; recently he found himself on an island in a stockade, from which a bunch of slaves were rounded up onto a ship. The next thing he knew, he was being pulled out of the water by Chuck. He finishes his story, and adds, “Thanks again for saving me.”

Milo looks at Paks, and asks, “Did you reach an agreement with Delonia for helping us?”

Paks shakes her head. “No, there's no agreement yet.”

Chuck asks Delonia, “Who have you informed about us besides the wizard, and who stabbed me?”

Delonia, though bound, has been left without a gag in her mouth, and she is free to answer. “I have no idea.”

“Who else have you told?” he continues, “And who did you talk to when you escaped?”

Delonia says, “I just ran out to the woods. I was waiting for Virilius to come so I could restart operations. I didn’t expect you guys, but when I saw you, I hid out to warn my benefactor, and it looks like it’s going to be my death.”

“Maybe not just yet,” answers Paks. “I’d like to talk to you about that. There’s...” She pauses, takes a deep breath, and starts over. “I’d like to save you if I can, but I’m operating under a commission from Grilliam to break the slave ring and bring the perpetrators to justice. The only way I see to save you is a religious conversion.” 

Delonia laughs bleakly. “Are you serious? A religious conversion? You know those Hedrada worshippers, if it's not on paper, they don’t believe in it.” 

Paks shakes her head. “No, I was thinking of a conversation with a priestess of Madriel.”

Delonia rolls her eyes. “Oh, even worse! They just talk and talk and talk. Couldn’t you just put me out of my misery?” 

“Well, if you’d rather die...” Paks looks very sad.

Delonia stares into the fire for a while. “I guess it’s better than death... Yeah, I’ll talk to her.” She looks up earnestly. “It’s not so easy to convert, though. I’m a follower of Enkili, and he’ll be pretty mad if I convert.”

Paks nods. “I can certainly understand your concern.”

“Enkili’s been very good to me,” continues Delonia. “My luck seems to have run out, but, you know, that’s bound to happen... I can talk to your priestess. If it’s a choice between Grilliam or Verenia, I’ll take the latter.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Paks says with a smile.

Delonia chuckles to herself. “A choice between death or boredom. I guess I’ll take boredom.”

Paks smiles wryly. “Unfortunately, our group has several factions. One wants to let the slave Thar beat you up; others don’t trust you. But talk to the priestess.”

“Well, we’ll let things take their course,” says Delonia.

“If you’ll help us against SySy, maybe Grilliam will let you live,” suggests Milo.

Paks looks at Delonia’s face. “I’m hoping if you can swear off of the slave trade...”

Delonia nods. “I see where this is leading. If you want me to help you go to the swamp to help talk to the ratman trader, I can do that. If it’s my life at stake, sure,” she says. “Slaving is just a way of making a living, you know.”

“If I can get that to be your sentence, would you honor it?”

“Sure,” Delonia agrees sincerely.

Milo asks her, “When is the next meeting with SySy?”

“Usually we head out the next morning in that cart... that you guys stole... and then take the horses... that you stole... and then get down there in a couple of days.” At Delonia’s response, Paks is biting back laughter, which she sees reflected in Chuck’s eyes. 

Milo continues with his questions, now that Paks is letting him ask them. “You only meet Virilius once a month?”

“Yeah, it’s a cushy job,” she says. “We sit around the rest of the month. You broke up the best gig ever!” 



“So,” Miriel asks, “How do we manage this mission to the swamp?” 

“You don’t have to be in much of a hurry,” Delonia answers. “We never rushed to get there, and Virilius’ ship probably won’t send messages.”

“Why not?” asks Chuck.

“They won’t send anyone near the swamp, because they don’t want to mess with the Foamers, the ratman pirates.”

Jim nods knowingly. “They’re ratmen that ply the seas around the swamp.”

“How do we get there?” asks Goldpetal. “Surely they will have guards posted.”

“I was thinking,” answers Miriel, “That we could take the cart – we have the right one, even – and disguise some of us as ‘slaves’ while the rest of us are the ‘guards’.”

“If Delonia agrees to help us, that could work,” Paks says.

Chuck glances dubiously at Thar. “Not if they’re all as emaciated as this fellow.”

“That’s hard to see, under a blanket,” Jim answers. 

“This is great!” Milo enthuses. “Let’s go now!”

“We have a lot of things to do in town,” says Paks. “Let’s go there first.”

“Yeah,” says Miriel. “We have to take Thar to the healers, and pick up the cart. Maybe we can hire some men at arms, as well.”

“Should we rest here a little while?” asks Chuck.

Miriel shakes her head. “No longer than it takes Thar to dry out.” 

Chuck nods once, and says, “Okay, I’m going to go get my bow.” He heads back down to the beach.

Within an hour, we are mounted and ready. Goldpetal rides in front. Paks rides with Delonia, with Chuck on the next horse, keeping a close eye on the manacled prisoner. Miriel takes Milo, while Jim goes last and carries Thar.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #5: The Smugglers, Episode 4 of 5*

We arrive back in town without incident, arriving in the early light before the dawn of day. It is the 13th of Charder, Wildday. Jim pulls his dark hood down over his face, but rides with us. We head straight for the temple of Madriel. 

The priestesses are already awake, giving dawn prayers. They take in Thar, sympathetically, and promise that he will be well cared for. Miriel, Paks, and Delonia go to talk to Verenia about the plan. 

As the three women reach Verenia’s quarters, she welcomes Miriel and Paks warmly. She looks at Delonia with one eyebrow raised, and asks what she can do for us. 

Paks explains the problem. “We have a commission from Grilliam to round up the smugglers. We went to the tower last night, where we found Delonia and recaptured her. She is under a sentence of death, but we would like to give her a chance to redeem herself before that sentence is carried out. Can you have senior priestess talk to her?”

Verenia studies Delonia’s face before answering. “I’ll talk to her myself.”

“I hope you can convert her to Madriel,” Paks explains. “I don’t see any other way for her to be saved. Then she can help us, paying her debt to society that way.” 

“I see what you want,” says Verenia. “I appreciate and understand your feelings of mercy and compassion, and your desire to give the opportunity for redemption. These are all traits that Madriel brings out in us. Everyone deserves a second chance. I’ll talk to the notorious Delonia. However, slaving is wrong, even to Madriel, and Madriel doesn’t believe in forced conversions. We will only trust in her change of heart if she converts of her own free will. Nonetheless, I will talk to Grilliam and see if he will allow her to try to help you capture the smugglers and free the slaves.”

“I understand,” says Paks, “And she does have a strong faith already.”

Verenia nods. “Give me a few moments.”

“Thank you,” says Paks. “I have faith in the gods.” She gives Delonia a long, compassionate look. “Good luck, Delonia.” Delonia rolls her eyes as Miriel and Paks step through the door. 



While the women are talking, Milo goes into the temple to pray. Chuck follows Milo to watch him. Milo manages to duck under a bench, and disappear. He sneaks over and surprises Chuck, tapping on his belt pouch. Milo looks quite pleased with himself, but Chuck is far from amused.

When Miriel leaves Verenia’s office, she goes to the dawn rites and finds Chuck watching the benches, standing in the doorway. 

Jim says, “That halfling is so much trouble. Chuck, you can bring him to the Inn if you want, or I’m sure he’ll find us. How much trouble can one little halfling make...” He looks, but Milo has disappeared from view again. “Oh, no...”   

Milo sneaks up, expecting not to be noticed, but Jim spies him and says, “Oh, there he is now.”



We all gather outside the temple, and make a brief plan. Paks decides to wait near the temple, and goes to a nearby bakery for a fresh loaf of bread. Milo goes with her. Miriel decides to stay at the temple for the dawn rites, and talk to Verenia when she’s ready. She says she’ll meet everyone back at the Laughing Ogre for lunch. Goldpetal goes to the woodland shrine to meditate. Chuck and Jim go to the Laughing Ogre for food and rest. 

When Chuck and Jim arrive at the Laughing Ogre, Fox greets Jim as an old friend, saying, “I’m so happy to see you, Jim. You’re never here enough. I feel safer with you around, even though there’s usually trouble when you show up! How’s Rick?”

“He’s still running things, even though he’s getting old,” replies the Vigilant. Though this is the first he’s heard of Rick, Chuck guesses from their conversation that Rick is a senior Vigilant, maybe Jim’s boss.



When Miriel finishes the dawn rites, an acolyte arrives with a message from Verenia, telling her that Verenia has contacted Grilliam, and that Miriel should go now and come back to the temple after lunch to discuss with Grilliam what should be done with Delonia. 

Miriel leaves the temple and looks for Paks, but doesn’t see her, and heads back to the Laughing Ogre. 

She finds Chuck and Jim and gives them Verenia’s message, then has a small snack and goes to lie down until lunch, as it was a long night with little sleep.



Paks finds a bakery, but when she arrives there, she notices that Milo has disappeared. She selects a loaf of bread, and as she pays for it, inquires if the baker knows of a shrine to Enkili. 

“There isn’t actually one in town,” he answers, “But you could always go down to the Conch and Trident and gamble. Enkili is a god of gamblers and sailors; sometimes worship is just a roll of the dice.”

That doesn’t suit what the serious young warrior is looking for, so she goes out of town to pray in a field, instead. She takes out a coin, and begins a prayer. “Please, Enkili” she prays, “Do not take offense at my actions. I hope that my actions were your way of giving Delonia luck.” She pauses for a moment, contemplating the coin in her hand. “If I have acted according to your wishes,” she prays, “Let this coin come up heads.” 

She flips it high in the air, and catches it. It lies in her palm, heads up.



At the Laughing Ogre, over lunch, Chuck asks Jim about Milo. 

“I don’t really know much about him,” answers the elder Vigilant. “I’ve never seen him before. He’s clearly a sneaky git, following you around all week the way he did. I tried to follow him, but even though I’m a good tracker, he still got away from me. I don’t really like halflings anyway, but this one...” He shrugs. “He gives me the willies. He’s trouble.”

“That’s no reason to tie him up,” says Miriel, who has come down from her nap to dine. “We can but see if his actions match his words.”

Paks arrives midway through the meal, feeling immeasurably reassured after her prayer. She joins the group at our customary table in the corner. Goldpetal joins the group shortly after she does.

Milo is the last to arrive, and when he does, the halfling asks Fox, “May I take a room, sir?”

Fox looks at him, and says, “Certainly, for my usual rate of two gold pieces per day.” 

The halfling blanches slightly. Miriel suggests, sweetly, “I’m sure you can stay at the temple of Madriel.”

Milo glances at her, and says, “I’ll consider it.” He steps out into the courtyard, to sleep under a tree in Fox’s garden. 



After lunch, rested, all of us go to the temple. 

On the way, Chuck and Jim both express a lack of trust for Delonia. Even though he doesn’t trust her, Jim thinks she could be used. 

We find Grilliam at the temple, in Verenia’s office. Verenia is seated, while Grilliam stands behind her right shoulder. Delonia is with them, standing in the far corner, and she meets Paks’ questioning look with a smile and a nod. She is no longer wearing the manacles.

Grilliam tells us, “I heard about your exploits, scaring off the smugglers and capturing this Delonia. You’ve proven your worth, and started to earn the money I gave you. Hello Jim, thanks for helping out. This is a very serious matter.”

“Yes,” Jim says, “Slaving is very serious.”

Grilliam looks at Paks. “Well, I’ve heard your plan for giving Delonia a chance. I’m willing to waive the death sentence if she helps you to get into the swamp and raid this trading post.”

“Yeah,” Jim says, “I think we could use her. That’s exactly what I want to do; this is a good group, and I think we could put an end to this smuggling and slavery, at least for now.” 

Chuck again suggests, “What about letting Thar have vengeance?” Everyone else ignores this, as it doesn’t fit with anyone’s plans. 

Miriel outlines the plan of posing as Delonia’s convoy, and asks Grilliam about providing us with some armed men. 

“I’ll have to think about that,” the priest of Hedrada answers. 

Jim asks Delonia, “How many men did you typically go to the swamps with?”

Delonia says, “Just a few. It wouldn’t be good if you showed up with a lot. I usually brought six slaves, with four men at arms.” 

Milo suggests, “It would probably be suspicious if you showed up with a halfling.”

Delonia shakes her head, and gives him a bright look. “No, we had plenty of halfling slaves. King Verduk has been selling you off.” Milo looks quite disappointed at this news.

“Could we really disguise ourselves as slaves?” asks Chuck.

“Sure,” answers Jim, with his customary optimism, “At least for a cursory inspection.”

“We could get up to the door at least,” asserts Miriel.

Grilliam decides, “I don’t think I can spare any men.”

“We could hire some men at arms,” Jim says speculatively, but then shakes his head and says, “No, I’d rather go with people we know and trust.” 

Miriel tells Grilliam, “Well, okay. I guess that’s why you hired us. Is there any help you can give us, though, perhaps some healing potions?”

Verenia glances at him, and then offers, “Yes. We can provide you with some healing potions.”

Jim says, “I think the group of us can handle a group of rat men.”

“Ten, yes,” Paks says. “Hundreds, no.” She looks over to Verenia. “Did Delonia convert?”

The high priestess tells us, “No, she has not converted. However, Grilliam has waived the death sentence if she helps us, on her solemn word of honor.”

“Excellent,” Paks says, giving Delonia a warm smile.

“We are agreed, then,” Miriel says. “We’ll go back to the inn and rest; it’s been a long day. But we’ll set out for the swamp tomorrow.”

As the rest of us leave, Verenia takes Miriel aside. “Grilliam and I,” she tells the young priestess, “Have laid a _geas_ on Delonia to ensure that she assists you faithfully.”



Back at the inn, we talk over our plans and what has happened so far. 

“Is there anything else we should do, before we set out?” asks Paks.

Chuck suggests, “We could tell the harbormaster about Thar’s experience, to see if we can find out anything about the island.”

Goldpetal disagrees, pointing out, “We already know that we’ve been watched in that part of town.”

“We could have Grilliam send someone,” Miriel suggests.

Milo suggests, helpfully, “Of course we don't want to go to the harbormaster during the day, but I can go down there unseen in the evening.”

Miriel looks at him firmly. “No. We should let Grilliam do it.”

Paks asks Fox, “Where might we hire men at arms?”

The innkeeper answers, “All the adventuring types in town are already with you, and there are no real mercenaries around. You might be able to hire some wanderers down at the docks, but I’m hardly sure I’d trust them.”

“Can you leave a message for Stone,” asks Chuck, “And tell him where we’re going?”

“I’d be glad to,” Fox says. Chuck takes him into Fox’s office, and shows him the map, and where we will be. 

We all go to sleep. Delonia and Milo stay in Goldpetal’s empty room; nobody else will trust them, and Goldpetal wants to go out to the outlying woods near town to meditate.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #5: The Smugglers, Episode 5 of 5*

We awake before dawn for our morning meal. It is the 14th of Charder. Fox provides a bunch of old blankets and rags, for our ‘slave’ disguises. 

Just after dawn, before we set out, Verenia shows up, unexpectedly, looking for us. “I had a very prophetic dream last night,” she says. “A giant swan came to me and gave me this prophecy, and showed me much about your future.” 

*Verenia's Prophecy*

_“Many perils lay before you,
It will be long ere we meet again,
And some of you may not return. 

Three titans bestride your path
Mormo, Chern, and Gormoth:
Wicked, vile, and tormented. 

Witch of Red, Witch of Green
Serpent mother Mormo
Is their Queen. 

Beware the Witch in Green
For she is death! 

Beware the Witch in Red
Filled with deceit and lies,
Still the truth will out. 

Chern, lord of disease,
His minions fester like
a fouled wound. 

Gormoth, the Warper,
Twisted, Lord of Pain
His torments a final test. 

Milo, newest companion:
Between light and dark lies shadow.
Your lot has been cast,
But for good for ill? 

Goldpetal, Faithful of Denev:
The land is wounded, it cries out in pain!
The marsh is twisted, foul.
All is not what it seems. 

Chuck, the Bereaved:
You stand between two great losses.
One behind, one before you.
The trial will make you stronger. 

Jim, ever Vigilant:
Beware the twilight and its warden.
Many are seeking you,
Do not be found! 

Paks, Brave swan:
Madriel has chosen you,
Tempered in a forge of trouble,
Are you worthy of the Redeemer? 

Miriel, the True:
Gifted healer!
Your skills will be sorely needed!

At your time of greatest fear,
Surrounded by suffering and pain
Remember Madriel's Tear!”_​We sit in silence for a moment, very impressed. Verenia says to Miriel, “This was a real sign. Our temple has long hidden one of Madriel’s greatest artifacts, Madriel’s Tear.” 

She takes a small phial of crystal out of her robe, and gives it to Miriel. There is a glint of gold inside. “Our legend is,” she says, “That after Madriel tricked her mother Mormo, this is the tear she shed for her betrayal of her mother.”

We have all heard some version of this story. Mormo was Madriel’s mother, the queen of serpents, full of magic and lies. Madriel helped the gods fight her by using her powers of healing. Her healing powers were painful and draining to Mormo, since she was full of evil and pain. Madriel regretted having to do it, and it was very traumatic for her, but she was compelled to, to help the people who were being destroyed by the titans.

Miriel asks, “Was there more to the dream?”

Verenia says, “No, this very dire prophecy was all. I wish you the best, and I will ask Madriel’s blessing for you.” She closes her eyes. “Blessed Mother,” she intones. “Grant your blessings to these, who you have chosen, as shown to me in your dream. They travel into darkness; let them always know your light.” 

As her words conclude, we each feel a shiver of chills run up and down our spine. The power this priestess possesses is incredible, and we feel the power of her blessing. When the moment has passed, she says. “And here, take these.” She hands Miriel two more healing potions. We already had one; Miriel distributes the three potions, one each to Chuck, Paks, and Jim, who are most likely to need them. 



We leave for the Mourning Marsh, following the ever-familiar road south towards the ruined tower. It’s an overcast, grey day. We’re traveling with five horses altogether. Jim’s horse is a fine, bay stallion named Star, which he is riding. The two good horses, which we borrowed from the inn, are hitched to pull the cart. Nobody is riding in it; Paks is driving. We’re trying to spare the two nags which we captured from Delonia, for the trip into the swamp, so the rest of us are walking alongside. Goldpetal is in the lead, while Chuck walks at the back of the company, the better to keep an eye on Milo and Delonia.

As we walk, people try to refine the plan.

Milo suggests, “When we get to the swamp, why don’t some of us ride ahead and scout, while the cart comes behind? We could leave the horses nearby to help with our escape if needed.” The rest of us had been planning on leaving the best horses at the swamp edge, and taking only the slowest nags into the swamp.

Jim says, “The swamp is very dangerous, and your asking for a swift death if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“We should stick together,” Miriel says, “If it’s as dangerous as Jim says.”

“I think we should visit the standing stones,” Goldpetal says. “They’re marked on the map.”

“I’ve been up there before,” Jim says, “But it’s been a while. Maybe we should check them out to see if people are worshipping the Titans again.”

“We should stick to our plan,” Paks says.

“I may be able to extract some information from the land there,” Goldpetal offers. 

“Is it out of our way?” asks the warrior.

“No,” Miriel says, “The road marked on the map leads from there.”

Jim nods, “Yeah, that’s how I remember it.” 

Milo asks, “Delonia, have you gone there?” 

With the threat of a death sentence no longer hanging over her, she is much more cheerful, and has been displaying a sunny, pleasant disposition. “Sure,” she says. “We used the standing stones as a landmark to find the road to the swamp.” 

“You never actually got close to the stones?” asks Milo.

“Oh, no,” she answers fervently. “We never climb up the hill. That’s where people worshipped Titans. It’d be crazy to go up there!” 

Paks says, “Those of us with metal armor should be guards; that would be me and Jim. Delonia will drive the cart; the other four of you are the slaves.” 

Though Milo and Chuck grumble at this, when Miriel agrees with good grace, the plan is set.



We move more slowly at the pace of the cart than we have while walking to and from the tower, so it’s getting dark by the time we reach the tower. We go in to the tower, and begin setting up camp. Milo goes up to the second floor, the roof, to see what he can see. Chuck brings up the ladder from the room below the trap door.

Jim asks, “Should we put a bale of hay over the trapdoor?”

Paks smiles. “We’ve done that before,” she says, “But no. If anybody comes, we want to hear them. Should we set an alarm with something noisy, maybe some chains or manacles?” 

Jim looks at her judiciously. “I know an _alarm_ spell.” He casts it, and then explains, “If any creature larger than a small rat crosses the threshold of the tower, or even enters that room beneath us, the spell will make an audible noise that ought to wake us all.”

After camp is made, and Miriel has cooked dinner – and she is a fine cook, whose meal is as satisfying as most served in the Laughing Ogre – Jim says, “You know, this is the first time we’ve all been just sitting around together. Do you have any questions about the swamp? I’ve been there a lot.” 

“Are there rodents of unusual size?” asks Paks, jokingly.

Jim smiles. “Yes, lots.” 

“So, what are the worst dangers of the swamp?” she inquires. 

“Well, the ratmen, of course,” he replies. “There are many tribes, always warring with each other. There are the Diseased who worship Chern; they infect humans and free them into the population to spread disease.” 

“Are they the poison makers?” asks Chuck.

“No, those are the Forge Crawlers. I don’t know them, but I’ve heard about them. Then there are the Gorgers; they feasted on the blood of Gurak the Ravenous, and now they're filled with an unquenchable hunger. They really like to eat people. Then there are the Twisted, they might be even worse, they worship Gormoth the Warped. They’re all mutated, with extra arms, legs, double tails. They like to take human prisoners, torture them, and perform foul experiments on them.” 

“You know,” Delonia says, “SySy is part of a tribe of witches. I think they worship Mormo. I know she can cast spells.”

Goldpetal asks Jim, “Are there elves in the swamp?” 

Jim looks at Goldpetal thoughtfully. “When I explored the marshes, there were a lot of elven ruins. I think elves used to live there. Once I penetrated deep into the march and I saw this giant tree, swarming with ratmen; I think it used to be an elven city. Now it’s been made into a ratman city.” Goldpetal looks horrified. 

“Why is the swamp so terrible?” asks Milo, curious.

It is Paks who answers. “Saraya tells the story that, when the gods killed Chern, they interred his body under the Mourning Marshes, and that’s why it’s become so twisted and vile.”

“That’s true,” says Jim. “And the Diseased tribe has been striving for generations to bring him back.”

“Could they really do that?” gasps Miriel, aghast. “How?”

“I have no idea,” he says. “I don’t believe they could, but, then again, who knows.” 

Milo chimes in, “Even if they could, the gods defeated him once, and now it’s nine to one!” 

Goldpetal shakes his head. Though his features are young and fine, his eyes look very old and sad. “You are too young to remember, but the Titan’s War is not something any of us would wish to experience again.”

“Personally,” Jim adds, “I don’t ever want to see Chern. He caused enormous devastation among elves and men; they say he destroyed a whole race of elves.” 

Goldpetal says darkly, “He did worse than that.” 

A melancholy silence overcomes the party. Not even the warmth of the fire cheers the room. After a time, Jim changes the subject. “Be careful not to stray too far from each other or even off the path; there are some dangerous creatures in there.” 

“Do the paths shift?” asks Goldpetal. 

“Sometimes,” Jim says, nodding, “Especially near the swamp hag's place. She has all sorts of tricks, and she’s tamed all sorts of nasty beasts.” 

Paks starts on her initial line of inquiry again. “We’ve already run into giant spiders and spider-eyed goblins. Are there creatures in the swamp which are unrelated to the ratmen, but equally harmful?” 

“Sure, tons,” Jim answers cavalierly. 

“Like what?” 

“Giant frogs.” 

Paks smiles, looking at him quizzically. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” 

Jim explains, “They have sticky tongues which can pull you into their maws.” 

Paks asks “How big are they?” 

“Twenty to twenty-five pounds.” 

“I could handle that!” Paks exclaims, confidently, patting the hilt of her trusty longsword.

Jim just shakes his head at her. Ironically, now he is as disgusted by her optimism as she has been by his. “There are also giant lizards, as big as ponies with giant spines. There are mire worms, twenty feet long with poison that will kill you almost immediately. There are snakes, rats, mosquitoes, giant insects, and spider-eyed goblins, but the rat men like to capture and eat those.

“There's also the hag,” he says, “The locals threaten their children with her, saying that if the children aren’t good, the swamp hag will come and put them in her Death Bag, from which no child has ever escaped.  Whether that’s true or not, we should definitely avoid her. She knows all sorts of spells, primarily illusions, and there’s rumored to be some connection between her and panthers. We’ll stay away from her.

“And then there's one more thing. Have you ever heard of Swamp Gobblers?”  Jim looks around at all of us.  We all shake our heads.

“This is another great old legend. They're supposed to be weird creatures; they sort of look like furry bipeds and they’re voraciously hungry. Usually you can get rid of them just by giving them food and they’ll go, but if you fight, they’ll be vicious.” Jim glances at Milo. “The story is that they’re a race of halflings who found themselves in trouble and prayed to Enkili for luck. Enkili answered their prayer, and said, ‘Yes, but you must play a game with me.’ They agreed, and he pulled out a huge die, with many facets – over three hundred sides, and on each was written a different number. 

“He told them, ‘I will roll this die once. If I roll anything but 162, I will lead you to a place where you'll be free from trouble. But, if I do roll 162, you'll have to live with my curse.’ The halflings tried the die a few times, and debated whether or not they could trust Enkili. But, the die seemed fine, so they decided to take the bet. What they didn't know is that the die always came up to the number of pimples on Enkili's ass, which he can change at will. So, they lost, and they were turned into hairy bipeds that are always hungry – swamp gobblers! They steal food. At least, they start with food, but then they steal and eat the horses, and then the people.” 

This story, too, is met with a lengthy silence, as we all contemplate the wisdom of bargaining with the Trickster, Enkili. Paks glances surreptitiously at Delonia, but the sorceress is staring into the fire, lost in her own thoughts. Finally, Miriel asks Jim, “Do you know the trading post, and that part of the swamp?” 

“No, not really,” he replies.

“Why do you go to the swamp at all?” asks Goldpetal. Thanks to Chuck’s keen eyes and knowledge of the Vigil, we suspect that he is a member of a sect of the Vigil whose task is to watch the swamps and the ratmen. The elf, however, wants to see what Jim will tell us. 

“I go on missions,” he answers, with apparent candor, “Keeping tabs on the rat men. They’ve been more aggressive and vicious lately.” 

Paks asks, “What’s typical in an establishment like the trading post? How well staffed is it likely to be?” 

“It depends on the tribe,” Jim tells her. “If it’s the Disease tribe, they’ll be very well organized. The gorgers, on the other hand, aren’t very organized.” 

“What if it’s the tribe of witches?” 

Jim shrugs. “I don’t know about them. All the tribes have huge warrens underground, though.” 

With these fine thoughts, we trail off to sleep, one by one.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

On the third page!?! This should not be. (And it won't, if I can help it).

Excellent as always.


----------



## Amaroq

Thank you. Its so nice to feel loved! 

Sorry that this week's episode has been so late in coming, I've been tied up in work with a big deadline looming, and haven't had time to integrate my editor's comments. I should be posting it later this evening, however.

The plot begins the first cycle which developed towards our current epic storlyine, and one phrase of Verenia's Prophecy is explained.

Incidentally, our next play-session is tomorrow, which will be Issue #28 - we've a long way to go, yet, to catch up!


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #6: The Raid on SySy's Compound. Episode 1 of 5*

3rd of July, 2002​*Issue #6*
*The Raid of SySy’s Compound*​
_We have discovered a ring of smugglers, who we believe are sending human slaves to the ratmen in exchange for ratman poisons. In our first raids on the tower, we broke the central links in the chain, capturing the sorceress Delonia and several of her henchmen. 

We tried to stop the first link, the de Asuras family connection, by lying in wait at the tower and feigning to be Delonia and her cronies. However, the sorceress escaped her captivity in Southport, and called a warning to the smugglers as they came ashore. The smugglers escaped our trap and fled to the safety of their ship. The only victory we can claim is having recaptured Delonia. 

Now, we have decided to raid the final link in the chain, the compound of the ratmen who are willing to trade with humans, led by the witch SySy. Paks has convinced Delonia to serve at our sides, and she is accompanying us on our way from Southport to the Mourning Marsh. Many of the company do not trust the sorceress, but Grilliam, the priest of Hedrada, has laid a geas on her to compel her trustworthiness. _


We awake, having camped at the ruined tower, after an uneventful night’s sleep. It’s morning on the 2nd Belsaday of Charder, 150 AV. It’s a gorgeous day; the sun is shining, the sky is cloudless and very blue, and there is a brisk breeze coming off from the ocean. The breeze is welcome, as it promises to be a very warm day. 

We are on our way to the Mourning Marshes, to check out the trading post run by SySy, the rat woman witch. It’s still most of a day's travel to our next planned campsite, the ruins of the standing stones, so we get up early and begin preparing to go. 

As she serves breakfast, Miriel says to our guide, “Jim, that story you told last night kept me up.”

“Which one?” the tall Vigilant asks.

“About the ravenous halflings,” she says. “I was wondering, can we mix something in the food, to slow them down? You said they took the food first, then the horses...” 

Jim smiles at her. “They’re really not that dangerous.” 

“Well, you sure scared me with that story,” she says.

“We could probably find something in the swamp, if we had to.” 

Milo, the sneaky halfling who followed us to the tower, asks her, “Would we drug the food and leave it around?” He, too, has been adopted into our group, though the general consensus is to keep a watchful eye on him. Chuck, in particular, seems mistrustful.

“No,” Miriel says, “We’d throw it to them, like wild dogs.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me!” says the halfling.

Jim chews his food unconcernedly. “Sure, we can do something,” he says.

“Introduce them to the pleasures of rum,” jokes Paks.

Milo takes her seriously. “Do we have any?” he asks, wide-eyed. 

Goldpetal, the elven druid, steps through the door of the tower, returning from his morning meditations.  He’s apparently heard some of this as he approached, as he is shaking his head. “Drink makes some creatures more aggressive.” 

“I’m just scared,” Miriel says, as she finishes her meal. “I want to be prepared.” 

Paks sees that everyone has finished eating. “It’s getting late,” she says. “Let’s continue this while we walk.”



We pack camp and set out. To spare the horses, we all walk, leading the horses and cart. The road ends a little ways south of the tower, along the coast.  Looking south, we don’t see anything for miles, just a vast, gently rolling plain. Our destination, a circle of ancient standing stones, lie well to the west, far inland.

Goldpetal inquires, “Is there a high point on the way that we can see the ruins from?” 

“No, the ruins are the high point,” Jim tells him. “It’s strange. It’s very flat all around the hill that the ruins sit atop. We can go up there and see for miles, though.” 

Delonia shudders. “We never went there,” she says.

Our journey continues through fields broken by the occasional small copse of trees. Once we pass between the two forests, we occasionally see abandoned farmhouses. Jim says that they’ve been abandoned a long time, with the ratmen and the swamp hag in the area. 

Around midday, we can see the hill of the standing stones off in the distance. We’ve seen the usual creatures of the sky and fields, but no people, ratmen, or sign of monsters. 

We approach the hill in the mid afternoon. As we draw near, Goldpetal looks around for places to hide, in case we have to run from someone at the ruins. There are plenty of little copses. 

“We should look for a campsite,” Jim says, “Obviously, we don’t want to enter the swamp at the end of the day, and spend the night there.” 

“Definitely not,” agrees Delonia. “We can use our regular campsite.”

“Can it be seen from the hillside?” asks Goldpetal, glancing warily towards the standing stones, which loom ominously above us. 

“No,” she answers with a shake of her head. “It’s fairly well-concealed.” Chuck, though he doesn’t say so, thinks that was to be expected, since they were bandits and smugglers traveling with slaves. 



When we reach the foot of the hill, a few minutes later, there is a brief discussion.

“It looks too high and steep to bring the horses and cart up,” Chuck observes. 

“We’ll leave them down here,” Jim asserts. “It only takes half an hour or so to climb. Who’s coming with me?”

Miriel looks at the horses. “We’ll be able to see for miles,” she points out, “And there’s no cover here. We could just watch the horses behind us as we climb, and all go up the hill.”

Her suggestion is adopted, and we hobble the horses. The way is steep, and we are quickly winded. It takes, as predicted, half an hour to reach the top. 

At the crown of the hill, there is a ring of ancient stones, oblong and almost rectangular in shape. Many are standing, and each is at least ten feet tall, as much as five feet wide, and easily three or four feet thick. Some others have been pushed on their sides, and a few are broken, but we can still the circle they once made. In the middle, at the center, the highest point of the hill, there is an old stone table. We are all tired and hot from the climb, but it is quite windy at the top and we cool off quickly.

Goldpetal and Chuck scan the area for tracks, but the top is hard-packed dirt with scattered gravel, and neither of them can find much.  

Jim calls Chuck over to the stone table. “Chuck, what can you tell from this?” he asks, in the tone of a teacher with a student. He points at some brown stains on the table.

Chuck looks at it, but the look of confusion on his face is clear indication that he’s not able to tell much from it. “It’s dried blood?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yes. Look here. This blood isn’t very old,” Jim says, “A couple of months, at most.” He explains to Chuck how to judge the age of the blood, gauging its color and how much of it has flaked away due to erosion from the wind and rain. 

Chuck asks, “Can you tell what kind of blood it is?”

“Only that it’s from a mammal,” Jim says.

Meanwhile, Milo and Goldpetal examine the stones themselves. Milo counts twelve stones. 

Into each of them is carved a symbol, a circle with wavy lines radiating from it. Each stone has a similar symbol, but with different numbers of radiating lines. There doesn’t seem to be any pattern to them. Under his breath, as he examines one, Goldpetal mutters to himself, “This is the symbol of Gormoth, the Warper!” 

Milo overhears him. “The Writhing One?” he asks, peering under Goldpetal’s elbow.

Goldpetal looks at him sharply. “How do you know that?” he demands. “I though his name had been forgotten by mortal men.”

The halfling shrugs and looks evasive. “You hear things,” he says, “Things to avoid.” 

Goldpetal’s voice grows intense. “Have you met his followers?”

“No, no!” Milo insists, looking around for help. Luckily for him, the others, having completed their investigations, walk up just as he is sweating under Goldpetal’s glare.

Paks, looking at the stones, asks Goldpetal, “Whose symbol is that?” Milo looks grateful, as she has distracted the elf from his intent inquiry.

“Gormoth the Warper,” says Goldpetal, with his favorite lecture voice. “Who took creatures both mortal and immortal, and warped them into vile and hideous forms. It makes sense, for the spider goblins are his … or once were. They might not still be.”

Milo looks torn between the desire to be forgotten about, and curiosity. Curiosity wins out. “What happened to him after the war?” he asks. 

Goldpetal says, “He was cleft in half and his two halves were placed on the sides of a giant canyon; they reside there still.” 

“Where?” asks Milo.

“No one knows,” Goldpetal says. “His followers have been searching for it for many years, for they hope that by sacrificing creatures they can bring his two halves together again.” 

Milo wanders away, looking around on the ground, perhaps to let the others distract Goldpetal, or perhaps to see if there’s anything we’ve missed. 

“I know a little about Gormoth, too,” Jim says. “Legend has it that he wasn’t always so twisted and evil. He was once known as the Lifegiver. The story I’ve heard is that he was the first to create the living races, and the other titans were jealous. They were so jealous that they poisoned him. Of course, no poison could kill a titan, but the poison caused Gormoth constant pain, and the pain gradually warped him. Now, his followers are always sadists.”

Goldpetal takes Miriel aside. “Can you consecrate this ground?” he asks.

Miriel shakes her head. “No,” she says. “That’s way beyond me.”

“Oh,” Goldpetal says, looking at her. “I didn’t think it was that advanced.”

“Maybe not,” Miriel says, “But it’s still beyond me.”

“Can you at least detect magic?” Goldpetal asks her.

“Yes.” Miriel takes a moment of prayer to Madriel, and begins casting _detect magic_. 

As she invokes the ritual, the rest of the group gathers around Jim, who points out landmarks in the surrounding terrain. To the east, we can see the ocean and the spider wood, although the ruined tower is too far away to see. To the south, the land slopes down to a marsh, edged with stunted trees. It’s not so far; we could reach it with a ninety minute walk. The marsh goes on as far as the eye can see, a soggy land dotted with lakes. It is covered with trees, twisted and dripping with moss. To the west, slightly to the north of due west, we can see some fields and an orchard or two. Jim identifies this as Kratys Freehold, the only farmstead this far south. He tells us that Taryn Kratys, who fought in the battle of Two Trees many years ago, runs it. 

Although the day is sunny and warm, and Paks is wearing chain mail, she shivers. “I feel very uneasy here,” she says. “Let’s go back down.”

Miriel has finished casting her spell, and says, “I can see why. There are faint traces of a strong evil, all around this place. It’s very much the feel of the titans.”

Goldpetal smiles grimly, and says, “I never thought I’d say it, but I wish Stone was here. He could move these stones easily.”

“Maybe we could do it?” asks Chuck.

Jim nods thoughtfully, and says, “With a couple of days of work.”

Milo suggests, in a rapid-fire babble of excitement, “Could we make the earth softer with spells? And tie a rope around one of the stones, bringing the horses up to move it?” 

Miriel shakes her head. “Let’s just stick to our mission. Delonia, can you point out anything else?”

Delonia points out the path, little more than a dirt track, which leads south of the hilltop towards the swamp, following the meandering course of a nearby stream. We can’t see much of where it enters the swamp because of the trees. The track looks little-traveled, and would have been easy to miss without her experienced eyes. She points out the area of the campsite in the streambed, but it really can’t be seen easily. 

Milo notices a lot of burned areas among the stones. He looks up to Delonia. “Could we see a torch, up here, from the campsite?”

“Certainly,” she says, nodding her head. “The top of the hill is visible for miles around.” 

We head back down the hill, and begin walking towards the campsite, which is about half way between the hill and the swamp, less than an hour away. Chuck keeps an eye out for other people, but we see no one.


----------



## Amaroq

As we walk down off of the hill, Goldpetal walks beside Jim. “Have there been any unusual disappearances in this area?” he asks.

Jim nods his head grimly. “Yes, ever since the hag moved in.”

“Are you sure it was the hag?” the elf asks. 

“Well, that’s what people assume.”

A few minutes pass in silence, and then Goldpetal asks, “How long has it been since someone was seen in the ruins?”

“No one knows,” Jim says, “So few people come this way. We could talk to Taryn Kratys after we visit the swamp. If we could see his farmstead, he could certainly see any lights up there.”

Goldpetal looks determined. “After we get back from the swamp, we should pull the ruins down,” he says firmly.

Jim shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says. “That’s a big job. And it’s not so smart to anger the titans. Maybe you should get some more druids?”

“They need to be pulled down,” Goldpetal says, grimly, but he says nothing more. We travel the remainder of the hour in silence, stopping only to pick up the horses and cart, from the base of the hill.

When we reach the campsite, Chuck suggests, “Let’s camp in our slave disguise.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Miriel says. “If somebody scouts us, we should look the part.”

In disguise, Delonia, Jim, and Paks are “guards”, while Milo, Goldpetal, Miriel and Chuck are the captured “slaves”. The four “slaves” cover their armor with the tattered blankets. We set watches; the watches are shared by one of the “guards” and one of the “slaves,” as it is only the “slaves” who can see in the dark. 

“We usually have a campfire,” Delonia says, so Chuck lights a small fire. Milo asks to be woken if any strange lights are seen on the hill. Delonia stands watch for the “guards”.

Goldpetal volunteers to stand the first watch for the “slaves”. To Milo and Jim, he seems grim and distant. Paks and Miriel, perhaps more perceptive, think that he seems almost terrified, after our trip up the hill. 



During the third watch, shared by Jim and Chuck, the two Vigilants see a light to the east. It looks like someone holding a lantern. Jim tells Chuck to wake everyone else up, which he does. 

“I think that’s the hag,” Jim says. He gives us instructions quietly. “Get in a circle, and keep the fire lit. I think she’s going to cast a spell. She won’t attack us all together, so keep together near the fire and don’t believe in her illusions.”

Miriel performs a quick, quiet, head count, and Milo is nowhere to be seen. 

The hag has drawn close enough that everyone can see her by the light of her lantern. She’s over seven feet tall, fat, green, and hideously ugly, with a big nose and an undeniably female figure. She is holding a lantern, and carrying a large sack over her shoulder. Seeing the sack, we remember the story of her death bag. 

The rest of us draw our weapons, and throw off the blankets. The hag doesn’t seem to notice us, and moments later, she’s past the camp, walking away quickly towards the swamp. 

Paks whispers to Goldpetal, “Remember, that may be an illusion. You’ve the best eyes in the dark. Let’s watch the perimeter of the camp, while they watch the hag.” Goldpetal nods, silently, and they step away from the group, both armed with bows, but neither of them see anything. They both listen carefully, but can hear only the wind. 

The hag disappears into the distance, but we can see the light of the lantern for almost half an hour until she disappears into the shelter of the swamp.  Nothing else disturbs the silence of the night, and it is only as we begin to relax that Jim notices that we are missing our smallest member. 

“Hey,” he says. “Where’d that sneaky guy go?”

“I woke him up,” Chuck says, “So I know he was here.”

“He must have slipped off immediately,” Miriel says, “Because he was gone by the time Jim told us all to stick close to the fire.”

Nobody is interested in searching for him, and we begin to settle the camp for a return to sleep. Jim and Chuck still have the watch, but none of us have found a restful state when we hear Chuck yell, “Halt! Who goes there?” 

We all draw our weapons, to discover that Milo has returned to the camp. His shoes are very muddy, and he appears very animated. “C’mon guys, get up! We should follow her,” he says excitedly. “I snuck up behind her in the shadows, and followed her to the swamp. I had to run to keep up with her! She was mumbling to herself. I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but it didn’t seem like a spell, just the mumblings of an crazy old witch. Her lantern is the skull of a ratman! Anyway, I followed her as far as I could, but the ground got mushy and started slowing me down, and I didn’t want to sink into the muck. She was going southeast – we should follow her!”

Goldpetal asks, “Was her sack moving?”

“No,” Milo says. “Come on! We should follow her, now, if we’re going to.”

Jim shakes his head. “I don’t think that taking on the hag, with a bunch of neophytes, in the middle of the night, in the swamp, is a good idea.”

“Why?” Milo asks. “She can see in the dark?”

“Have you ever met a swamp hag?” Jim asks incredulously. “Not only can they cast illusions, they also have creatures, great snakes and panthers, that help them out. I think we should just leave her alone.” 

“Do you know anything more about her?” Milo asks.

“She’s a monster,” Jim says, but he won’t say anything more.

After a minute’s silence, it becomes clear that nobody is interested in Milo’s plan of following the hag, and everyone begins settling back into their blankets for the evening. The halfling sits down, but his curiosity won’t let him rest just yet. “Did Mormo get along with Chern and Gormoth?” he asks, to nobody in particular.

Jim answers him wearily. “Titans don’t get along with each other at all, or anyone else. Right, Goldpetal?”

Goldpetal nods. “Yes. The titans hate each other, and many of them hate everyone else.”

Milo says, “Maybe, then, the swamp hag won’t get along with the ratmen!”

“That’s why the Vigil have left her there,” Jim says. “As a buffer.”

“That’s what Fox said, too.” Paks contributes.

Milo says, “We could ask her to help us against them.”

“Would you trust her?” Goldpetal asks doubtfully.

“As much as you trust me,” Milo says with a level smile.

“Swamp hags don’t like anyone, either,” Jim says, “Except as dinner. Whose watch is it next? I’m tired of this guy Milo.”

Milo shakes his head. “I’m astounded that people aren’t more interested in this idea,” he says, with the overwrought dignity only a halfling can assume.

Miriel speaks with the firm voice of authority. “Milo, we need to rest for the trip to the swamp in the morning. Let’s go to bed.”

“Yes, mistress,” Milo says, his voice instantly meek. He appears cowed, and settles under his blanket.

We return to bed, and the rest of the night passes without incident.


----------



## Amaroq

Dawn breaks on Vanday, the 16th of Charder, and we begin to break camp. It’s another nice day, still fairly hot for early autumn. We’re not looking forward to being in the swamp in this heat. We leave the two good horses, and Jim’s beautiful mount, Star, at the campsite, hitching the two nags to the cart for the trip through the swamp.

We get back on the road, with the two horses pulling the cart. Paks and Jim walk ahead, in the role of guards. Delonia drives the cart, with Miriel, Goldpetal, Chuck and Milo disguised as slaves, their weapons hidden near them in the back of the cart. Chuck sits at the back of the cart, watching alertly behind us, his hand resting on his hidden bow. 

We can smell the swamp before we see it. The land gets damp, and as we enter the swamp, Delonia reminds us that we have to be careful to stay on the path. Jim echoes that sentiment. The road gets muddy, and the cart moves more slowly. The trees themselves look twisted and stunted, and are overgrown with moss, which seems to hang from every branch.

We reach a small stand of trees; just in front of it is a stand of marsh grass. To the east, our left, we see a pair of crossed poles with Slytherin pelts tacked to them. “That’s a territory marker for the hag,” Jim tells us, pointing it out, “A warning to the ratmen to stay out.”

“Who built this road?” asks Goldpetal, curiously, from the confines of the cart.

“No one knows, slave,” Jim answers, “This wasn’t always a swamp, and the road is probably from that time, before the Titan’s War.”

“What comes next?” Miriel asks Delonia, her voice low.

“The trading post is still a couple hours down the road,” the sorceress answers.

The ground gets muddier, and the cart keeps getting stuck. We’re constantly slapping at mosquitoes and bugs. After a time, Jim stops us, moves off to the side of the road, and cuts off a piece of a spiky ferny plant. He says it’s called Hag’s Tongue, and that the sap will repel bugs. We smear it all over ourselves, and it works immediately. He shows everyone how to identify it. Miriel asks about any offensive plants, such as poisonous ones. Jim warns her to keep an eye out for a plant with a blue flower. 

After about half an hour, the firm road dips through a small puddle, about a foot deep, with a spit of sand off to one side. Paks is about to step onto the dry sand when Jim grabs her, shaking his head. Without a word, he picks up a rock and throws it into the sand. To her surprise, the rock slowly sinks into it.

“Quicksand. Let’s stay on the path,” he reminds her. “Chuck, you know how to recognize quicksand now, right?”

“What is quicksand?” asks Paks, eyeing it distrustfully as she walks past.

“One of the hazards of the swamp,” he says. “It’s basically just ordinary sand, so saturated with water that it no longer supports any weight. If you get stuck in it, lie still, and let me rescue you. Any movement you make will just dig you deeper into it, but if you just lay still, you should float on it.” 



An hour later, we’re still slogging through the swamp. The poorly marked road isn’t straight, winding around over the few dry spots. As we go around one turn, it winds through a large pond. 

As we pass between the sections of the pond, a giant frog jumps out of the water. It aims to jump on top of Paks but falls short, landing right next to her. It’s the size of a medium-sized dog, at least. From the other side of the path, another frog shoots its tongue out and grabs Goldpetal with it. He is wrapped up with a sticky tongue, and it starts to pull him in. 

The frog next to Paks bites her, leaving a nasty wound. The other one pulls Goldpetal partway into its mouth, and begins chewing on him. He screams in pain and terror. 

Jim swings at Paks’ frog with both swords. He wounds it with the long sword, and Paks adds a solid blow with her sword, but it is still moving. Miriel throws a sling bullet at that frog as well, but the stone bounces harmlessly off its thick hide. 

On the other side, Milo moves to the edge of the cart, where Goldpetal was, and throws a dart at the other frog. He aims over Goldpetal's head, and his dart sticks into the frog’s side. Chuck pulls out his bow and fires at the frog. The arrow goes right through its head, but it’s still gnawing on Goldpetal. It’s practically swallowed him, although he still has his head and one arm free. Goldpetal manages to pull his dagger out, and tries to slash at the frog. He can’t get a good angle, and his struggles are futile.

Delonia has been chanting and gesturing, and she finally casts a magic missile at the frog swallowing Goldpetal. Clearly hurt, it spits Goldpetal out of its mouth, and makes a huge, sixty-foot leap back into the water, disappearing under the surface. The other one follows suit, disappearing into the water on the other side, and the swamp is quiet again. 

Miriel asks Delonia, “What were those frogs? And why didn’t you warn us about them?”

Delonia tells us, “There are monsters in the swamp, but usually, if you can hit them once, they’ll go away. They’re just trying to get a free meal. I’m just happy it wasn’t anything worse!” 

“I tried to use _animal friendship_ on them,” Jim tells Chuck, “But it didn’t work. I’m sort of surprised at that.” The Vigilant are rumored to have the ability to temporarily befriend wild animals, but this is the first that any of us had had that ability confirmed, save Chuck, of course.

Miriel invokes the powers of Madriel to heal Paks and Goldpetal, and we begin to move along the path once more. Delonia estimates that we’re about two hours away from the trading post. Miriel meditates in the cart as it moves down the path. 



The swamp doesn’t feel at all natural, and we begin to have the feeling that we’re being watched. Chuck looks around to see if he can see anyone, but if there are watchers, they are well hidden. 

After about half an hour we reach another wooded area, a little drier. We come to an abrupt halt, as a ratman dressed in leather armor and a woolen cloak, steps out onto the path.  He has five amber medallions on his belt, and two long swords, sheathed, one at each hip. His fur is pale grey, and his black, beady eyes regard us implacably.

“Halt, Traitor-Spawn!” he demands. “You are trespassing on the sacred lands of the Slytherin, profaning the holy earth with your presence.” Five more rat-men have appeared out of the swamp, surrounding the cart and cutting off any retreat we might make.

Paks looks at Delonia expectantly, with the dumb look of a guard to her mistress. Delonia takes her cue, and addresses the ratman. “We’re just traders, bringing slaves to SySy, as usual.”

“I’m the Twilight Warden for this sector,” the ratman says. “Why wasn’t I notified? I didn’t hear anything about any humans.”

“We come here every month!” Delonia insists. “Didn’t the trader tell you about us?” 

“This is the land of the Slytherin,” the Twilight Warden intones. “You do not belong.”  He steps forward, and inspects the cart, sniffing around all of us. When he scents Jim, he gives him a long strange look. 

“You’re no slave trader,” the Twilight Warden says.

Jim tries to play innocent. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve smelled Vigilants like you before,” the Twilight Warden says. “I smelled your presence as soon as you entered the swamp.”

Paks looks back and forth from Jim to the Warden. “What do you mean?” she bluffs. “We’re mercenaries. I’ve hired out with him for years!”

Jim and the Twilight Warden ignore this, concentrating on each other. “I’ve heard of you Twilight Wardens,” Jim says. “You’re a shallow mockery of the Vigilants.” 

They stand very still, measuring each other. Suddenly they both cross their arms and draw all four swords simultaneously. Jim shouts, “Leave this to me!” and begins trading rapid blows with the Twilight Warden. 

The rest of us are not about to let him fight alone. We draw our weapons, and the five other ratmen rush at us. Two of them are at the front of the cart, with three of them near the rear. 

Goldpetal gets off the first shot, grazing the one nearest the front of the cart. Paks steps towards that one with her long sword, but he parries her blow with his scimitar, and his counterattack hits her hard. The other one engages her from behind, but she sidesteps his blow. 

Milo deftly tumbles out of the cart with his short sword, attacking the one closest to the cart, but it dodges his blow, and hits the halfling hard in return. Miriel steps to the side of the cart and stabs down with her spear at it, but she misses.

Two of the ratmen rush at Chuck with scimitars drawn, as he is slowest to react to the situation, watching his master’s battle. The first gives him a nasty wound across the chest, while the second misses. Chuck finally gets both swords out, but he is unable to counter effectively. 

Jim and the Twilight Warden continue to trade blows, almost faster than we can see. Delonia stands up in the front of the cart and casts a _magic missile_ at the Warden. The magical bolt hits him, but he seems unfazed. The Warden whips his tail around, grabs Jim by the leg, and trips him, but Jim rolls back to the side of the cart and pulls the ratman down with him, grappling with him on the ground. 

At the front of the cart, the horses are panicking, rearing and snorting. Goldpetal attempts to calm them, but they’re too afraid of the ratmen and all the flashing weaponry, and he can feel his control slipping. Delonia casts another _magic missile_, this time killing the ratman in front of Paks. Paks swings around, stepping away from the horses, and catching the ratman that was behind her with a big swing of her long sword. It crumples to the ground, dying.

Chuck, Miriel, and the three ratmen at the back of the cart exchange blows. The largest of the three ratmen hits Chuck again. The two heroes, outnumbered, are unable to penetrate the guard of the ratmen, and fight to hold on until help can arrive.

Milo moves toward the Twilight Warden, trying to distract him. Jim stands up, and aims a kick at the Warden, waving Milo away. The ratman rolls away, moving towards the woods. He stands up, and he and Jim start trading furious blows again. 

Goldpetal continues to try to calm the horses, but they are frightened by the smell of blood, and start pulling the cart down the path towards Paks! She dives off the path, barely out of their way. Miriel falls down in the cart, but Chuck and Delonia roll out of the cart to land near Paks. 

Delonia stands up and casts a _magic missile_ at one of the ratmen that were behind the cart. It crumples to the ground. Paks charges another, stumbling and missing. The two surviving ratmen try to take advantage of her momentary lapse, but she blocks both blows with her shield. Chuck stands up and pulls out his bow. 

Milo flanks the Warden and attacks it, hitting, but not doing much damage. Jim hits the Warden as well, and nicks one of the pouches off of his belt. The Twilight Warden steps back and casts a quick spell. Vines grow out of the ground, wrapping Milo up and trapping him tightly. 

The cart plunges off the road. Miriel helps Goldpetal as they desperately try to calm the horses. The cart is well off the track into the marsh, but they finally succeed, stopping the horse’s panicked flight. Miriel takes the reigns from Goldpetal, as he turns to regard the rest of the scene.

Delonia has cast some sort of glowing, electric nimbus onto her right hand, and she runs towards one of the ratman attacking Paks to try to shock it. One of the serpent vines trips her, and she stumbles, falling flat on the ground. The ratman buries his scimitar in her back, and she screams in pain and fury. 

Chuck fires an arrow at the ratman attacking Paks. It dodges, but takes its eye off of Paks momentarily, and she steps inside its guard and runs it through. At the same instant, Delonia grabs the ankle of the ratman who just hit her. The electrical nimbus on her hand courses through its body. It convulses, eyes open in agony, and falls forward, dead. 

The Twilight Warden, all of his assistants dead, dashes away past Jim, towards the pond. Jim swings at him as he passes, but cannot connect. The Warden starts walking across the marshy water. Jim touches his medallion, and he is able to run across the water in hot pursuit. Goldpetal and Chuck both fire their bows at the Warden, but miss. Goldpetal is in the back of the cart, while Chuck is moving slowly along the road, keeping the range to the Warden as low as he can. 

Miriel calls out, “Everyone come over to the cart,” as Milo finally frees himself from the entangling vines. 

Paks gives Delonia a hand up, saying, “Nicely done, there.” When Delonia is on her feet, Paks goes and picks up the pouch that the Twilight Warden dropped. 

Jim catches the Twilight Warden, and they start trading blows yet again.  The ratman repeats the trip with his tail, and they are grappling on the surface of a patch quicksand.  Suddenly, Jim’s medallion falls off. Fighting furiously with each other, they both begin to sink rapidly into the quicksand!



Chuck howls “No!” in horror, and begins running towards the patch of quicksand. Goldpetal jumps out of the cart, runs to the edge of the marsh, and throws his rope towards Jim. It falls short. Milo, Chuck and Paks reach the edge of the marsh moments later. Paks has drawn her short bow, and she shoots at the Twilight Warden, but her aim is off. As Goldpetal coils his rope back for another throw, Chuck throws a second rope to Jim. This rope reaches the Vigilant, and he grabs it and starts pulling himself out. 

The Twilight Warden grabs Jim around the neck, pulling out his dagger and cutting the rope just above Jim’s desperate reach. Milo throws a dart at the Twilight Warden and hits it, just grazing him, while Paks misses again with her bow. Chuck recoils his rope to throw again, while Goldpetal rushes back to the cart to get his bow. While we are all focused on Jim, Delonia starts searching the bodies of the ratmen. Miriel can do nothing but watch, holding the horses steady.

Jim struggles, but his struggles are just costing him valuable ground, and his head slips under the surface of the quicksand. The Twilight Warden takes a big gulp of air before he is pulled under as well. We lose sight of both of them.  

Goldpetal picks his bow out of the cart, but since he doesn’t have a target, he looks around to see if any reinforcements are coming. To the east, in some woods, he sees a black panther watching from one of the trees. It gives him a bad feeling, as if it is somehow unnatural. The elf knocks an arrow, and keeps a watchful eye on the panther, his bow aimed at the ground but ready at a moment’s notice.  

Milo grabs the end of Chuck’s rope and begins splashing through the marsh water until he reaches the edge of the quicksand. Without hesitating, he jumps into the quicksand, swimming out and diving down. He grabs someone’s hand. Chuck feels the added pressure, and starts hauling on the rope. Paks comes over to help, and the two of them begin reeling everyone in. Milo realizes that it’s not a human hand that has hold of his arm; it’s a claw. 

Milo tries to shake the claw off, but it just grips tighter. He feels the rope starts to slip through his fingers. Chuck feels the rope go slack. “Jim!” he screams out, and rushes through the marsh to dive into the quicksand, leaving Paks with the end of the rope. She splashes through the water to reach the edge of the quicksand as well. She sees Milo’s hand poke out of the quicksand for a brief moment, and she grabs hold with her left hand, holding the rope with her right. She tries to pull Milo out, but he slips through her fingers. He tries to take a breath, but he sinks under the surface again. 

At the cart, Miriel hands the reins to Goldpetal, jumps out of the cart, and runs over to help Paks hold the rope. It goes slack. Clearly nobody is holding on to it, but Paks and Miriel continue to brace themselves to pull, in case anybody grabs hold of it.

Under the quicksand, Milo feels the claw sliding off his arm. Below him, Chuck finds the bottom and manages to gain his footing, but he can’t find Jim. The quicksand flows like water, and it is very deep. Milo manages to drag himself to dry land, coughing. 

Chuck also climbs out.  He says nothing, determinedly stripping off his armor.  He grabs the rope, loops it around his body, and dives in again. Goldpetal joins the group, holding the rope with Paks. Chuck feels around, but he cannot find anything. He keeps searching until he can't hold his breath anymore, but he finds nothing. Paks pulls him back up out of the water. 

Chuck lies there, gasping for air. Paks says, with deep compassion, “Chuck, I think he’s dead.”


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #6. Episode 4 of 5*

We regroup beside the cart, at the side of the quicksand and marsh. Miriel tends to the injured, cleansing wounds and bandaging as best as she can. The rest of us wrestle the wagon back onto the path. It takes several minutes, even with Chuck and Paks lending their full strength. We’re lucky it didn’t get any deeper into the fen, or it might have been permanently mired.

Milo and Chuck are covered in muck, and both have numerous leeches. Goldpetal and Miriel help pull the leeches off, while Paks and Delonia keep watch. While they work, Miriel asks, “What is our point in going to the trading post?”

Paks says, “We’re trying to stop the trading in slaves.”

“We’re battered, and tired,” Miriel says, “And we’ve lost Jim. Can we really do it?”

“We should try,” Paks answers, firm with her conviction. “Do you think we should we rest for a while?”

“We haven’t seen anywhere safe,” Miriel says, shaking her head. “I don’t want to rest here in the swamp, that’s for sure.”

“We’re still being watched,” Goldpetal says ominously, though he doesn’t mention the panther.

“How many ratmen are there at the post?” Miriel asks Delonia. 

“I’ve seen maybe ten or so,” Delonia says. She hasn’t mentioned any of the things she found on the bodies, and doesn’t tell us now. “But I’ve never been underground, and there are probably more there. I think there’s a warren underneath.”

Chuck, who has said little in his grief, suggests, “We can subdue SySy, and get information from her.” He winces Miriel pulls off another leech.

Paks growls, “We’re going to kill SySy.”

Miriel shakes her head. “Can we do this alone? Remember, we have to get out of the swamp again. We left our other two horses, and Jim’s horse Star, at the camp, and these two horses aren’t going to let us move very fast through the swamp.”

Milo says, “Our only chance is to do it now.”

Paks asks, “Are you sure we shouldn’t spend the night in the swamp, to rest and recover?” 

“We don’t have time to recover today,” Miriel says. “We’d need to spend the night in the swamp to be well rested.”

“I don’t want to spend the night in the swamp,” Chuck says. 

“Nor I,” Miriel adds. “It isn’t safe.” 

“We could find a place as far from the water as possible,” Paks says. “If we set watches, I think we can survive a night in the swamp, and regain our strength.”

“How are we doing on food?” Miriel asks, considering the insistent warrior’s suggestion.

“I can find fish and waterfowl,” Chuck says. “Jim…” At the mention of his mentor’s name, he breaks off with a sigh. After several seconds of silence, he finishes his sentence, “Pointed out some mushrooms we could possibly eat.”

“We could just camp here,” Milo suggests brightly.

Paks looks surprised, but as she looks around, she sees that the ground that the Twilight Warden first accosted us on is a small hillock, up out of the water.  It’s large enough to camp, and could even provide a small grazing spot for the two horses. “Actually, yes,” she says. “This area seems fine. Chuck, what do you think?”

“Whatever,” he says, glumly.

“We have a long time to wait for dawn,” Miriel says, shaking her head, and plucking another leech off of Chuck’s back.

“Also,” Milo says, “I think we’re being watched by that panther.” The halfling points at the black panther which Goldpetal had noticed earlier. 

We all stare at the panther. It blinks, and yawns lazily, but stares back unabashed. 

“Jim mentioned a connection between the hag and panthers,” Chuck reminds us. “Remember how we saw all those Slytherin pelts on the crossed poles as we came along the path? Her domain is probably fairly near by.” 

“Whatever,” Milo says, “We’re still being watched. Hey! Ow, watch it!” This last, as Goldpetal plucks one last leech off his calf.

“I think that’s the last of them,” Goldpetal says, and Miriel concurs.

Chuck begins the long process of cleaning his armor. “This close to the trading post,” he asks, “Isn’t it likely that we’ll be spotted?”

“Delonia,” Miriel asks, “What kinds of patrols did you encounter on trips before?”

“I’d never seen a ratman patrol before,” Delonia answers. “We never met much other intelligent life. We usually just ran into a giant snake or spider or something.”

Goldpetal says, “The Twilight Warden might come after us...”

Delonia laughs. “The guy who we just saw drown in the swamp?” she asks derisively.

After a bit more discussion, we decide to rest where we are for the night, and continue to SySy’s in the morning. Miriel uses Madriel’s blessing to heal Paks and Chuck. 

Milo searches the bodies and takes five full waterskins. Delonia detects for poison in the water and finds none, though it’s not very pure. Milo starts washing with the water from the waterskins. Milo sniffs the ratmen’s clothing; it smells musky. 

Chuck and Paks stand watch, while Miriel, Goldpetal, and Delonia settle in the cart and start to meditate. Milo tries to clean his armor in the cart, but Miriel asks him to move, because of the smell. 

“Hey, Paks,” Milo calls, “What was in that pouch?”

She looks in the pouch. “Just this vial,” she says.

Milo takes the vial and examines it. “It looks really similar to the potion of _neutralize poison_ we found earlier,” he says. 

We rest and meditate for about four hours. When he is finished with his meditation, Goldpetal scans the brush for plants with healing properties, poisonous plants, or anything edible. Paks settles down to sleep. 

When Goldpetal returns, Chuck asks, “Did you find anything good, Goldpetal?” 

“No,” the elf says, looking down. “I’m out of my element.”

“Let me look,” says Chuck. He and Miriel both check all of the plants on our little island, but neither of them can find anything useful, either. Goldpetal climbs a nearby tree for his watch. He looks around, and sees nothing but swamp, as far as he can see. There are lots of trees, ponds, and birds. 

“Yuck, these bodies are starting to smell pretty bad,” Milo says, looking at the corpses of the ratmen. “Let’s throw them in the quicksand.”

Milo and Chuck dump the bodies. Milo keeps a cloak, and they toss all the scimitars into the cart. We discuss the watch order.  Goldpetal says he can watch all night, and Chuck doesn’t trust Milo to stand a watch, so the other three take turns. Since she just finished meditating, Miriel draws the first watch with the druid. Milo goes to sleep in a tree, hanging a Slytherin cloak in a tree further away, while Paks and Chuck sleep in the cart. Goldpetal stands watch from a tree, while Miriel sits on the cart. The night passes slowly, quietly, and although we hear insects and occasional hunting noises when a predator finds prey, we are not disturbed.



Dawn breaks on the 3rd Corday of Charder, the 17th day of the month, and we prepare to break camp. We refill the waterskins, and Miriel asks her goddess to purify the water. 

“Is it too early to show up at the trading post?” Paks asks.

Delonia looks dubious. “I’m not sure,” she says. “We always showed up sometime after noon.”  

Miriel says, “We can tell them a story of how we were attacked by frogs. Several of the slaves died, and we had to rest before finishing the trip.”

“Delonia, what is the trading post like?” Milo asks. “Is it a stockade?”

“It’s a small compound,” she tells us, “In a little U-shaped clearing, with hills on three sides. There are a couple of little buildings, which I don’t think they live in, given how they talk about the warrens. SySy’s representative usually meets me in one of these.”

“Wait,” Paks says. “We don’t get to meet SySy?”

Delonia shrugs. “Not usually.” 

“I can sneak up on the outpost,” Milo offers brightly.

“They might just see you and get their guard up,” Goldpetal says. As Milo shakes his head vigorously, Goldpetal stares at him sternly. “We saw you when you were following us,” he reminds the halfling.

Paks doesn’t like the idea. “It would be more suspicious to come in with two slaves than with three,” she points out.

“Maybe he could go in just a little way,” Chuck offers, “And then come back?” 

Miriel vetoes the idea. “We should just stick to the original plan,” she decides.

“But I like Chuck’s plan!” the halfling exclaims.

Paks admonishes, “We should just go straight in, slowly.”

“Yes,” Miriel agrees, and that settles it. With Jim dead, we defer to Miriel, and there is no further debate.

Chuck and Goldpetal search for breakfast in the swamp. They find some edible snails and drinkable water.  The rest of the group looks dubious about having snails for breakfast, but when Miriel cooks them, she turns them into something which smells so good, everyone winds up trying them.

Before we leave, Miriel meditates for an hour to learn a spell which she says will cause fear in our enemies. Goldpetal also meditates. 

While they meditate, Paks and Delonia discuss ways to ensure that SySy meets with Delonia. They finally agree upon a plan. They also decide that Chuck should take over Jim’s role as the second “guard”, even though that leaves us with only three “slaves”.


----------



## Amaroq

When everyone is ready, we pack camp and begin to proceed along the road. After an hour and a half deeper into the swamp, Delonia says that we're just down the road from the compound. In quick whispers, Milo again offers to jump out, but Paks insists that he should stay in the slave role. Paks asks Chuck to set up quick release ropes attaching the horses to the cart. Miriel reminds us that only Paks, Chuck, and Delonia can talk once we reach the clearing – everyone else is a slave.

As the cart pulls into the trading post, we see a few longhouses, made of local reeds and such, and one surprising house, of Veshian architecture.  The house wouldn’t have looked out of place on any of the streets of Southport. Though it’s a little run down, it might have been made by a good Vesh carpenter. There is a well, near the entrance, an old-fashioned well with a pump handle and some sluices. Past the well there are a number of trees, and some farmlands beyond that, where there may be some tubers growing. To the other side of the road, there are seven giant rats, fully the size of horses, grazing. Two ratmen, their fur a dark reddish-brown, and a few human slaves are herding the giant rats around. 

“Don’t worry,” Delonia says to Paks, “They’re just grazing the horserats.”

Paks looks very worried. “Don’t the horserats fight?”

“Yes,” Delonia says. “The ratmen ride them when they raid caravans. Surely you must have seen some, when they raided yours?” We had, in fact, and that’s what has Paks so worried. The horserats will be much faster than the two old nags we have, pulling a heavy cart through the swamp.

Delonia waves, and calls out, “Ho!” The two ratmen recognize her, and wave back. “The Veshian house is the trading house,” she says to Paks in a low voice, and she guides the cart up near the door. Some slaves come up to the cart and offer to stable the horses. 

Paks shakes her head. “We’re not going to be here very long.”

“Now we wait,” Delonia says out of the corner of her mouth. 

After a short wait, a tall ratman comes out of house. He, like the herdsmen, is a different color from the ratmen we’ve seen before, either on the caravan or in the swamp. He has some jewels beaded into his fur, and he’s wearing human clothing. Two ratmen warriors, armed with scimitars, stand behind him.

“Hey, Delonia,” he says, stepping up to us.

“Hello, Eltron,” she says.

“We’ve been expecting you,” Eltron says congenially. “Come inside.” His voice has a rich, cultured accent which comes as a complete surprise to Paks and Chuck, who were expecting him to sound more barbaric.

The two ratmen warriors guard the slaves, while Eltron, Delonia, and her two “guards” step into the meeting house. 

Inside, it’s just like a cozy Veshian house, with a nice fireplace, though there is no fire. The table is set out with mushrooms, potatoes, and a pitcher of wine. Over the fireplace there is a banner, with a red and black design of a skull and serpent inside a star. 

“Always a pleasure to see you, Delonia,” says Eltron. “It’s nice doing business with you. What have you got for us today?”

Delonia sighs. “I’m afraid we ran into trouble in the swamp,” she says, “and lost some slaves. I have only three to offer.” 

Eltron looks sympathetic. “Yes,” he says, “It’s tough for you humans in the swamp.”

“Yeah, the giant frogs attacked, and escaped with two of my slaves!” she says. Casting a dirty look at Chuck, she says, “These new guards aren’t so good.” 

“Hey,” Eltron says, “What happened to those other guys? They were good drinking buddies.”

“We had a bit of a falling out,” Delonia says, “And had to part ways.” As they chat, Chuck takes the opportunity to surreptitiously look around the house. He notices some knotholes in one of the side walls, around eye level. He can’t tell if there are eyes in them, but there is no light shining through them.

“How’s Virilius?” the ratman asks. 

Delonia nods. “He’s doing well.”

“Good. It’s always good doing business with the de Asuras. So, anyway, for only three slaves I can only give you half as many poisons as I gave you last time. Maybe I can throw in some glitter ink; you seemed to like it.” 

Delonia looks disappointed, but nods again. “That’s fair. My losses aren’t your problem,” she says. “Speaking of Virilius, he asked me...” she pauses, and appears to consider her words. “He has a deal he wants to discuss with SySy. I’m afraid I have to negotiate with her and her alone.” 

Eltron looks hurt. “You can’t talk to me about it?” 

Delonia shakes her head. “I was instructed to talk to her alone for this one.” 

Eltron looks her in the eye for a moment, considering, then agrees with her request. “Okay,” he says, “But only because you represent one of our best customers. Virilius is Virilius, after all. I’ll go ask my mistress if she’ll talk to you.” 

“Thank you,” Delonia says.

“Enjoy the refreshments,” Eltron says, and leaves the three of them alone in the guesthouse. Delonia nibbles politely at the food, but Paks and Chuck, in their role as guards, do not.

Chuck peers through one of the holes, but it’s dark on the other side and there is nothing to see. He examines the floor, looking for tracks in the dust. He sees footprints leading to one of the panels in the wall with the knotholes, and suspects that it might be a hidden door. He didn’t get a good look at the house from outside, however, and can’t discern where it might lead.



Eltron returns after about ten minutes, with a large ratwoman. She is a little bigger than Eltron, and her fur is also reddish, with strange patterns shaved out it, and little trinkets woven into the rest. 

“Hello, SySy,” says Delonia, as they step through the door.

“It’s nice to see you again, Delonia,” the witch replies. “Let Virilius know we’re very satisfied with our business. Now, what is it you want to discuss?” 

Paks steps forward, between SySy and Delonia. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but we’re here to put a stop to this business. We’ve already put a stop to Virilius.” Without further preamble, she draws her sword and leaps forward to attack.

Despite her obvious surprise, SySy dodges that first blow. Chuck rushes over, with his longsword in one hand, and the glowing magical dagger in the other. He steps between SySy and the door and attacks her. He also misses, but the two guards have bought enough time for Delonia to cast a spell, and a _color spray_, a rainbow fan of brilliant light, bursts from her fingers and sprays across SySy and Eltron. 

SySy appears to be blinded, but Eltron can still see. Though unarmed, he rushes forward to attack Delonia, the source of the spell. He tries to claw her with his claws and bite her, but she nimbly escapes his clutches. Paks swings at SySy again, and the blinded trader cannot see to dodge the blow. The young warrior hits the rat woman, wounding her deeply. 

Outside, everyone can see magical light streaming out of the doorway of the house. The two ratman guards turn to look, turning their backs to the slaves. They talk to each other quickly in rat language. From their body language, the three “slaves” guess that the conversation is something like, “Holy Mormo! What’s going on?”

The ratmen draw their weapons and step towards the door to investigate. As soon as they pass the cart, Goldpetal draws his scimitar to pursue them. 

One ratman steps inside, while the other looks in from the door way. Chuck turns and attacks the one which steps through the door, and kills him. The other one tries to slash at Chuck from the door, but hits the doorframe instead. Chuck turns to SySy to swing again, but when he swings at her, he slips and falls to the ground, barely hanging on to his weapons. 

As Chuck falls, clearing her field of fire, Delonia casts _burning hands _ on the three surviving ratmen. Jets of flame spray from her fingers, scorching each of them. Eltron screams in pain and collapses to the floor, and the ratman outside the door dies as well. 

SySy, blinded and burned, yells, “I surrender!  Please, spare my life!”

Goldpetal, outside, couldn’t hear her. He rushes through the door, unaware, and swings at SySy with his scimitar. Paks leaps forward to parry his blow with her long sword. “Hold!” Paks yells in a commanding voice. 

When Goldpetal relents, Paks takes her sword and puts it to SySy’s throat. “Don’t speak, don’t move, don’t look at me funny,” she growls in SySy’s ear.

Milo runs to the door of the house. “Miriel,” he calls quietly. “Get inside and close the door!” Miriel, still sitting in the cart, is watching the ratmen in the fields. None of them seem to have noticed anything strange, so she walks casually over to the house, enters it, and shuts the door behind her.



Inside, Chuck improvises a blindfold and a gag, and manacles SySy with her hands behind her back.

“Let’s take her back to Grilliam,” Miriel says.

“Yes,” Milo agrees quickly.

“We’re in good shape,” Paks says. “Do we want to clear out this place?” 

Goldpetal says, “Do we know we knocked out the leaders?” 

“I think so,” Paks says.

Milo asks, “Do we want to take that chance?” 

“Let’s get ’em while we can,” Paks says.

“If we stay,” Miriel says, “We should question SySy to find out about the defenses here.” 

Paks shakes her head. “We can’t trust what she would tell us, and she might try to cast a spell.” 

“Why press on?” Delonia asks. “We got what we came for.”

“I want to kill as many as we can,” Paks says.

“As do I,” Goldpetal says firmly. “They’re unnatural.” 

“There will be fewer chasing us,” Paks points out.

Milo glances at the door, a clear reminder that time is precious. “Let’s vote,” he suggests. “I vote we leave immediately.”

“So do I,” Miriel says.

“Me too,” Chuck adds.

Delonia adds, “And I.”

It’s clear from their shaking heads that Goldpetal and Paks do not agree, but Milo says, “That makes it four to two.”

“Three to two,” Chuck corrects. “You don’t get a vote.” 

“Very well,” Paks says. She steps over to search Eltron, SySy, and the dead ratman. She finds some vials in a pouch and two rings on SySy. The rings are both silver; one has a gold circle mounted on it. She also finds three polished rocks and some spell components, which she takes away. Eltron has forty silver pieces and nothing else on him, even weapons. 

While Paks searches the bodies, Chuck examines the far wall, with the suspicious knotholes. He finds a secret door, and figures out how to open it. 

Milo turns to Delonia. “We voted to leave,” he says, and gestures to SySy. “Help me get her in the cart.” 

Delonia glances at Paks, but nods, and tells him, “Okay, give me your cloak.” 

Behind the secret door, Chuck sees a small standing area, with a ladder going down. He stares down into the darkness below. Delonia helps Milo get SySy wrapped in the cloak, looking like a large parcel. 

Miriel calls, “Chuck, shut that door. Block it, and come out with us.” She looks around at the rest of us, and says, “We’ll have to hurry.” SySy struggles and makes some noises, until Paks puts a blade to her throat. We ready ourselves at the front door for the dash to the cart.



Miriel throws open the door, and Milo and Delonia carry SySy outside. The slaves in the field turn to look at us. One of the ratmen herding the horse rats, seeing “slaves” leaving with us, becomes suspicious. He yells to us, “What’s going on?”

Paks yells back, “She gave us a rug!” She still has her long sword out, pointing at the bundle.

The ratmen don’t buy it. They attack.

Milo drops SySy’s feet, and runs towards the charging Slytherin. He throws a dart at the leader, killing it with a perfect shot through the eye. As the second reaches him, Paks interposes herself, blocking his blow, but their first cross of swords unbalances her, and he knocks her to the ground. He is quick to capitalize, hitting her while she’s down, and injuring her badly. 

The ratman shouts something in Slytherin with a commanding voice, and the largest three horserats raise their heads. As the rest of the group step out of the house, the three horserats charge to attack. The slaves look like they’re in shock.

Chuck draws his bow, and shoots at the ratman above Paks. He hits it in the side, and it yells a battle cry, enraged. Miriel guards Chuck’s back, putting her back to the outside wall of the house and watching to see if reinforcements arrive, either from the slaves or from the other buildings. 

Goldpetal comes out and casts _entangle_ at the horserats and slaves. The grasses come alive, firmly wrapping two of the horserats, and all but one of the slaves. The last slave runs for the hills.

Delonia is still carrying SySy by the shoulders, dragging her to the edge of the cart. Once there, she finds that she can’t lift the bound rat woman alone. “Someone help me get SySy into the cart!” she shouts.

The leading horserat charges clear of the entangled area. It leaps into the air and lands on Milo, pinning him beneath its horse-sized body and biting him. He is badly mauled, and lies unconscious and bleeding on the ground. 

Miriel runs over to Delonia and tells her, over the sounds of battle, “Drop her! Get that rat off of Milo so I can heal him!”

Delonia responds, “Convince the slaves to help us!” 

“In the name of Madriel,” Miriel calls to the slaves, “Join us!” They are firmly entangled, and look very frightened; none come to our aid.

As Paks, badly wounded, staggers to her feet, five more ratmen come running out of the house behind us. They, too, bear the wickedly curving scimitars which have become all too familiar. Paks swings weakly at the Slytherin who had wounded her, but she is barely able to cross swords with him. 

Chuck shoots his bow at the horse rat on top of Milo, but his arrow flies too high, going over it into the fields. Goldpetal steps up to the horserat and slices it deeply with his scimitar. Keeping Milo pinned beneath one claw, it whips its head around with lightning speed and bites the druid.

Delonia bravely steps between us and the approaching ratmen. She yells a word of power, casting _burning hands_. A fan of flames burst from her fingers, burning and wounding them, but then they are upon her. The first one misses wildly, but the next two to reach her connect. Scimitars savagely tear at her unarmored body, but somehow she stays on her feet. The other two run around to strike at Miriel, who is invoking Madriel.  Just before they can reach her, she casts _cause fear _ on the horserat, but her attention is so focused that she cannot dodge. The first critically wounds her, knocking her back, and she is very lucky that the second one misses.

Paks finally connects with her tormentor, and a solid blow slays the wounded ratman. As she frees her sword from his body, she can see that the slaves in the further fields have seen the battle, and are running away from it, towards the largest building, one of the long lodge huts. 

As the terrified horserat leaves Milo’s broken body on the ground and flees away from Miriel, Chuck and Goldpetal step to the rescue of the two wounded spellcasters. Chuck’s bow fires at one of the three ratmen attacking Delonia, and the arrow slices through its rough armor and penetrates its heart, killing it instantly.

Goldpetal furiously charges the two attacking Miriel, killing one in his initial rush and interposing himself between her and the second one. Delonia drops back behind the two men, and casts another _magic missile_.  Two glowing energy bolts streak from her fingers, connecting, one each, with the other two ratmen who had injured her. They both collapse to the ground, dead. 

The fleeing horse rat reaches the edge of the entangle field and is quickly trapped by the writhing grasses. His fear has transmitted itself to the other two, which are struggling to break free. The further one does so, and flees rapidly across the fields.

Paks runs over to Milo to perform first aid. He is bleeding badly, and she can see that he is on the verge of death. In desperation, she mimics what she has seen Miriel do, and invokes Madriel. When she says the name of the goddess, she feels a healing power coursing through her hands, and Milo’s wounds seem to knot beneath her. Within moments, he has stopped bleeding, and then his eyes open. He is conscious, but barely so, and clearly groggy and disoriented. Nobody else witnesses this miracle.

Miriel stabs at the last remaining ratman with her spear, but she is not well used to the weapon yet, and her miss leaves an opening for his scimitar. He slashes her across the chest, and she collapses at his feet. He raises his scimitar above his head, perhaps to yell in victory, perhaps to deliver a coup de gras. We will never know, for Chuck’s arrow buries itself into his throat, and he falls backward, dead. 

None of the ratmen are standing, and for a moment the field is ours, quiet. We see that the two horse rats have worked their way to the far side of Goldpetal’s entangling grasses, and are running away from us.  



Paks runs to Miriel’s collapsed form, and she pours the healing potion down the priestess’ throat.  She looks better; stable, but still unconscious. Chuck gives her the other, and she wakes up.

As Miriel summons the healing powers of Madriel to further heal her injuries, Paks calls to the entangled slaves, trying to rescue them. “We’re here to free you,” she yells.

The closest slave yells back, “We were well treated here, much better than in human society! Why should we want to be freed?” 

Paks looks very surprised. “You want to stay?” she asks, in utter confusion.

A second slave yells, “People are poor and hungry in human society!” 

“We’ll take you to a temple,” Paks promises. “They’ll feed you and clothe you.” 

“A temple?” asks the first slave. “Who leads the prayers to Mormo?”

“They pray to the gods,” Paks says.

“Traitor gods!” yells the slave, his voice filled with passionate venom.

Paks looks very concerned. “I think you’ve heard a distorted story,” she tells him.

“Well, that’s not what SySy told us,” the second slave insists, struggling to free himself. All of the slaves are firmly entangled, however.

Miriel says to the others, “Let’s get SySy into the cart, and get ready to get out of here.” 

Paks gestures behind her, where Chuck and Goldpetal are lifting SySy into the back of the cart, and Miriel is helping Milo up. “We’re taking SySy with us,” she tells them. “Would you like to come with her?” 

Two of the slaves looks frightened, as though the thought of SySy leaving is terrifying to them “What are you doing with SySy?” the bravest one asks, the first time he has spoken.

“She needs to come talk to Grilliam,” Paks says, firmly, but as though it were a social call.

“Grilliam?” the first slave asks, “What are you talking about?” As the entanglement subsides, the two frightened slaves drop their tools, and back away and bolt. 

“Don’t listen to them,” the last slave says, walking towards us “I’m coming with you! I remember what it was like. Get me out of here!” 

As he reaches us, Miriel heals Delonia, who clearly needs it, and Goldpetal. Milo is still in bad shape, and lies in the bottom of the cart, barely able to recognize his surroundings.

Paks asks the slave, in a more normal voice, “Are there any other slaves who want to come?” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. There are maybe twenty-five others.” 

“How many ratmen?” Paks asks. 

“I don’t know that, either,” he says. “There’s a complex under here, but it’s very dark and I can’t see in there.” 

“Are there hundreds?” Paks asks, nightmare visions of pursuit in her mind. 

“Not hundreds,” he says, “Maybe twenty, maybe fifty. It’s all the same to me! They smell like rats, they look like rats, and they serve us rat food. Please get me out of here!” 

Paks helps the freed man into the cart, where Goldpetal gives him a packet of trail rations. He looks extremely grateful, and begins ravenously devouring it as though it were a noble’s feast. “People food!” the freeman exclaims, “Thank you!" 

Paks gives him one of the scimitars. “They will chase us,” she warns. “Use this to defend yourself as best you can.”

We leave the encampment with our prisoner, SySy, manacled, gagged, blindfolded, and wrapped in a sack in the bottom of the cart. Paks drives the horses, while Chuck and Goldpetal watch out the back with their bows ready to discourage pursuit.


----------



## Broccli_Head

Dang! What's with Chuck and his mentors? They keep dyin' on him   

Nasty fight, that. Are you using many house rules for your fights? They seem bloodier and lots of the fighters fall down. 

Love the story and am loving the Scarred Lands. Is it really as tough as they say?


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

For some reason, Milo reminds me of the Peck from Wulf's story hour. Only he's braver so that may not quite be just.


----------



## Amaroq

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> Dang! What's with Chuck and his mentors? They keep dyin' on him




It sure makes it tough to find somebody who's willing to train him.   

Seriously, that was Verenia's prophecy, after all: 
_Chuck the Bereaved:
You stand between two great losses.
One behind, one before you.
The trial will make you stronger._​
From which we players can only presume that Jim's death was scripted..

The one that really cracked us up was in this most recent session, when, for the second time in his career, Chuck gambled in a bar and, for the second time, a bar brawl ensued in which he got stabbed with a dagger...



> Nasty fight, that. Are you using many house rules for your fights? They seem bloodier and lots of the fighters fall down.




Not particularly; we have two interesting house rules, which you can find detailed at the group's site 

http://www.ave6.net/joshwitz/dnd/
See (http://www.ave6.net/joshwitz/dnd/house_rules/) for a discussion of this topic. 

Basically, we have a spell point system instead of individual spell slots; you can memorize the same number of spells, but you use the spell points to pick and choose between them. It winds up being a great advantage for a low-level caster, a great disadvantage at medium-levels (when you have to choose between dropping, say, three third level spells in an orgy of casting, or spacing it out with a bunch of low level spells), and coming back strong at very high levels. It also puts a great premium on, say, having an 18 int as a Wizard.

We also play with a custom fumble/crit system. Fumble check on a 1, crit check on your threat range. The roll to confirm looks something like this:
Fumble
1 ==> Stunned, prone, loses weapon DC20, and generates AoO
miss ==> Stunned, off balance, loses weapon DC15 and generates AoO
hit ==> off balance (init=0, flatfooted)
20 ==> saved yourself, normal miss​Critical
1 ==> Normal hit
miss ==> Max damage
hit ==> Max damage + (Multiplier - 1) * Die roll
20 ==> Max damage * Multiplier​The fumble-on-a-1 system typically winds up generating attacks of opportunity, and dropping somebody to the bottom of the initiative order. Other than that, nothing dramatic.

Chuck goes down a lot because he uses the two-weapon fighting, with only leather armor, so his AC wasn't too impressive at low levels. Paks got pretty unlucky on her hit die rolls for 2nd and 3rd levels, which didn't help; Stone missed a few sessions and fell behind in XP, relative to the rest of the group. And, of course, our wizard support at this point was spotty at best: Brunhilde? Delonia?



> The Scarred Lands. Is it really as tough as they say?




I think our DM made it a tougher world by putting us on a 25-point ability buy system.. its been a while, but I think Paks started with something on the order of 16-13-12-10-10-10. Which doesn't net much in the way of bonuses.. some of the other players went with something like 16-14-13-10-10-8, but nobody went all-out for those 17's and 18's, and I don't think anybody had two 16's, either. (That's certainly the answer to, 'Does nobody make their saves?', from an earlier post... if a fighter put a 16 into strength, he doesn't have exceptionally good saves.)

Also, most of this far was very low-level; primarily first and second. We got a little bit better at staying on our feet when we bumped up a few levels... and the plot started to feel much more epic. In particular, I like the way characters and plot elements from these early episodes show up even two years later, it very much makes the world feel like a living breathing place.



> Love the story and am loving the Scarred Lands.




The Scarred Lands world offers much more scope for divine-level plots... if the Gods themselves physically walked the earth only 150 years ago... you expect them to continue to take an interest in what happens there today.

I've very much been enjoying writing it; our DM is quite creative, and was responsible for one of my all-time favorite 'My god, that was evil' plotlines... which I shan't spoil for you by describing here!


----------



## Amaroq

One question for you readers, as well. What aspects are you enjoying hearing? In general, is there anything you'd like expanded on, or anything you'd like compressed into summary form instead of detailed? Or shall I just carry on the course I'm on?


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

The aspects that I've been enjoying:
1. Characters who seem to have somewhat real concerns and who are on a human scale. I particularly enjoy seeing a reasonable facsimile of Paksenarrion transplanted into the Scarred Lands.
2. A world that seems to have a history before the arrival of the characters and events occuring in the background (every episode doesn't hit the reset button).
3. Plots that seem to take reprecussions of events and ideas into account.

I have to admit though that the introductory attack and the harrowing flight from the rat men was what drew me in to the story hour. (However, I wouldn't recommend that your DM kill the party again just to make me happy 

Oh yeah, I enjoy the level of detail and attention right now. Don't change anything unless it's to make it better.


----------



## joshwitz

Basilisk: Thanks for the kind words regarding: points 2 and 3.  I think Amaroq has posted up to July '02.  We're still going strong (we just played a session yesterday!), and there hasn't been a total party kill yet.  (There were a couple close calls, however.  See introduction of Jim the Vigilant, which was a total improvisation that I worked into the story later.)

Broccli: You recognized Kratys Freehold?  That was from an issue of Dungeon Magazine from the early 90's!  It's about 10 years old!

Amaroq: It's great reading about our adventures.  Thanks for writing this.  I wouldn't worry about your presentation.  I think it's perfect.


----------



## Broccli_Head

joshwitz said:
			
		

> Broccli: You recognized Kratys Freehold?  That was from an issue of Dungeon Magazine from the early 90's!  It's about 10 years old!




Yup! Seems like I played it about that long ago too! Great low level adv!


----------



## Amaroq

Well, points 2 and 3 are entirely joshwitz's fault - I can't take any credit for that! I'm currently designing a world preparatory to starting a campaign in mid-summer; I'll be keeping those points in mind, certainly.



			
				Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> The aspects that I've been enjoying:
> 1. Characters who seem to have somewhat real concerns and who are on a human scale.



We're lucky enough to have several players who are very much into playing a role; have more thatn once had a player say "Well, as much as I hate to do this, it's what [my character's name] would do..." So writing that has been made easier; I do ocassionally slip in additional external scenes.



> 1.a. I particularly enjoy seeing a reasonable facsimile of Paksenarrion transplanted into the Scarred Lands.



*big grin* I've very much enjoyed exploring her character development.. in fact, the upcoming episodes begin some of the character changes which you'll be familiar with from other work.



> I have to admit though that the introductory attack and the harrowing flight from the rat men was what drew me in to the story hour.



Thank you; that was my most creative work thus far - I took the one paragraph description joshwitz had given us, and blew it up into a complete story. 

I'd been rewriting the episodes, but I did it in chronological order, taking less literary license with the early episodes, and taking more literary license with the later episodes; I wrote the Prelude after writing about fifteen or eighteen episodes, so hopefully the story hour will continue to progress towards that style. My editor, a work colleague, has been giving me less and less commentary - last episode, she was joking about, "I don't know if its that the story is more dramatic, or your writing style has gotten better, or if I'm just getting lazier..."


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #7: The Red Witch - Episode 1 of 5*

28th of July, 2002​*Issue #7*

*The Red Witch*​
_For two weeks, after the destruction of our caravan, we have been investigating the smuggling ring which passes through the ruined tower, seeking to put a top to the human-slaves-for-ratman-poisons trade. We took out Delonia’s crew, the ones who were using the tower as their base. However, the ship, from House Asuras, escaped our trap at the tower.

In a daring raid, we entered the compound of the rat-woman trader SySy, the final link in the chain. We killed some of her closest guards, and captured the infamous SySy herself. With the witch tied and gagged, we have all piled into the back of the cart. Now, we face a desperate journey through the treacherous swamp, expecting the pursuit to be hot on our trail._


Paks drives the horses at breakneck speed, a dangerous task on the treacherous path through the swamp, but she manages to keep the cart on the narrow road. Chuck and Goldpetal guard our backs, with their bows drawn and an arrow knocked. Delonia, Miriel, and Milo have all been wounded, and ride in the cart, exhausted, with the one slave we managed to free. Beneath them, our prisoner is wrapped in a big burlap sack at the bottom of the cart.

After almost half an hour of madcap flight, our elderly horses are clearly tiring, and we haven’t seen any signs of pursuit. “I’m going to stop for a moment,” Paks calls back, and when she finds a small, solid area, she reigns the horses in. “We’ve been either been extremely lucky,” she says, “Or one of the gods has favored us today, because the cart hasn’t put a wheel off the path. That would have been disaster with all this water and quicksand everywhere. I don’t think we should press our luck further, though; I’m going to get out and lead the horses.” She steps down from the cart.

“What if we’re caught?” asks Miriel.

“These nags can’t outrun horserats,” Paks says, “And we’ll never make it out of the swamp if we founder in quicksand.” 

As Paks begins to walk the horses along the road, Chuck gets out to walk behind the cart, keeping his bow ready and a sharp eye out along the trail behind us. It’s shortly after noon on the 3rd Corday of Charder.

As we walk, the former slave introduces himself as Nik, and we all give him our names.  He again expresses his thanks for our rescue.  We had given him a scimitar, but now he sets it aside, saying that he doesn’t know how to use a sword.  Miriel loans him her dagger.

Paks urges the horses to make as much speed as she can, but they are tired and can only make a walking pace.  Paks must also take care to keep us safely on the path, which is rarely clear. Miriel, Goldpetal, and Delonia have exhausted much of their magical powers, and they try to meditate as the cart bumps and rumbles along.  Milo also sits in the cart, resting as best as he can, but he keeps a close guard on SySy, who, manacled, gagged, blindfolded, and wrapped in a big burlap sack, lies still on the floor of the cart. 

We are all on edge, jumping at every sound, and even those resting in the cart get little benefit from it. If there is pursuit, we manage to stay ahead of it, and our luck continues to hold, for we encounter none of the denizens of the swamp which had troubled our journey inward. 

After seven hours of constant nerves, we are all thoroughly exhausted.  The horses have slowed to a near crawl, but we reach the edge of the swamp at sunset, with no incident. We press on to our campsite, a short ways north of the point where the road enters the swamp.



It’s nearly dark when we reach our campsite, and to our surprise there’s a fire burning at it. Chuck is the only one of us who feels well enough to investigate, and he presses forward under cover of the falling darkness. He slips out of view, as quietly as he can. He’s impressively silent, displaying adeptness for it which would have made Milo proud.

He is gone for only a few minutes, and returns with a smile. “Good news!” he exclaims. “That fire belongs to Stone!” 

“Really?” exclaims Miriel. We’re all equally surprised. “What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Chuck says, “But let’s camp with him.” 

As we arrive at the campsite, Stone greets us with a wave. Our half-orc companion has been a stalwart companion, and Paks and Miriel exclaim happy greetings. Even Goldpetal looks relieved. Miriel cooks dinner, while Chuck and Paks make camp. Milo is, once again, nowhere to be seen.

As he disengages from Paks’ warm hug, the half-orc looks at Delonia. A dangerous look crosses his face, and he touches one hand to the hilt of his dagger. “Wait. What’s she doing here?” he growls.

“She’s working with us, now,” Paks answers with a smile.

Stone looks at Nik. “And who’s that?” he asks, relaxing from his hair-trigger alertness.

“I’m Nik,” the freed man answers. “These folk rescued me from the ratmen.” 

The half-orc sits down. “This sounds like quite a story,” he says, settling back to enjoy the tale. Chuck proceeds to tell Stone the story of our adventures, with helpful interruptions from Paks and Delonia. 

When we tell Stone that we’ve captured SySy, he goes to the cart to look at her. He reaches into the cart, and Milo springs up. They are both surprised! The monk nearly punches the halfling, but when he realizes that no threat is being offered, he halts his blow.

“That’s Milo,” Chuck calls. “Milo, this is Stone. Milo’s the little sneak we saw in Southport.” He goes on to tell Stone how we met him in Southport shortly after Stone left. “He’s been pretty useful,” Chuck admits, “But I still don’t trust him.” Stone sizes Milo up, and then looks away dismissively, spitting into the fire.

Over dinner, we ask about Stone’s adventures. He tells us how he accompanied Brunhilde to Lave, and then came back to search for us. He tracked us as far as the campsite, which he had reached this afternoon, but had decided to get a good night’s sleep there before plunging into the swamp after us. Chuck asks him about a fresh scar on his right arm.

Stone chuckles. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. There were a couple of bandits on my way back to Southport. Hardly worth mentioning, they barely gave me a fight. I got a bit of a knick when I blocked one’s sword with my forearm.”  It looks like it’s mostly healed already, and doesn’t need any further healing.

When we have finished our meal, the conversation becomes jocular, with most of us in a self-congratulatory mood after our victory.  “That’s enough chatting,” Miriel stops us, with a stern voice. “I don’t think we should stay here overnight. We should get back to town right away.” 

Delonia jumps in, saying, “I don’t want to go back to town! Let’s interrogate SySy right here, now.” She begins walking over to SySy, as though to put her suggestion into action, but Paks puts out a hand to restrain her.

“Wait. Miriel’s right, it’s not safe here. Let’s go back to the tower, at least,” the tall warrior suggests. 

After a brief discussion, the rest of us agree with Miriel and Paks, and we pack camp to head back to the ruined tower. We switch the two exhausted horses for two fresh ones, and begin riding east towards the coast.

We take turns sleeping in the cart and walking. Stone is tireless and alert, pacing alongside, and Goldpetal drives.  Stone and Goldpetal take the majority of the watches, but we all contribute as best as we can. We trudge steadily through the darkness.



We reach the tower, with no incident, at daybreak on Madraday, the 18th of Charder.  Although it’s been two exhausting days and nights, when we reach the tower we are all awake, and Miriel starts a new discussion of our plans.

Miriel begins, “Okay, we need to make a decision. Do we interrogate SySy here and now, or should we take her to Grilliam?”

Delonia looks very nervous. “I don’t like the idea of going back to Southport. I never want to see Grilliam again!” she exclaims.

Paks reassures her, “Nobody will make you.”

“I want to interrogate SySy now,” Delonia says. 

Paks nods her head decisively. “Okay,” she says, “Let’s do it.” 

“No way!” she exclaims in alarm. “It’s far too risky.” 

“I can handle her,” Delonia says confidently.

Goldpetal suggests, “Perhaps we should rest first. We are all tired.” Although the spell casters all tried to meditate in the bumpy cart ride, none have fully recovered their powers.

Stone interjects, looking thoughtfully at the burlap sack, “How long has SySy has been in that sack?” 

Miriel ignores him, and asks, “Why should we interrogate her at all?” 

“I agree,” Milo is quick to say. “We should fetch Grilliam.” 

Goldpetal looks at him quizzically. “Why would he come out here?” he asks. 

Milo looks up at the elf. “Why wouldn’t he?” 

Delonia stands up abruptly. “I can’t take all this arguing,” she says, and begins walking over towards the bound witch.  

Before she can reach the sack, Milo throws a dart at her! Stone leaps up, attempting to catch it out of the air, but he is too slow, and the dart hits Delonia in the back. She turns angrily, but before they can come to further blows, Paks restrains Delonia, and Chuck grabs Milo roughly.

“Hold!” Paks yells, and, with everyone in the group now standing between them, the two antagonists relent. 

As their tempers calm, Miriel heals Delonia, and then stands to address everyone. “Everyone, please stop fighting,” she implores. “Let’s listen to what Delonia has to say.”

Delonia says, “I don’t want to be involved with Grilliam again. I’ve always had a good relationship with SySy, and I want to find a resolution to this that doesn’t involve handing SySy over to him.  I think we can handle SySy – she’s already hurt, she’s manacled, blindfolded, and there are seven of us to her one. Why are you so afraid of her?”

Milo glares at her. “Why don’t we all have our say?” he asks derisively.

Miriel nods at him, and says, “Okay. You first.”

“We have no reason to trust anything she says,” Milo argues. “We can’t compel her to tell the truth. A priest of Hedrada could get a lot of good information out of her. We can’t.” 

Paks speaks next. “There’s a different issue here,” she tells us. “As Delonia says, what are we going to do with SySy? We could kill her now and not interrogate her..." 

“That sounds good to me!” Goldpetal interjects.

Paks continues, “...or interrogate her.” 

“She’s a rat thing,” Goldpetal says, with venom in his voice. “She enslaves people. She deserves to die.” 

Chuck speaks next. He sounds unusually thoughtful. “I agree that we should interrogate her. I also agree with Goldpetal that we should kill her. You know, I think it’s most important that we find out what’s up with her operation, first.” 

Stone speaks. Although some might say that the half-orc is not always the brightest lamp in the street, his words have wisdom which the others hadn’t yet considered. “Delonia doesn’t want to see Grilliam,” he says, “But she helped you capture SySy. She wants to be there for the interrogation, and I think you owe her that much. We should do it now.” After a moment’s pause, he adds, “Then kill her.” 

Miriel looks at him a little fearfully. “Kill who, Delonia, or SySy?” 

Stone thinks about it for a moment. “The second one.”


----------



## Broccli_Head

Amaroq said:
			
		

> 28th of July, 2002​*Issue #7*
> 
> 
> Miriel looks at him a little fearfully. “Kill who, Delonia, or SySy?”
> 
> Stone thinks about it for a moment. “The second one.”​





Heh-heh   

Stone funny guy...​


----------



## saltlick

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> Heh-heh
> 
> Stone funny guy...





Thanks!   

And thanks Amaroq for all this work.... I can't wait to see how it turns out.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #7: The Red Witch - Episode 2 of 5*

Everyone has had a chance to speak their mind, and the group is about evenly split. Clearly democracy cannot provide an answer, and Miriel has been our moral compass. Everyone looks to her expectantly.

The priestess considers the case, her brow furrowed. The tableau seems to stretch at length. Milo begins to fidget impatiently. Finally, Miriel looks up. “Okay,” she says. “For the peace of the party, let’s interrogate her now, but we need to keep her under control.” 

“I can handle her,” Delonia asserts again.

Paks asks her, “Delonia, why don’t you cast _charm person_ on her, first?” The sorceress nods in agreement.

“We’ll keep her tied up,” Chuck says. 

Stone and Paks take SySy out of the sack. Chuck keeps his bow ready, Delonia _charms_ her, and we take her gag off. 

Miriel says, “Delonia, what should we ask? You started this!” 

Delonia says, “I’m just trying to get my obligation over before you return to Southport.” 

“Miriel, you do the interrogation,” Paks says, taking charge. “Stone, keep guard.” Stone goes up the tower’s second floor; it's a nice hot clear day, and he can see for miles. 

Miriel begins. “Tell us about the smuggling operation,” she says. “Who else was at the compound that we didn’t see, who is expected at the compound, what is the purpose of the slaves, the smuggling, and the poisons, and what do you know about Virilius’s plans?” 

SySy talks at length.  She says she likes to trade; she's one of the few rat men who actually likes dealing with outsiders. She tells us that the slaves are for rituals, trade, and labor. She made the deal with Virilius to trade poisons and drugs for slaves, as the slaves were so useful. 

“Why hasn’t anyone come after us?” Delonia asks.

SySy shakes her head. “I was hoping Eltron would, but he’s dead, isn’t he? I suspect my daughter, Seedar – she’s very ambitious – has probably taken over in my absence. She’ll be pleased to take over, and won’t want me to come back.” She turns to Delonia, and confides quietly, “As friend to friend, you know, friends don’t really keep each other tied up.”

“I know,” Delonia says. “Some of my friends are afraid of you. You wouldn’t hurt them, would you? Please just answer their questions, for a few minutes. Tell the truth – my life may depend on it.”

SySy nods in agreement, and Paks asks the next question. “Where do the slaves go? Do you sell them to other ratmen?”

“Yes,” SySy answers. “I just sent a recent shipment of slaves and weapons to Xyler Blackfoot, a clan leader for one of the disease clans. He’s been gathering a lot of weapons because he’s finally in power, and he wants to avenge the death of his brother, slain by Taryn Kratys in combat these many years ago at the battle of Twotrees. He says that he’s going to go collect his weregild from Kratys Freehold. I think they’ll probably attack any day now.”

Delonia glances intently at Paks, and asks, “Do you know when?”

“No. What day is it? I think perhaps they’ll reach the Freehold tonight or tomorrow.” 

“How will they attack?” asks Paks.

“They’ll attack with weapons and diseased slaves. The disease clans love to unleash plagues on their enemies.” The thought of ratmen using human slaves to breed diseases, and then unleashing those diseases on a human settlement is deeply revolting to all of us. Everyone begins to ask SySy questions, one after another.  Stone, hearing the commotion, comes back down the stairs to find out what we have learned.

“How large is this clan?” asks Goldpetal, his voice grim. 

“I don’t know,” she says, looking above Delonia to look up at the elf standing behind the sorceress. “Maybe a hundred or so in his clan.” 

Milo inquires, “Do any of the rat men use the standing stones to worship Gormoth?” 

SySy looks at him as though he is strange. After a moment, she gives a brief shake of her head. “I don’t know anything about those stones. The disease clans worship Chern.”

Chuck asks, “Do you trade with any of the Asuras besides Delonia?” 

“Only Delonia. We were friends. Hey!” Her voice turns sharp and she gives Delonia a cutting look. “Why did you attack me?” 

“We heard of a plot against you,” Paks lies glibly, trying to keep up the charm’s pretense that we are SySy’s friends. “We had to save you.” 

“Oh,” SySy digests this for a moment. “Thanks. Will you take me back now?" 

“Not yet,” Paks tells her. “Your daughter is still there.” 

Miriel turns to the rest of us. “An attack on Kratys Freehold is imminent,” she says. “Should we head over there immediately? How long will it take to get there?” 

Milo asks, of nobody in particular, “Do rat men clans usually travel and attack at night?” 

SySy glances at Delonia. Still charmed, she appears to feel compelled to answer. “Of course. We love to attack at night, ’cause you humans can’t see much in the dark.” 

Paks answers Miriel’s question. “We can probably all get there by sunset. If I took one of the horses, I could get there more quickly.” 

Milo, ever curious, asks another question. “SySy, how long have you been trading?” 

“Oh, for years,” SySy says.

“How many?” he persists. The rest of us have fallen silent, waiting to see if the halfling’s line of questioning turns up anything new.

SySy thinks about it for a moment. “More than ten years, now, at least.” 

“What are the names of the people you trade with?” 

“I don’t remember,” SySy says. “I’d have to get my ledger.” 

“SySy,” Goldpetal asks, “Were you an independent, or one of a network of traders?” 

“We red witches have a loose confederation of trading posts,” she tells the elf, “But they’re competitive; particularly myself and my daughter.” 

Stone diverts us from further questioning. “Someone should run to town to get reinforcements for the hold,” he says.

“I can go right away,” Paks says earnestly.

Milo looks her up and down, with a sneer. “Will they believe her?” he asks. “She’s a mercenary.” 

“Why not?” Miriel asks rhetorically. “She has corroborating details.” 

Paks looks at the priestess. “Can we get help from Southport to the freehold?” 

Miriel nods. “Let’s send Nik to town to fetch help,” she suggests.  This suggestion meets universal acclaim, and it seems we have our plan.

“Okay,” Paks says, “Chuck, Goldpetal, Miriel, would you please step outside with me for a moment?” 

The four of them step outside of the tower, and Paks asks, in a lowered voice, “Can I use the slush fund to hire Delonia to help at the freehold?” 

Everyone agrees, and they rejoin the group. Paks approaches Delonia with her idea. “Delonia,” she says, “I think you’ve completed your obligation to us. But you’ve been amazingly useful, and this freehold is in danger. Can we hire you to help defend the freehold?”

Delonia nods with a thoughtful look on her face. “You're clearly lucky,” she says, “So I might be willing, but I’m not going back to Southport with you afterward.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Paks says with a smile. “I can offer you one platinum piece, plus a share of any treasure, to assist us at the freehold, for however long this attack may last.”

Delonia accepts readily, and Paks has begun to saddle Star, Jim’s warhorse.
Miriel explains the situation to Nik, asking him to go to town to fetch help, and he agrees. The priestess writes a note to Fox, and gives Nik a peacock feather from her spear as a token to identify him as coming from us. She also takes her dagger back, as nobody expects Nik to need weapons on the way to town. Chuck gives him some money and food. 

Nik is about to leave when Milo stops him. “Wait,” Milo says, and turns to the rest of the group to ask, “Before he goes, what should we do with SySy?” 

“I think we should kill her,” Goldpetal says. His purple eyes flash with loathing for the ratman witch.

“I don’t think Grilliam would agree,” says Milo.

“Stone?” asks Chuck. Unnoticed by any of her guards, the witch has begun testing her bonds. She finds Chuck’s iron manacles too strong to break, and too tight to wriggle out of.

“I dunno,” Stone says, “But she deserves death.” 

Milo unveils his plan. “Why don't we send SySy back to town, as well?” 

Miriel shakes her head. “No,” she says, her tone somewhere between incredulous and indignant. “Nik shouldn’t have to deal with that.” 

“One of us can go, too,” Milo says, too quickly.

“Are you volunteering?” Miriel asks dangerously. 

“Yes.” 

Miriel looks away dismissively, without answering. When she speaks, she addresses the rest of the group. “I think we should take SySy with us to the freehold, and let Nik go by himself. Maybe Delonia can even get SySy to help us.” 

“I don’t feel comfortable traveling with the witch,” Milo says, although he has just offered to do so.

“Let’s just kill her,” Goldpetal says.

Milo looks perturbed, but Miriel tells him, “Milo, it’ll be okay.” 

Delonia says, “All this talk of killing SySy has certainly counteracted my Charm spell.” She replaces the gag in SySy’s mouth as we talk. 

Paks says, “I think we’ve learned all that we can. I’m ready to leave – I trust you all to decide what to do with the witch.” She swings up into the saddle for the long ride to Kratys Freehold. Miriel offers a quiet blessing, asking Madriel to keep an eye on the young warrior. As soon as she is finished, Paks rides away at a gallop.



Stone, Delonia, and Goldpetal begin packing our little campsite – the second camp we’ve made without sleeping in. Meanwhile, Miriel takes Milo outside for a stern talking to. 

“Look,” she says sternly. “You say you’re here to serve me? No matter what is happening, I don’t want to see you pull a blade on one of my friends ever again.”

“I’m sorry, mistress,” he says, careful not to make any promises.

“We need harmony in the party,” she continues, “I think the gods have brought us together for some purpose, but your incessant arguing threatens to break that up. You need to learn to pick your battles; if you have a problem with somebody in the group, bring it to me.”

“I’m worried about Goldpetal or Chuck killing SySy,” he argues, his tone as much as his stature reminding her of a child complaining about a sibling to their mother.

She rolls her eyes. “Listen, I promise that I’ll do my best to keep that from happening, but we must stop arguing and leave, immediately.”

Milo can only agree, “Yes, mistress.”

While they are outside, and the others are packing, Chuck checks to see if anyone else has been in the tower. He can’t tell for sure; although there are no signs that anyone has been, we have disturbed too much of the upper levels to be certain. 

When Miriel and Milo rejoin the party, and all of our gear is in the cart, Miriel takes Goldpetal and Chuck aside. She explains her promise to Milo. “I promised him that I’d do my best to keep either of you from killing her out of hand. I want you to give me your promise, as well.”

“Fine,” Chuck says. “I won’t kill SySy.”

Goldpetal looks her in the eye. “I can only agree to wait as long as I can stand to,” he says. 

When they return, they find that Stone and Delonia have loaded SySy into the cart, and are ready to leave. Nik heads north along the coast road, with Miriel’s message for Fox and our request for assistance. The rest of us, bearing SySy in the cart, follow behind Paks towards Kratys Freehold.


----------



## Broccli_Head

I'm looking forward to your interpretation of Kraty's Freehold!


----------



## Amaroq

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> I'm looking forward to your interpretation of Kraty's Freehold!




Man, it's like you know what's coming!


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #7: The Red Witch. Episode 3 of 5*

Paks rides at a hard gallop. Star is a magnificent beast, and they ride at a legendary pace. The warhorse has a great heart, and excellent stamina, and seems to understand that this is a race. There is no road, and she lets him pick his own path west through the rolling fields, a great sea of grass. Far to the left, the trees of the Mourning Marsh make a dark line on the horizon. Well off to their right there is a ridge of hills, and the nearest trees that direction 

By mid-morning, the horse is lathered with sweat, and Paks gives him a quick breather. There is no road, and she is worried that he might catch an ankle in a gopher hole or other unevenness, but there seems nothing to do but hope. He is still going strong, so far, and after a few minutes, she mounts up, and they continue their breakneck ride.

As Paks rides, she offers prayers to all of the good gods. “Corean,” she prays under her breath, “Let me arrive in time! Tanil, goddess of the hunt, grant this horse strength! Madriel, shine your light on me!” Field mice dodge out from under his thundering hooves, and a hawk circles far above, but she sees no other signs of life, neither human nor ratman.

Shortly after noon, they come upon a small stream, and she has Star halt there for another breather. She lets him drink, but leads him away before he has drank his full, lest he cramp. Her body is sore from the incessant pounding, and blisters are beginning to form where her chain mail is ill-suited to such a ride. “You’re going to last longer than I am,” she jokes to the horse, as she mounts up again. He whickers, as though amused.

The ride continues, stretching endless ages, as formless plain passes under the gait of the great horse. As afternoon arrives, she can see the hill which contains the standing stones. She considers, for a brief moment, heading up the slope to see what she can see from the top of that tall hill, but she remembers that it took nearly a half hour to climb, and decides she cannot spare the time. She does turn aside, very briefly, to find water for the tiring horse, and give him one final breather before the home stretch.

She knows that from the top of the hill, you can see Kratys Freehold, and she keeps a sharp lookout for ratmen, unlimbering her shield in case she is accosted. She buries her head close to Star’s neck, trying to make as small a target as she can, and offers a final wordless prayer as she gallops ever westward.



In the late afternoon, Paks turns onto a dirt path leading to the freehold, without ever seeing a ratman. She finds most of the farmers out at work in the surrounding fields and orchards. They stop and stare as she gallops past; some smile and wave. It’s a sunny day, and the sun is still well above the horizon. The pastoral scene offers a strong contrast to the urgency which drives her and the great horse onwards; they do not slow, even in sight of their goal. 

The compound is at the top of a low hill, and consists of a wooden wall, about five feet tall, in an oblong shape perhaps two hundred feet by a hundred twenty feet.  Five wooden buildings lie around the perimeter, with the wall covering the gaps between them. It appears that only a few of the freeholders are within the walled confines of the compound.

The path Paks has been riding on leads directly up to the main gate, which stands wide open in the east wall of the complex.  To the left of the main gate, nearest her, in the southeast corner of the complex, the cornerstone of the freehold is a large, two-story hall, close to twenty feet tall.  It extends for most of the south edge of the complex.  The ground floor is sheer and windowless, but there are windows on the second story. In the southwest corner of the complex, adjacent to the hall, and with a door to it from the roof of the hall, is a narrow tower, perhaps three and a half stories tall. At the top story of the tower is a bell, while on the roof there is a protective wooden crenellation, and the lone guard stands watch from that pulpit. 

Along the west wall, on the far side of the complex, there is a second, smaller back gate near the tower, and a low, long building, perhaps a barn or a stable.  The complex is narrowest at the northern edge, which is another barn or stable building.  Between it and the next building, in the northeast corner of the complex, there is a well.  Along the near wall, on the eastern side of the main gate, there is a single-story building with the distinctive chimney structure of a forge. 

Paks rides straight to the open main gate. “Ahoy, the Hold!” she yells to the guard, reigning Star to a halt a few feet outside the gate.  Star is breathing hard beneath her, his flanks heaving as he gasps for air.

“Who goes there?” demands the watchman, from his post atop the narrow tower. Inside the compound, a few children come out to stare and point at the warrior atop her great horse.

“It is Paksenarrion, a warrior,” she yells. “Where is your master?  I have an important message for him, and can brook no delay!”

“Taryn Kratys,” he yells back, “Is my master, but he is out in the fields, I know not where! His wife, Myrs, is here. She is the lady of the hold.”

“I must see her,” Paks says.

“Come inside,” says the guard, and she rides into the compound.  A boy of about thirteen offers to take her horse to the stable; the guard directs her into the largest of the buildings.

Paks enters a large feast hall, and there she finds the woman who must be Myrs Kratys. She is middle-aged, but carries herself with the regal air of a noble, for her husband and she are liege and lady to the freeholders. Her hair, once dark, has been streaked with grey, and her face shows the wrinkles of laugh lines overlaying a once-beautiful countenance.

“Milady,” Paks says without introduction. She is still out of breath from the ride. “You must sound the alarm at once! Ratmen approach!”

“What is this?” Myrs demands, “And who are you?”

Paks introduces herself, and briefly tells the story. “I am Paksenarrion, milady, though most call me Paks. I and my companions were commissioned by Grilliam, the Priest of Hedrada in Southport, to disrupt a ring of slave-traders who were buying slaves and trading them to the rat-men of the swamp for drugs and poisons. Our investigation took us into the swamp, where we captured a red witch. 

“We interrogated her, under a spell to compel the truth from her, and she warned us that one of the disease clans is preparing to attack Kratys Freehold either tonight or tomorrow night. You must sound the alarm, and bring your people inside!”

“We have had little trouble with the ratmen this year,” says Myrs. “I believe you, but I’m not sure I believe her. Are you sure that your spell was effective? Did she say why they would attack us now?”

“I am no wizard, milady, to assess a spell,” Paks says, “But she sounded sincere and offered several corroborating proofs. She said that Xyler Blackfoot had become clan leader of this particular clan, and that his brother who was slain by your husband at the battle of Twotrees. Now this Xyler seeks weregild, and will attack the Freehold to wreak his vengeance.”

Myrs nods her head. “Taryn did fight at the battle of Twotrees, and killed a great ratman chief there. Very well.” She rises, and cups her hands to her mouth. “Thomas!!” she yells. A young lad, redheaded and freckled, enters. 

“Fetch Brand to me,” Myrs commands the youth. As he scampers off, she steps outside, where she yells up to the guard, “Red! Sound the alarm! Bring everyone inside the gates, and shut them!”

Myrs returns to the hall as the redheaded lad returns leading a large young man. “Paks, thank you for your warning,” Myrs says. “This is Brand, my eldest son.” He is a tall lad, in his early twenties, with the musculature of a smith or a warrior. “Brand, Paks brings us warning that a ratman clan is coming to attack us. Help Red sound the alarm.”

“My companions ride behind me,” Paks tells Myrs. “There are six: four humans, an elf, and a halfling. They fight stoutly. Make sure they are let in!”

“Brand, relay this to the watch,” Myrs instructs. “Shut the back gate, and to be ready to shut the main gates at the first sign of the ratmen, but do let Paks’ companions in if they should arrive before the ratmen.”

Her message delivered, Paks looks completely fatigued, on the verge of collapse. “Milady,” she says, “May I beg leave of a place to sleep?”

“Certainly,” Myrs says. “Thomas, set up a cot for her.”

While the boy prepares a resting place, Paks goes to the stable to see to her horse, Star. The stable is the northernmost building, while the other low building is a barn housing cattle. Star is well-fed and taken care of, with oats and water already provided. 

The alarm bell begins to sound, and the farmers hurry to return to the safe confines of the compound. Paks gives Star a thorough rubbing down before she allows fatigue to overcome her, and she falls to sleep in a hastily prepared cot.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #7: The Red Witch - Episode 4 of 5*

The rest of us toil towards the freehold with the cart. It is slow going, even switching off horses from time to time, and making the entire party walk. With little to no rest the previous two nights, all of us are exhausted by afternoon. Miriel is reduced to plodding, focusing all of her effort on putting one foot in front of the other, and only Stone and Goldpetal have enough energy to scout ahead for ratmen. They do not see any.

The six of us draw near the freehold just before dark. We can hear the alarm bell tolling well before we come into view of the walls. As we approach, we see the last few farmers heading for the gates. The ratmen have not yet arrived; the gate is half closed, but the hold stays open. A number of men stand guard along the walls, armed with bows and arrows. A large man atop the watch tower shouts to us to hurry, and we make a run for the gates.

Just as we get through the gates, they are closed and locked behind us. We are in the courtyard of a walled complex. Paks steps out of one of the buildings, and shouts a warm greeting, clearly glad to see us. Stone, the half-orc, tries to look inconspicuous, but there is little need – everyone is extremely busy, and they hardly take time to notice us. There are people scurrying everywhere. Women carry buckets of water, men are sharpening swords, and children are collecting stones to use in slings. A middle-aged woman, standing atop the tallest hall, yells directions.  

A cry goes up from some of the archers, and we turn around to look. The tall members of the party stare over the top of the low wall, while Milo and Goldpetal scurry up a nearby ladder to see what is happening outside from the rooftop.

In the distance, to the south, we can see a man, being chased by a group of rat men. The rat men have bows, and they are shooting at him. They stop pursuing him when they approach the edge of the orchards that surrounds the freehold, staying a safe distance from the walls, but they continue to shoot him. Even as we watch, we see three arrows hit him, but he runs up the hill towards the freehold. 

A few of the archers offer return fire, but the arrows fall short of the ratmen, and they can only cheer on the runner. “C’mon, Taryn, you can make it!”

He reaches the edge of the wall, and his men drop a rope to him.  He fastens it around his chest, and they pull him up. Stone and Chuck climb up to help haul on the rope, and shortly they have dragged him to the top of the hall. Paks and Miriel climb up to the roof as well.

As soon as he is atop the building, the woman who has been leading the townsfolk grabs him. He looks terrible, and when she opens his cloak, we can see that he is covered with numerous gashes and wounds.

Miriel asks one of the archers, “When did you last see him?” 

“In the fields today, I reckon.” He has the soft-spoken drawl of a farmer, though he clearly wields the bow competently enough.

“Ratmen,” Taryn tries to warn us. He is barely able to gasp words out, and it is hard to hear him. “Ambushed us. John and Eldred ... dead. Only I … escaped.” He closes his eyes, as though to rest, and then remembers something else. “They’re … the disease tribe,” he tells Myrs, who is trying to bandage his wounds as best she can.

Miriel asks, “Is there a healer in the hold?” 

The archer looks at the symbol of Madriel, which Miriel wears visibly at her neck, and says, “I’d guess that’s you, milady.” 

Miriel steps over beside Myrs. “I’m a healer,” she says. “May I ask Madriel to heal your wounds?”

Taryn, on the verge of unconsciousness, does not appear to hear her, but his wife answers fervently. “Oh, thank the gods. Please do!”

Miriel is worried about disease, and she specifically requests in her invocation that Madriel heal any disease as she heals Taryn’s wounds. She asks Madriel to heal him, but his wounds are massive, and it takes many repeated invocations, until Miriel is completely exhausted, before he is sitting up and looks close to well.

As Taryn is healed, he becomes more aware of the surroundings, and Myrs introduces him to Paks. She, in turn, introduces Miriel and the rest of the fellowship. Myrs blanches a little when she recognizes that Stone is half orcish, but she graciously thanks us all for the warning.

Paks tells them both, “We’re here to help fight off the ratmen.”

Taryn, his voice much stronger, says, “I’m glad you’re here to help out.” 

Miriel and Taryn are both thoroughly exhausted, and need time to sleep and recover. Myrs says she can also cast some spells, and that she will go memorize some spells better suited to a battle. She leaves Paks, as she is the one with the most campaign experience, in charge, with her daughter, Llewyn, as Paks’ lieutenant. Myrs leads Taryn and Miriel to the sleeping quarters in the main hall, and puts them to bed, and then turns in herself, to sleep and study. Delonia and Goldpetal also study spells and try to catch up on their sleep.

Milo slips out into the orchard, telling Paks that he will try to sneak up on and kill the archers.  



Paks begins planning for a siege. The gates are the weakest point in our walls, vulnerable to a battering ram, so she decides to shore them up. She directs some of the freeholders to push wagons outside, and tip them over on their sides. This provides cover from ratman archers, so that others may dig ditches in the approaches to the gates. Stone goes with them, to help. Although he is met with disdain initially, the freeholders are very appreciative when they find out first-hand how much strength is packed into his compact frame.

When they are set and at work, Paks directs some other freeholders to begin blocking the second-story windows of the hall, as best they can, and sets the remainder to creating archery blinds on top of the buildings. Even the children work: she has them filling every bucket of water, in case we need to fight fire. One of the guards, Garth, is standing lookout atop the tower, with a telescope. 

When they have a moment, she speaks with Llewyn and Brand. “I’m a ranger,” Llewyn tells her. “And I have a warhorse, though I’m better with a bow.”

“Following in your father’s footsteps?” Paks asks with a smile. “He is said to be quite a warrior.”

“I’m able to get a touch on him, occasionally,” Llewyn says, but then laughs and adds, “If I’m willing to be knocked down in the dust a dozen times or so. Listen, I was thinking, we have some slight military stores, from ages ago. I think there are five suits of chain mail, which we might use.”

Brand shakes his head. “They’re all in very poor repair,” he says.

“You’ve a forge,” Paks says levelly. “Can you repair them?”

“Certainly,” he says, “but it will take me many hours. Perhaps eight hours or so.”

“You’d best start, then,” she tells him.

Chuck sets grimly to work fletching arrows, and sharpening all of our weapons. His grief, for both Jim and Steve, has turned to a fey rage, and he is looking forward to avenging their deaths.



An hour after Milo left, he comes back. He ducks past Stone’s crew, working at the back gate, and re-enters the complex. His clothes are grungy, and he looks exhausted. “Wench!” he cries, “Bring me a drink!”

One of the children looks at him, and says scathingly, “Fetch your own drink.”

When he returns from the well, Milo finds Paks to give her his report. “I went south,” he says, “To where the archers were. They must have seen me; right when I got into the orchard, I immediately came under fire.” He pulls several arrows from under his cloak, and gives them to Paks. “These were shot into some trees near me, and I thought you could use them.

“Anyways, I shook them off, and was then able to sneak around a little bit. I found a group of five archers. They’d clearly been there for a while; they’d built some sort of blind to fire out of the orchard with. It took a long time for me to get close, and when I did, I couldn’t understand what they were saying.

“Well, I killed three of them, and the other two ran. I followed them for a while through the trees, but they were running south, and I didn’t want to follow them out of the trees. I started circling around the freehold, and about a third of the way around, I heard another set of five archers. I figure they have a blind, too.”

“Did you see them?” asks Chuck, who has been listening intently.

“No.”

Paks asks him, “Could we go sneak up on them?”

“I might take more guards and harry them,” Milo says, “But I should warn you, even though I’m exceptionally quiet, the rat men still noticed my approach, so I doubt anyone else will be able to sneak up on them.” He pauses, as though expecting a response, but when Paks remains silent, he says, “There are no archers left to the south of the hold right now, and after I rest, I’ll go out again to try to kill some others. Can the blacksmith spare the time to make me some darts?”

“I think so,” Paks says. “I’ll tell him.”

In the middle of the evening, some of the archers begin shooting at our workers outside the gates.  They have set up blinds at the edge of the woods, in several locations.  The trenches are pretty much finished, so Paks calls everyone back inside, and we shut the gates for the final time.  There is now a no-man’s land, the open expanse of hill slope, about a hundred  feet wide, between our walls and the edge of the woods. Neither side can make a good shot, since each side has good cover, but that hill is a clear field of fire, devoid of even the slightest protection.



Work continues inside the complex, with occasional arrows harassing anyone who forgets to stay under cover, even for a moment. Likewise, our archers occasionally loose arrows into the woods, but Paks admonishes them that arrows are in scarce supply, and they should make sure they have a good shot.

After about an hour of this, we can hear louder noises in the woods. Stone, who sees well in the dark, says that he can see, through the woods, a large rat man force coming up from the south. He can’t see what they're doing, but he can see a large camp. He tells Paks that he gets the impression of as many as a hundred rat men. 

A short while later, a herald from the rat men appears at the gates. He carries two banners: one is a white flag of truce, while the other is the banner of a disease clan, worshippers of Chern. The herald looks different from any rat man we have seen before. He appears gray and twisted, as warped as the trees of the swamp. He is wearing a dirty, torn cloak. 

He stops on the road, halfway between the woods and our main gate. “Heathen persons!” he calls, in the common tongue. “You owe us your lives, for the death of the brother of the rat man! Because Chern is merciful, because Chern is good, we will be merciful, and you can serve us if you lay down your weapons and come out! Otherwise, we will gnaw your bones!” 

Paks stands up from behind cover, on the roof of the main hall. “We won’t be laying down our weapons,” she calls out to him.

“You may have an hour to consider it,” yells the herald.

“Okay,” Paks shouts. “We’ll let you know in an hour.” 

The herald goes away, disappearing into the cover of the orchard. 

Milo prepares to go out into the woods to scout and hunt rat men. He asks for a healing potion, which Paks gives him, as well as the 20 darts the blacksmith made for him while he rested. He then heads out, after offering a prayer to Madriel. 

When Myrs awakens, Paks asks her if she has any ideas about fashioning some sort of siege weapon. It turns out that Myrs is an engineer, and has built siege weapons before. She thinks that she can rig a catapult, given ten to  twelve hours, and perhaps twenty men. 

Most of our first works have completed, so Paks tells Myrs to draft whoever she needs, and work begins on a catapult, in the center of the compound.  The remainder of the workforce and Paks sets to reinforcing the walls of the buildings as best as they can. The herald never does return to ask our answer.



_“Midnight!” grumbles Telryn under his breath. “I can’t believe he’s making me meet him at midnight.”

He hurries nervously through the empty streets of Lave, the capital of Vesh. It is a much larger city than he is used to, and despite his caution, he notices leering dirty faces peering out of the shadows at him, and his sense of unease heightens. At home, he avoids the darker parts of town, but here is not even sure where they are. He becomes uncomfortably aware that he hasn’t seen a watchman for several minutes.

Half-certain he is being followed, he is not sure whether to be relieved or terrified when he reaches the dark tower. Three stories high, in the dark it appears to be made of black stone, though he knows from his earlier visit that they are in fact the darkest of grays. He hastens his steps to reach the base of it, where he is confounded by the same thing which stopped his first visit. 

There is no door.

He glances over his shoulder, but the footsteps echoing behind him have stopped. If a watcher lurks, it appears they are as frightened of Delmeron’s reputation as he is. He sends his familiar, a white snowy owl, to make a quick circuit around the base of the circular tower, but there is no entry anywhere, not even a window up on the third floor. 

He looks up at the bell, set at the end of an iron bar almost twelve feet above the cobblestones of the street. There is no cord, and the raven familiar which, on his last visit, told him to return at midnight, is nowhere in sight. He smiles grimly. “That’s okay,” he mutters to himself. “That’s what I memorized_ mage hand _for.”

With another quick look over his shoulder, he begins casting the cantrip. Invisible arcane energy extends from his fingers, and gives a quick tug on the bell. 

It tolls ominously, echoing off the stone in the tower. 

There is no response. He can do nothing but wait, impatiently, watching away from the faceless stone of the tower. The owl lands on his shoulder.

Without warning, Telryn flickers briefly to _*nowhere*_. For a brief moment, he is lost in a dark void. Before he can panic, the world flickers again, and he finds himself in a dark chamber. His familiar is still perched on his shoulder. There are mystical symbols painted on the floor, and the countertops, covered with potions and spellbooks, remind him his master’s laboratory at home. 

That might have been a comforting thought, but then his eye lands upon Delmeron. Penetrating eyes catch his gaze, and he shudders. The man seems to be sitting on shadows. Beside his chair is a large crystal ball, mounted on a bone pedestal which reminds the young mage of a hand.

“You rang?” he asks, and his voice tolls as ominously as the bell.

“My… master, Loowys Strangeblood, has sent me to you,” he starts, fighting down the fear which threatens to return his voice to the childhood stammer, so painstakingly eradicated through hours of practice, for the arcane arts are unforgiving of even the slightest mistake. “He said you might sell us some glitter ink?”

The mage rises with a hint of a smile on his face. “I might have,” he says, pulling his black robe tighter about himself. He is thin and angular, with curly white hair, and Telryn cannot help but think that a smile does not belong on that face. “But unfortunately, my supplier has recently experienced… difficulties.”

Telryn starts to say, “Thank-you-then-I’ll-just-be-going.” 

Before he can rattle off a complete sentence, however, the mage stops him with an uplifted hand. “However, I am quite sure I know where you can get some.”

“Okay…” Telryn starts hesitantly, mentally reviewing to find the catch.

“In fact, I can teleport you there, if you are willing to wait an hour or two...”

The young mage weighs caution against getting to see magic more powerful than any his master has performed in front of him. Curiosity wins out. “Very well, I accept,” he says, his voice firmer than it had been anywhere else in the conversation.

“Good,” says Delmeron, his face breaking into a predatory smile. “Here, you might as well start making yourself useful. Draw a chalk pentagram over there…”_


----------



## Broccli_Head

Aha! The Battle begins. Love the idea of Milo going out on his own and wittling down Slithereen. Catapults!...cool. 

who's the mage? I guess we'll find out soon enough.


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## Amaroq

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> Aha! The Battle begins. Love the idea of Milo going out on his own and wittling down Slithereen. Catapults!...cool.




Heh. Had a lot of fun with that one. This played out very neat, as our DM found a former player who took "command" of the attacking ratmen. Joshwitz kicks back and adjudicates... 



			
				Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> Who's the mage? I guess we'll find out soon enough.



Telryn is posting here as Fulcan. Or did you mean Delmeron? 

Delmeron, Fox, Grilliam, and several of the other NPC's are, and I thought this was really neat, the retired PC's from a previous campaign which the DM was in. (I think he may have played Fox, but I'm not actually sure whether he was player or DM). Even though that campaign must predate the Scarred Lands setting, I must say that adds a neat ambience to the world as a player.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #7: The Red Witch - Episode 5 of 5*

Evening passes into night. We can hear the rat men felling trees in the wood, but can’t see what they are doing. Hours have passed, and when Goldpetal completes his meditations, he notices that Milo hasn’t returned. He tells Paks, but she cannot spare anybody to search for the halfling. Unheard, under her breath, she offers a prayer for his safety. 

Goldpetal, wandering the grounds of the hold, discovers that there are two hawks, presumably used for hunting, roosting near the stable. He casts _animal friendship_ on both of them, a druidic spell which wins their instant, permanent loyalty. Walking with a hawk on each shoulder, he goes to find Paks. “My eyes are better suited to the dark than any human’s,” he says, ignoring her astounded look at the two hawks, “I will stand watch atop the tower.” She is taken aback too much to do more than acquiesce, and the elf climbs up to join the guards atop the tower.

At midnight, Miriel awakens, similarly refreshed. She examines Taryn, who is in much better shape, but could still use further healing. She heals him until his wounds are completely recovered. Then she looks over Paks and Delonia, who are both still wounded from our battle at SySy’s trading outpost. She heals them both, until they are fully recovered from their wounds.

She and Paks discuss the things which they found at SySy’s lair.  Miriel, looking at the potions we found, realizes that they are antitoxins. Paks recognizes the stones we found, explaining that she has seen them in her adventures as a mercenary. They are thunderstones, which will explode and cause deafness when thrown. 

After this short conversation, an update on the progress of our siegeworks, and a brief meal, Miriel says that the healing has exhausted her, again. She goes back to rest further. 

An hour later, Milo comes back. He’s in bad shape, his armor punctured with numerous arrows. He tells Paks that he tried to get around one of the rat men encampments, but they noticed him and cut him off. He was wounded, and had to drink the healing potion. For the past five hours, he says, he’s been eluding ratman patrols, trying to get back to us.

Paks asks how badly he is injured, and he answers that he is wounded, but not mortally, and needs sleep more than anything. Paks promises to send Miriel to him when Miriel awakens. 



Just before three o’clock in the morning, at the darkest time of the night, Miriel wakes. She finds Paks, who is still standing guard, though her bloodshot eyes suggest that she is exhausted. The warrior directs Miriel to heal Milo. She searches for Milo to heal, but she can’t find him. He’s not in the hall, on either floor, where the cots are laid out.

Those of us outside, Paks, Stone, Chuck, and Goldpetal atop the guard tower, hear a terrible disturbance in the barn. We can hear the sheep bleating and cows lowing. They sound very upset. 

Stone and Chuck, working on the catapult, are closest to the barn. They both run over to the barn. Chuck draws his bow, while Stone throws open the doors to the barn. Within, they see creatures that look somewhat ghoul-like. They’re as tall as a man, emaciated, and they smell foul. They’re eating the animals alive. Blood and gore are everywhere, as the animals, trapped in their stalls, are unable to escape. 

Stone yells, “Alfred!” and charges into the barn.

Chuck looks up to the tower, and shouts “Battle stations!” to the tower guards, then releases his strung arrow into the barn. His first shot hits a sheep instead of his intended target. Stone’s first blows are more effective, as he batters one of the ghoul creatures brutally. The ghouls swarm towards Stone and Chuck, though a few are still distracted by the sheep. Three attack Stone. The first misses, but the second claws him. The third misses, tripping over one of the sheep. Two of the ghouls reach Chuck at the doorway, and both bite him. He calls out, “Miriel! Help me!”

Myrs runs over near the doorway, where she can see the two sunken-eyed ghouls attacking Chuck. “Corean save us,” she gasps, “They’re dead-eaters!” She turns and calls to the tower, “Sound the alarm!” Goldpetal begins to ring the bell.  

Miriel hears the alarm bell sounding, and just as she runs out into the courtyard, hears the call for her name. Others also ready themselves for battle, grabbing swords and shields, and running to the source of the disturbance.

Myrs casts a spell, and a great _web_ bursts in the center of the barn. Stone manages not to get entangled in the strands, but five of the dead-eaters and numerous sheep are caught in grey stickiness. Three of the dead-eaters also escape the web, while the furthest two were out of the spell’s range. 

In the heat of the battle, a fire breaks out in the northern corner of the barn. The straw had been dampened down earlier, but somehow the fire begins to spread.

Stone, in the barn, begins trying to fight his way out of the burning building. Chuck tries to hold the doorway open for him, but they are beset by five dead-eaters. Chuck drops his bow, drawing both swords, but in the smoke and confusion, he can’t seem to hit. Stone smashes in the head of one his opponents, and it collapses into the webbing. One of Chuck’s opponents, near the door, tries to run away from the fire, but runs into the web. Finding itself close enough to swing at Stone, it attacks him, but misses and falls prone, thoroughly trapped in the web. 

At the doorway, two remain on Chuck. As he tries to parry the attacks of the first, the other claws and bites him, and the young Vigil collapses, bleeding on the ground. It crouches over his body, reaching hungrily for his exposed jugular vein, but just then Taryn arrives. His scything blade beheads the dead-eater, saving Chuck, but he takes a bite on his left arm from the other one. He turns, interposing his swords between the remaining dead-eaters and Chuck’s body.

Outside, Myrs shouts “Fire! Bring water!” Some of the freeholders begin drawing 
water from the well, while others begin to carry some of the buckets we’d prepared for firefighting earlier.

“Trap them inside,” Paks commands, and Llewyn leads a group of six spear-carrying freeholders to the barn. Two stand with her and Taryn at the doorway, using their spears to keep the dead-eaters trapped inside, while the other four cover the windows. Two more of the freeholders drag Chuck back from the door, and Miriel runs over to heal him.  

Atop the tower, Goldpetal and his companion atop the guard tower have been joined by three archers, whose battle post is atop the tower. “This is a distraction,” he warns. “Watch the perimeter.” The five of them scan diligently around the no-man’s land, looking for a gathering of troops, but there are none evident.

Inside the barn, Stone works his way towards the door. Its very slow going, as he has to stay clear of the web, a task growing ever more difficult in the thick smoke, and dodge around dead-eaters and cattle. Most of the dead-eaters are entangled, but the monk learns too late that one is not. It leaps out of the smoke, hitting him with both claws and teeth. Stone staggers; he’s still standing, but he is badly wounded.  

The dead-eaters at the door try to push free, but there are too many defenders at the door for them to overpower. One claws Llewyn, but they are held at the door. Paks arrives at the door, replacing one of the spearmen, but she can’t hit in the tight confines of the doorway. Llewyn pulls out a lasso and flings it at the unentangled dead-eater attacking Stone. She snares it, but can’t pull it down. Taryn hits one of the unwounded dead-eaters, hard, knocking it back from the doorway. It falls into the webs and becomes trapped.

“Madriel,” Miriel says, invoking her goddess over Chuck’s prone body, “Heal this man.” The power of the goddess heals Chuck beneath her hands. He stops bleeding and wakes up. “Wait here,” she says, “You’re still badly wounded.” He ignores her advice and staggers to his feet. He tries to shoot his bow, but he is still too weak to make a full pull, and his shot misses.

The web starts burning in earnest. Some of the dead eaters are now on fire, and we’re in danger of losing the entire barn – and with it, part of our perimeter wall. The first two members of the bucket brigade reach one of the windows, and start pouring water in on the fire. When the first buckets are thrown on the fire, it flares up dramatically. 

Stone sees that there is grease on the floor and the straw, so the fire begins to spread quickly. The web, too is very flammable, and those trapped within are going to be swiftly overtaken. He is too busy to shout a warning. Badly wounded, he staggers into one of the webs, and his legs are trapped. The lassoed dead-eater slashes at him, but misses. Stone punches it, caving in its forehead, and killing it. 

At the doorway, Paks and Llewyn battle the two dead-eaters. Paks’ opponent is injured, but she can’t finish it off. Both of the dead-eaters attack Llewyn, but only one succeeds, clawing her. She hits it with both swords, killing it. Taryn rushes into the burning building, and grabs Stone. Pulling mightily, he hauls him free of the webbing, bringing him near the door.

Miriel shoulders her way through to the door, and heals Stone. At the doorway, one of the freeholders stabs the last free dead-eater, killing it.  Stone is still too weak to escape the barn on his own power, but Paks grabs Stone and helps Taryn pull him out of the barn and the web.

Goldpetal, from his post atop the tower, tells the archers, “I still see no signs of attack. Three of you go down to help fight the fire; whoever is the best archer, stay with me.” Meanwhile, Brand staggers out of the smithy, his muscles straining to carry a huge barrel of water, and starts toward the barn. Chuck runs to help Brand with the barrel, as do some of the freeholders. 

In the northern half of the building, the flames are fierce, having ignited the web and straw, the grease amounting to kindling. Two freeholders hold each of the windows with spears, but the dead-eaters in the north are being burned alive. One of them tries to leap through the  window to escape. It impales itself on a spear and dies. 

Paks draws her bow, to cover the doorway. There are no dead-eaters near the doorway, and it appears to be secure. Taryn starts directing the firefighting effort, yelling, “Its grease burning! Water hasn’t helped much!”

Myrs tells some of her people, “Quick, run to the gate and grab shovels!”

Llewyn runs to the stable, near the well, yelling, “I’m going to check on the horses, and make sure that the dead-eaters aren’t attacking the stable as well!”

Inside, one of the dead-eaters dies in the fire. Paks shoots another, killing it. There are only two remaining, and both are trapped, unable to break free. Taryn and the two spearmen next to her put aside their melee weapons, also drawing bows.

“Goldpetal, is anything else coming?” shouts Paks. Behind her, Miriel heals Stone again, and now he’s looking much better. He gets to his feet.

Goldpetal sees some movement in the orchards, but the ratmen are still leery of stepping into the open no-man’s-land between the walls of the freehold and the trees of the orchard. “Nothing,” he responds.

The freeholders have a bunch of shovels, and begin throwing dirt through the southern windows and the central door. Brand and the others continue to bring the water over, nearly reaching the northern window with the water barrel. The two spearmen holding that window step out of the way.

Taryn shoots another dead-eater, killing it, while the freeholders shoot the last one. Myrs shouts, “You four! Quit standing around and get a bucket chain going.” Stone rushes to join the bucket brigade.

Brand and Chuck dump the barrel of water through the northern window where the fire is strongest. With the grease in that area mostly burned away, the deluge of water turns out to be effective, dousing the worst of the flames. Stone and Myrs have the bucket brigade going in fine fashion, and begin throwing buckets in through the north window. The combination of dirt on the smoldering southern section and water in the northern conflagration is putting things out quickly.

Llewyn comes out of the stable. “Here, I grabbed a horse blanket to throw on the fire,” she says.

Paks tells, “Don’t waste the blanket. It looks like we have the fire under control. How’s the stable?”

“The stable’s fine.” 

“What were those things?” Paks asks rhetorically.

Myrs answers her, “Dead-eaters. They are humans who have been twisted beyond all recognition by disease. They like the taste of flesh, the fresher the better, but they will eat even horrendously rotten meat. They burrow underground and leap out to attack from below.”

“We’ll need to find and stop their tunnels, then,” Paks says. The freeholders continue to throw more water and earth on the smoldering hay and grease, eventually putting it out.  

We’ve survived the first wave, but we know that this raid was merely a distraction, and the worst is yet to come.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

An update. . .excellent!

I'm curious--who are the PCs at this point? Is Milo a PC? And, if so, how were his solo expeditions handled?


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## Amaroq

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> An update. . .excellent!
> 
> I'm curious--who are the PCs at this point? Is Milo a PC? And, if so, how were his solo expeditions handled?




Hahahaha....  The tip-off - any of the long-running PC's have been introduced with an italicized paragraph of their own. But, to recap, we have...

DM - joshwitz

Miriel - half-elf cleric - not posting
Chuck - human Vigilant (ranger) - not posting
Paks - human warrior - Amaroq
Stone - half-orc monk - saltlick
Goldpetal - elven druid - not posting
Milo - halfling theif - lurking but not posting
Telryn - human wizard - Fulcan

Previous PC's, departed:
Brunhilde - human wizard - not posting
Fergus - human fighter - lurking but not posting

Milo is the second incarnation of the player who was Fergus. His solo expeditions were handled by DM and player slipping off to another room. There were quite a few of them! A number of players wound up with solo scenes at different points in the campaign; sometimes handled by having DM and player arrive to the session before everybody else, and sometimes played out in front of everyone. But for Milo, whose allegiance nobody was quite sure of, they really had to be played out "off camera".

One of the things I've very much liked about this group is that there are "off camera" scenes played out by the party members. We've had plenty of situations where one player grabs another to go to another room, and a few times where joshwitz said, "Okay, so you're in town..." and got cut off with "Um, actually, we're in the middle of an in-character dialogue stipulated to have happened outside of town. You'll have to wait..."   

When you have players that into their roles, it makes for a fun gaming group!


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## Elder-Basilisk

Almost on the third page... can't have that.


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## Amaroq

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Almost on the third page... can't have that.




I apologize for the delays; my project at work has its code freeze tomorrow evening, so I've been very much in crunch mode. Its looking good, but there's still work to be done...

And for some reason, my editor chose this episode to rip and shred...   

Frankly, I think she's right; its going to take some major revision to make more sense of the battle and build tension and suspense in it, it still feels chaotic and cluttered. Work to be done, indeed.


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## Amaroq

Okay. Code freeze... and I have only three non-blocking bugs left. I'm in good shape.


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## Amaroq

*Okay*

Addition to previous log entry; Goldpetal cast _animal friendship_ on two hawks during Issue #7 which somehow got trimmed from my narrative. Re-added.


----------



## Amaroq

8th of September, 2002​
*Issue #8*

*The Siege of Kratys Freehold*​

_Kratys Freehold is besieged. We are trapped within, surrounded by a hundred ratmen, and we few defenders of the freehold are outnumbered three to one.

When we raided the ratman compound of SySy, the rat-woman who was trading poisons for human slaves, we captured her. Interrogating her uncovered a plot by one of the Disease tribes to attack Kratys Freehold, and we rushed there to warn them. We arrived just in time to be besieged within. 

A small diversionary raid by dead-eaters in the middle of the night proved almost enough to topple us, and had the ratmen attacked in force at that moment, they might have had us. As it was, the dead-eaters tunneled into the barn, killing a number of sheep and starting a fire which demonstrated just how vulnerable the wooden walls of the Freehold are. It’s about three in the morning, a few minutes after the fight ended. The last remnants of the fire have been stamped out.

Morale is at its lowest ebb, and not all within the walls are convinced that we will live through the night to see the dawn. Our hopes are pinned on two things: a messenger we have sent requesting assistance from Southport, and our desperate race to build a light catapult before the ratmen complete the catapult they are constructing._


Under the direction of Taryn Kratys, the freeholders are cleaning up after the fire. Paks, Chuck, Stone and Miriel have gathered in the center courtyard, near the half-completed catapult. The delay has set back its construction by some amount, but the framework of it is obvious. Outside the walls of the freehold, the rat men in the woods are harrying us with arrows any time they can see our heads over the five-foot-tall walls, so everyone is crouched or seated whenever possible. 

As we gather around, Paks looks sharply at Stone. “Stone, you don’t look so well,” she says. The half-orc, injured during the fight with the dead-eaters, was revived by Miriel’s healing, but Paks is right. Now, he is shivering and looks very ill. As everyone turns to look at him, he collapses.  

Miriel crouches by his side, and feels his forehead. “He’s feverish,” the priestess says, “And unconscious, but breathing. I’ll take him into one of the sick rooms, but I’m too exhausted to do much for him right now. I need to sleep.”

“The dead-eaters are much feared, for they pass disease at their touch,” Myrs tells us, “Though Corpse Blisters are more common than a fever.” The wife of Taryn Kratys, Myrs is the lady of the freehold. 

Two of the freeholders help Miriel carry the hefty monk into one of the rooms off the main hall, which she is preparing for use as a hospital during the expected battle.

After they leave, one of the townsfolk, a guard named Garth, runs up and announces breathlessly, “SySy’s escaped!” We hardly have any chance to react to that news before we get another surprise.

With a quiet clap of displaced air, a tall, brown-haired man appears out of thin air. He has a white owl on his shoulder. He looks disoriented, and asks a townswoman where he is; the townswoman simultaneously asks “Who are you?”

“I am Telryn,” the tall stranger introduces himself. He looks young, a youth on the verge of manhood, perhaps seventeen years of age. He looks about him with his eyes wide. “I was sent this way, seeking someone who has knowledge of an arcane ink. Where am I?” 

His mysterious appearance has followed closely upon trouble: SySy’s escape, and the grease fire in the barn, so everyone regards him suspiciously. Chuck grudgingly says, “We’re in Kratys Freehold,” but explains no more.

Paks takes charge of the situation. “Chuck, watch the kid,” she says. Chuck turns to regard the youth, his hand on his hilt, but it doesn’t appear that Telryn is likely to offer any resistance. Paks turns to Garth, and asks “So, what’s this? How could SySy have escaped?”

Garth is an older man, with a grizzled gray beard and a plain, gruff manner of speaking. He tells his tail in brief, clipped words. He was assigned to guard SySy, who was locked on the second floor of the tower. When the alarm bell rang, he ran down to the doorway, where he could see the fight. He claims that he saw Milo, who told him that there was a fire in the barn, which he was needed to fight. When Garth asked who would watch SySy, Milo answered that he would. Garth helped fight the fire, and returned to his charge as soon as it was clear that he was no longer needed. When he went back, she was gone, and Milo was nowhere to be seen.

Paks glances at Taryn, to defer to the lord of the hold, but he seems to be looking at her expectantly, and says nothing. She turns to Chuck. “Chuck, can you please lock Garth up until we can sort out how SySy escaped?” 

Telryn looks very nervous, and asks, “Should I be worried about being locked up?” Nobody answers him, which makes him more anxious.

“Should I hogtie him?” asks Chuck, gesturing towards Garth. 

“No!” answers Taryn Kratys firmly. It is the first time the lord of the hold has spoken on the issue. He explains, “Garth fought with me at the battle of Twotrees.”

“That may be,” says Paks, “But it was either Garth or Milo who let SySy get away.”

Taryn nods his head, and says, “That is true. But treat him with respect. It should be sufficient to lock him in the tower.”

“Very well,” Paks says. “Chuck?” Chuck nods, and takes the protesting guard away to the tower. 

Chuck takes Garth up to the tower, locking him in the very room that SySy was recently locked in.  Before he leaves, he examines the room. He sees an untied rope and an empty vial, but no signs of struggle. He examines the vial and thinks it was probably a healing potion. 

Chuck looks at Garth with compassion, and apologizes to him for locking him up. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

“Just save the hold from the rat men!” Garth implores him. 

As he stands in the doorway, Chuck considers offering him a dagger to use on himself, if the worst should befall us. With a shake of his head, he decides against it. He closes and locks the door.



When Chuck returns, he finds that Telryn is even more confused, given the hostile reception he has received so far. Some of the townspeople want him locked up, as well. Paks explains roughly where the freehold is located. Telryn does not seem pleased. When Chuck explains the situation, and how we are surrounded and outnumbered by the rat men, he begins to look very grim. 

Telryn starts to tell his story. “I am but an errand boy,” he says, “Sent by my master to fetch glitter ink…” 

Before Telryn can even finish the sentence, Chuck darts away again. This time he runs after Miriel. He finds her just turning in to bed. He tells her that there’s a guy looking for glitter ink. Miriel refers Chuck to Paks, and rolls over to face the wall. 

Telryn continues, “…a special ink used in some of my master’s arcane work. He sent me to a mage named Delmeron, who told me he would send me to a place where I could find some. He cast a spell, and suddenly I found myself in this courtyard.”

He looks around, and sees Paks and Taryn nodding thoughtfully. Encouraged, he adds, “Obviously, this is not the best situation to be in, but I’m willing to help however I can.”

“Who is your master?” inquires Paks. She is suspicious, but not confrontational. A mage’s help, if Telryn should prove trustworthy, could be invaluable. 

“He’s a powerful mage in Molistown,” Telryn says, just as Chuck returns. “His name is Loowys Strangeblood.” Not all of us have heard of Molistown, but Paks and Chuck have. They know that it is a large town up-river from Lave, built at a place where riverboats must pass through a series of locks, and that the town’s wealth comes largely from the taxation they are able to place on river traffic.

“Very well,” Paks says. “We’d be glad of your help.”

Chuck pulls Paks aside, to explain what happened with SySy. He tells her that Milo probably gave SySy a healing potion, so it was also probably Milo who freed her. She responds by asking him to keep a weather eye on Telryn in case the mage turns on us.

Paks begins giving orders. She sends some people to check the integrity of the wall around the stable. She calls to Goldpetal and the guard on the tower, telling them that Telryn is friendly, and that he has offered to help. She sets some of the children to search for Milo and SySy, taking the two guard dogs and a number of sheepdogs, with an adult supervising. She sends Chuck back to reinforcing the exterior walls, and asks Telryn to help him, while Myrs and her work party resume their work on the catapult we are building in the center of the courtyard.

Paks goes, with a few of the townsmen, to check the barn for tunnels. About half the livestock are dead, and she starts the townsmen on moving the live ones out of the building, and treating their wounds. When she investigates the ground, she finds some tight tunnels into the barn. Though they are too small for a man in armor, she thinks that an unarmored woman or youth could slip through them. She suspects that they’re probably big enough for rat men. 

She calls Chuck and his work party over, and tells him to fill the ends of the tunnels with bricks. 

While they work, Chuck summarizes the situation at the hold for Telryn. He tells the story of how we captured SySy, and learned of the impending attack, and arrived just in time to be trapped with the freeholders. He explains how Nik, the slave we rescued from SySy’s complex, has gone to Southport, but that we are not sure whether we can count on assistance from them or not. Telryn looks increasingly nervous as Chuck’s description of the predicament makes it clear how precarious our position is. 



About an hour after the dead-eater’s attack, at the darkest part of the night, all is quiet. The sound of Brand, the smith, hammering away in his forge, rings across the compound. The sound is reassuring: he is working on repairing the five suits of chain mail, which will let us armor some of the freeholders for the fight to come.

Without warning, a bolt of fire splits the night, and arcs above the walls. It streaks towards the watchtower, where Goldpetal stands watch with one of the best archers in the hold. They both dive aside at the last minute, and it hits the spot where the archer was standing, leaving a scorched and steaming area. 

Paks tells everyone to hold their places and watch the woods carefully. Goldpetal calls down a description, saying that it came out from behind the trees, as though launched from hiding in the orchards, but that he couldn’t see who had cast the spell.

Several minutes of tense waiting pass, but no further attack is forthcoming. The children have finished their search for Milo and SySy, without success, and Paks sets a guard to patrolling inside the walls and buildings with a dog, watching for more burrowing attacks. 

As the first hint of daylight begins to creep into the sky, turning it dark blue, Chuck’s work party finishes filling the tunnels with bricks. Telryn is exhausted from the backbreaking labor, and has to retire to catch some sleep. After a brief rest, Chuck puts the remainder of the group goes back to work reinforcing the walls.

Miriel wakes up and checks on Stone. He stills looks very sick. She warns everyone to stay away from him, saying that he is diseased and contagious, and brings him some food and drink herself. He has trouble eating or drinking, and doesn’t appear coherent. Fever rages through his body.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #8: The Seige of Kratys Freehold. Episode 2 of 6*

As the first light of the sun reaches the top of the tower, and the smell of Miriel’s cooking wafts across the compound, morale begins to lift. With the coming of the sun’s light, it is almost as though the gods themselves are smiling upon us, and we begin to believe that we can prevail, despite the disease tribe’s superior numbers.  It is Taniday, the 18th day of Charder, and we can only hope that Tanil grants us luck today.

With the early morning light, Goldpetal sends his two hawk companions out east and west to see what they can spy. He warns them to be careful to stay above bowshot range, flying well above the level of the trees. He discovers that the bond between he and the hawks is stronger than he had expected, and he is actually able to speak with them, when they return. The hawks tell him that they saw a camp to the southwest where something big is being assembled. They see a flock of people around it. They also see a really big person that they don’t like at all. They describe him as shiny and clunky. They tell him that there are other small flocks of people and a few individuals in the woods. 

Goldpetal comes down from the tower to have breakfast with the rest of us, and tells Paks what the hawks report. He adds that he thinks it may be a catapult, or some siege engine designed for dealing with our walls. He keeps sending the hawks out, at ten-minute intervals, to check and see if a large group of rat men is moving towards the freehold. The smith, Brand, also informs Paks that he has completed the repairs on five suits of chain mail, which she issues to townsmen.

Shortly after breakfast, still early in the morning, Myrs announces that the catapult is complete. Her crew is tired, but proud as they tromp into the dining hall for well-deserved food and rest. We all gather around the catapult, with Taryn and Myrs, and debate how to make the best use of our new weapon.

“There are the dead-eater corpses,” Chuck suggests. “We haven’t wanted to touch them due to the disease; they need to be burned. Why don’t we coating them in pitch, light them, and catapult them onto the enemy’s siege engine? With any luck, we could burn it before they complete it.”

Taryn shakes his head. “A wildfire through those dry, empty fields could be worse for my freehold than the ratman attack.” It is late summer, and all of the grassland we came through to the freehold is dry. It would burn easily. 

“What do you suggest we throw?” asks Goldpetal. 

“I don’t know. Bricks,” Taryn suggest. “We also have some chains and caltrops.” 

“Why don’t we send parties out into the woods to attack those archers?” Miriel suggests. “Its only a matter of time before one of them gets lucky and wounds someone.” 

Paks vetoes this idea. “No. I want to lure the ratmen out to attack our siege engine, where we are defended and they are not. Attacking them in the woods would be suicidal.”

“What keeps the ratmen from burning us out?” asks Telryn. 

We all look fairly horrified. “Nothing,” Paks answers for us all.

“Let’s fill sacks with pitch,” suggests Chuck, “And splatter the rat men camp. That’d make them less likely to play with fire.”

“Or give them the idea,” Paks says. “Telryn, can your owl get a more accurate view of the camp?”

“His name is Chester,” Telryn says. “And yes, he can. I also have a flask of Alchemist’s fire, which we could dip arrows in to shoot when the rat men approach the walls.” 

“Right,” Paks says. “Here’s the plan. We’ll load that barrel of nails into the catapult, and fling it towards the camp where the hawks saw that siege engine. They won’t have any warning, and we should catch a lot of them out from cover. Then we’ll start ranging on the catapult with corpses; when we get the range, we’ll switch to firing bricks. Telryn, Goldpetal, you keep the birds watching the camp, and spot for us. Everyone, remember the positioning we discussed last night: if we can force them to attack us, run to your station. Don’t wait for an order.”

We load fifty pounds worth of nails, the maximum load the light catapult can handle, into the cup at the top of the catapult arm. Myrs, a former combat engineer, sets the range and angle as best as she can, and we fire our load of nails into the ratman camp. Telryn, whose telepathic connection with his familiar lets him give us immediate updates, tells us, “It worked! The rat men are scattering into the woods. Some of them are clearly injured, and some lie still on the ground.” He chuckles. “There is much chaos!”

“Good,” Paks says, “Re-load.”

It takes about fifteen minutes to re-set and reload the catapult, and we load about fifty pounds, or a third of a dead-eater corpse. The ratmen seem confused and discouraged, and have not attacked us.  We launch the gory payload at the rat men’s catapult. Though it overshoots, we get good ranging information. 

Goldpetal, standing atop the tower, scans the edge of the forest through the telescope. Other than the few ratman archers behind their blinds, he doesn’t see much activity. Shortly, however, the hawks warn that the rat men seem to be regrouping. 

We begin to reload the catapult, and after another fifteen minutes, we launch another fifty pounds of dead-eater corpse at them. This time, we hit the catapult. Despite the unconventional nature of our projectile, we’ve damaged it somewhat. From what Chester tells us, through Telryn, we’ve clearly set back their work on it, and we begin to load the catapult with bricks. 

“Okay,” Paks says. “They won’t be able to complete it, as long as our catapult is functional. They’ll have to attack. Be ready.”

She is proved right within minutes. “Here they come!” shouts Goldpetal, and one of the guards with him begins to ring the alarm bell. 

We have only a short moment to ready ourselves.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Milo the traitor... it has a certain appropriateness to it. And I knew he reminded me of the Peck from Wulf's story hour!


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #8: The Seige of Kratys Freehold. Episode 3 of 6*

As the defenders rush to their battle positions, Goldpetal looks south from atop the tower. He has a clear view of the enemy, and this is clearly the invader’s major assault. His keen eyes can pick up two groups of ratmen charging through the southern orchards towards us, the larger emerging from the southeast corner and charging towards the main gate, on the eastern wall, with a smaller group rushing from the southwest corner towards the rear gate. In the southwest, he catches a glimpse of a giant, armored ratman. He quickly casts _entangle_ at that group, trying to capture the giant. The very trees of the orchard, and the grasses at their feet, seem to come alive, trapping perhaps twenty ratmen. The giant tears free, however, ripping the limb off of a tree. Archers, still hidden in the blinds at the edge of the no-man’s land, unleash a volley of arrows at the elf, but he ducks beneath the wooden wall of the tower. Arrows thud harmlessly into the wooden walls, and sail overhead into the rapidly emptying courtyard.

The rest of us array ourselves as Paks had directed. Our strongest group climbs to the roof of the main hall, where they have strong footing and can overlook the main gate and both the southern and eastern approaches. Led by Taryn, this group includes Chuck, Delonia, and ten of the townspeople – including the “heavy infantry”, those five townsmen who were issued the repaired suits of chain mail. Telryn casts _mage armor_ on himself, and follows them. Paks takes three dogs, and climbs the eastern wall just north of the main gate. One of the dogs is a trained guard dog, with a spiked collar, but the others are sheepdogs: smart, but ill-suited to a fight. At the northeast corner of the compound, Brand and his assistant climb to the roof of the forge. Llewyn rushes into the stable, the northwest corner of the compound, to saddle and mount her warhorse. There is one freeholder atop the ruined barn, along the western wall, overlooking the rear gate, and he calls for help as the ratmen rush towards it. A squad of four more freeholders rush towards him, and direct the remaining dogs to the rear gate. Miriel runs into the main hall, which we intend to be a hospital for the wounded. Chester, Telryn’s owl, joins her. Goldpetal’s hawks circle high above the battlefield.

Before many of the defenders have reached their positions, the ratmen break into the clear area around the walls before. The roar of a hundred voices echoes within the freehold. They charge across the clearing towards the walls, grey fur rippling in the sunlight, metal glinting from their blades. Goldpetal, from atop the tower, shoots an arrow into the mass of ratmen charging from the southeast, and draws first blood, wounding one. Myrs and Telryn climb up to the tower, where they will be able to cast spells all across the battlefield. Brand earns the first kill, firing his great bow into the ratman charge before they reach the walls.

The captain of the rat men, Xyler Blackfoot reaches the walls of the main hall and kitchen. Chuck shoots his bow at the captain, but misses. A hail of arrows rains down on the roof of the hall, as two squads of rat men archers loose their arrows from the orchard. None of the arrows hit, but they are forcing us to be cautious; Delonia shelters under cover, away from the arrows. Taryn shoots at the captain from the roof of the kitchen, but misses badly. Shaking his head in disgust, he draws another arrow. Milo is attacking with the ratmen, and he is at the base of the wall, below the captain. The horde of ratmen are right behind them, and they range themselves along the front wall. A half-squad of freeholders reaches the top of the roof, but their rushed bowshots are ineffective.

The captain starts climbing the wall, followed by Milo and perhaps fifty ratmen. Another twenty ratmen archers remain back at the edge of the orchard, firing a hail of arrows at anyone they can see above the walls. The ratmen spread out along the length of the eastern wall, spreading all the way from the hall in the southern corner to the forge in the northern corner. They, too begin to climb.

Chuck moves through the rain of arrows, unhurt, to lean over the edge. He shoots down at the captain and puts an arrow right through him. Taryn joins him, at his right shoulder, and also buries an arrow in the Blackfoot’s shoulder. The unarmored squad of freeholders atop the hall fires down on the climbing ratmen, killing one. Milo is the fastest climber, and reaches the top of the wall first. As the halfling reaches the top of the wall, the defenders drop their bows and draw swords. The closest freeholder chops at Milo’s hands, cutting his right arm badly and knocking him off the wall. The halfling tumbles down, but lands on his feet. 

Paks and the dogs are standing to the left of the main gate, and she draws her longsword in preparation. The heavy infantry squad steps onto the wall between the hall and the main gate, on the right side of the gate. They also fire bows down on the climbing ratmen, but their arrows fly too far, hitting the ground below. Five ratmen are climbing the walls of the forge, where only Brand and his assistant are. They take one last shot with their bows, both missing, and draw swords. In moments, the ratmen reach the top of the shorter walls.



At the back gate, the ratman lieutenant leads the charge, but unbeknownst to him, Goldpetal’s spell has deprived him of most of his troops. In the woods behind him, the elf’s entanglement has trapped the ratmen’s shaman, and most of the lieutenant’s cohort. The great mauler, the huge, muscled ratman in heavy armor, stops and begins trying to free the shaman. The lieutenant’s corps is reduced to merely five other ratmen, but there is only one freeholder atop the ruined barn overlooking the back gate. 

Telryn climbs to the top of the tower, joining Goldpetal and Myrs, who have turned their attentions to the ill-defended back gate. They are trying to buy time for the five freeholders rushing across the courtyard to reinforce the solitary defender. Goldpetal, like the lone defender atop the gate, fires his bow at the lieutenant. With two arrows sticking from his chest, the lieutenant presses on, reaching the wall and beginning to climb. Myrs casts a _sleep_ spell on the ratmen behind him. Four of them fall asleep, right at the base of the wall; the lieutenant and one other continue to climb. The five reinforcements reach the barn, climbing up a ladder to the rooftop. They spread out, readying their bows. 

The lieutenant reaches the top of the wall at the same moment. He has a scimitar in his right hand, a shield in his left, and a great mace attached to his tail. He stands on the catwalk and bellows a challenge, holding his scimitar aloft. Just as he issues his challenge, the reinforcements fire their bows at him. Two more arrows hit him, and he tumbles down off the catwalk, dead. The last freeholder on top of the barn runs to the catwalk, above the climbing ratman. When it reaches the top, the freeholder is waiting for it, and runs it through. The back gate is secure.

The five freeholders who had arrived as reinforcements begin running along the catwalk along the interior of the wall, leaving the solitary freeholder to deal with the sleeping ratmen below.  



Along the eastern wall, the ratmen reach the top of the walls, pouring over our defenses like a wave over a sandcastle. The defenders draw melee weapons and try to knock as many as they can off the walls. 

Paks, standing alone at the main gate, swings her longsword at the first ratmen to reach her. Fighting from the narrow catwalk atop the wall, she misses her footing, and unluckily she drops her sword over the wall! As she falls to the catwalk, the ratmen swarm their way onto it, over and above her. The guard dog tears one apart, and the heavy infantrymen knock four of the ratmen off the wall as they reach the top: none of them survive the fall. However, at least twenty ratmen have breached the top of the wall between the gate and the forge. Paks plays dead, letting rat-clawed feet climb over and past her. The ratmen kill one of the sheepdogs, and wound several of the heavy infantrymen as well. Although they are not injured seriously, they are all pushed back away from Paks, leaving her completely surrounded!

Atop the forge, Brand and his assistant are also in dire trouble. Five ratmen have reached the top of the forge, facing only the two defenders. One of the ratmen scratches Brand with a scimitar, drawing first blood. Panicked, the smith brings his bastard sword around in a wild blow. When it meets opposing steel, he loses his grip on the sword, and it flies off the roof. He tumbles to the floor, and the ratmen leap on him, slicing him with their scimitars. Three hit, and he’s badly wounded, but still conscious.  



Xyler Blackfoot, the ratmen’s captain, reaches the top of the main hall. An epic battle ensues between he, Chuck, and Taryn on the rooftop. Chuck draws first blood his longsword, cutting deep as the captain climbs the last few feet, but does not knock him off the wall. The captain parries Taryn’s attack, vaulting over the top of the wall with his other hand, and stands before him. His sword is a segmented whip-sword, and he slices at Chuck first. The sword extends, completely defeating Chuck’s attempt to parry with his short sword, wrapping around that blade to score a critical hit on Chuck. Bleeding heavily from a mighty blow to the ribs, Chuck fights on. 

A hailstorm of arrows, fired indiscriminately by the archers at the orchard’s edge, continues to rain down on them, but the combatants ignore it. Chuck and Taryn attack in coordination, and Chuck’s blow is met with a firm parry. That leaves the captain open to Taryn’s attack, and the lord of the hold calls upon his deity as he smites the captain with a tremendous blow. He shouts “Corean!” His sword cuts deep into the left shoulder of the ratman, nearly severing the arm with his critical hit, but amazingly the ratman captain fights on!

Worse, his swordplay has bought the time for twenty more ratmen to reach the top, and they look set to overrun the ten defenders there.



From the tower, Goldpetal can’t see Paks, but he shoots into the group of rat men on the catwalk. He wounds one. The freeholder shoots into the woods, at the mauler, and hits it hard. 

Unhindered by the arrow sunk deep in his thigh, the mauler gives one final heave and finally pulls the shaman free. The shaman wastes no time and casts a spell. Fire arcs from his fingertips towards the tower, right at Myrs! But she recognizes the arcing fire from the previous night, and dives out of the way. Seeing this, and realizing that he is out of range for his best spells, Telryn climbs down the staircase inside the tower and rushes back to the roof of the hall.

At the main gate, the guard dog fights his way to Paks’ side, ripping the throat out of one of the ratmen. Paks draws her short sword and gets to her feet. Surrounded, she is hard pressed to do more than parry attacks with her sword and shield. The heavy infantry try to advance along the catwalk towards her, but they can make no progress. 

Llewyn bursts from the stable atop her warhorse. Sizing up the situation in a brief moment, she rides to the back gate. There, she gathers the other dogs, leading them back towards the eastern wall.

The ratmen now control the main gate, and the sheepdog jumps down off the catwalk in the face of overwhelming odds. About fifteen ratmen jump down from the catwalk, bypassing the heavy infantry, and head for the catapult. Some of them pull out slings and whirl stones at Paks and the guard dog. Three of the stones hit the guard dog, but that merely enrages him. Four of them hit Paks, and one of those catches her bare head, knocking her out. She tumbles from the catwalk, and lies in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the wall.


----------



## Broccli_Head

Whoa! It doesn't look good for the defenders..


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #8: The Seige of Kratys Freehold. Episode 4 of 6*

Things do indeed look bleak for the defenders of Kratys Freehold. The ratmen have breached the eastern wall, and, twenty ratmen have piled to the top of the main hall in the southeast corner. Yet more are atop the forge, the northeast point of the wall, where only two defenders resist, and there are still twenty archers firing arrows blindly into the melee. The mauler and shaman are now free of Goldpetal’s entanglement, and if they advance to the attack, there is nobody free to deal with them.



Twenty ratmen scrabble their way over the top of the wall, onto the roof of the main hall. Six of the freeholders try to hold them at the edge, and wound several of them, knocking one off the edge of the wall. By sheer force of numbers, the ratmen drive them back. Several of the freeholders are injured as they give ground, and one is skewered brutally. The survivors fight desperately for their lives. Two of the ratmen join the sword duel between Taryn Kratys and Xyler Blackfoot, the ratman captain; they both wound Taryn. He turns, and lops the head off of one. The captain takes advantage of his adversary’s momentary distraction to attack Chuck, and the whipsword again proves more than a match for the young Vigilant. Hit hard, he collapses, bleeding, to the roof of the hall. 

Three of the ratmen attack Delonia, the mage who once worked for SySy. She wears no armor, and they gloat as they cut her. She snarls as she brings up her hands and utters a quick arcane phrase, _burning hands_. A fan of flames jets from her fingers, igniting their nappy fur. They scream in pain and rage. Telryn, behind her, tries to cast _sleep_ at some of the others, but in his panic he jumbles the words, and the spell fails him. 

A constant hail of arrows is falling into the melee, fired indiscriminately by the ratman archers at the orchard’s edge. Two of those arrows pierce Taryn’s mail just as his long sword thrusts into the heart of a ratman. He yells for Miriel, “Medic!” and tries to position himself between the captain and Chuck’s bleeding body.

The rat men Delonia had lit on fire drop and roll to put it out, but the others try to attack her before she can make another pyrotechnic display. One of them moves too close to Taryn, and his flashing blade catches it in the neck. It is dead before it hits the blood-drenched wood of the roof. Others push past the freeholder infantry to attack her, and faced with numerous blades, she is hit repeatedly. One blow catches her in the side of the head. Bleeding profusely from the temple, she falls face-first to the roof.



On the roof of the forge, Brand and his assistant are surrounded and outnumbered five to two. Brand scrambles to his feet, drawing his longsword. Reinforcements for both sides rush towards the forge. The first to arrive are six more ratmen rushing along the catwalk to attack them. Four of them engage Brand’s assistant, and their numerous blades drive him mercilessly towards the edge of the wall! 

Five of the freeholders from the barn and back gate are running along the catwalk towards the forge, and Llewyn has dispatched three dogs towards this point. The dogs are even now heading into the forge and up the stairs towards them. Outside the walls of the complex, five ratman archers move out from their archery blind at the edge of the orchard, towards the forge. They fire their bows at the five freeholders, who are crossing the stable, only seconds away from reaching the fight. It’s a tough shot, and all of the archers miss.

Though surrounded by five ratmen, Brand finds an opening, and thrusts the point of his longsword into a ratman’s breast. It falls, but the others circle him warily, unwilling to press too close to that deadly blade. Their hesitation costs them their advantage, as the dogs arrive. The guard dog from the eastern wall, chasing the ratmen, attacks from the flank. The second guard dog comes up the stairs behind the ratmen, and bites one of them hard. The sheepdogs also pile into the fray, wounding another ratman. Disheartened by the sudden reinforcements, several of the ratmen stumble around in confusion, but one gets a telling hit on the assistant. He staggers, near the verge of collapse.

Below, in the center courtyard, Llewyn charges the fifteen ratmen by the catapult astride her mighty warhorse. The steed, so much larger than her opponents, tramples one with its hooves. The others surround her, some attacking with scimitars, and others attacking with tooth and claw like animals. 

Myrs, from atop the tower, sees the danger to her daughter, and casts _sleep_ into the crowd. The spell puts three of the ratmen to sleep. The heavy infantry leap down from the wall, crashing into the back of the group; they are all wounded, but fight bravely. Llewyn is hit as well, but her warhorse tramples the three sleeping rat men. She attacks another with her longsword, slicing off its head with a single, powerful blow.

The tide of battle in the courtyard begins to change; the shock of two successive charges has broken some of their spirit, and five of the ratmen break off from that group, darting into the apparent safety of the forge.



Atop the hall, things are still dire. Delonia and Chuck are bleeding to death, while Taryn Kratys and Xyler Blackfoot duel above them. The five freeholder swordsmen, fighting grimly, have killed about five of the ratmen, but there are still eleven surviving ratmen battling on led by their captain. Five of the archers are advancing from the orchards towards the freehold, launching arrow after arrow with little effect. Milo, after waiting at the base of the wall, now tries to climb the wall again, but he seems to have hurt himself in his previous fall, and he has difficulty. Next to him, the only rat man to have survived a fall from the wall is using his sling to throw small stones into the melee above; he hasn’t hit anything. 

The mauler and the shaman are skirting the edge of the orchard, circling around towards the southeast corner of the freehold, but staying in the cover of the trees. Goldpetal and the other archer atop the tower keep them honest, firing into the trees. The freeholder gets lucky, and another arrow buries itself into the mauler’s left bicep. He ignores it.

Myrs, casting spells from the tower, casts _sleep_ into the fray on the roof of the hall. Four of the rat men fall, snoring peacefully despite the clamor of battle around them. Miriel, rushing to respond to Taryn’s cry for aid, reaches the top of the hall, poking her head out the top of the ladder, but staying mostly down and out of sight.

As the ratman captain fences with Taryn, the youthful mage, Telryn, casts _magic missile_ at him. A small ball of iridescent blue energy coalesces at his fingertips, and flies directly into the captain’s chest. He shrugs it off, and glares at Telryn. In a heavy accent, he growls, “Traitorspawn witch! You will die next!”

The exchange distracts him, however, and he takes his eyes off of Taryn’s blade to issue the threat. It is the last mistake he ever makes. Even as he speaks, Taryn leaps forward inside the reach of the captain’s sword. He slashes his blade across the captain’s chest, and as the ratman leader doubles forward in pain, Taryn presses the attack. The second blow chops the captain’s head off; it bounces once off of the wooden roof, and rolls sightlessly away.

The surviving ratmen look around in dismay. Two of them lower their weapons, and are quickly run through on the swords of the freeholders. Three of the freeholders kneel to kill the sleeping rat men. The odds atop the roof have suddenly shifted, from well in favor of the ratmen to clearly favor the defenders.



Miriel takes advantage of that moment of indecision to rush across the rooftop to Chuck’s side. “Madriel!” she cries, laying her hands against his bleeding ribs. Healing power courses through her hand as she heals him, and he looks around groggily.

At this display of divine power, four of the five surviving ratmen rush at her. Taryn kills the first to reach her, but two of them wound her. The last one slips on the wet wood of the rooftop, losing his scimitar entirely.

Telryn has exhausted his ability to cast spells. In desperation, he draws out his light crossbow, and at close range launches a quarrel at one of the ratmen attacking Miriel. His first shot goes straight through the heart, killing it. He looks down at the crossbow with respect dawning across his face, and rapidly starts to reload.

Myrs throws open the door from the tower, which opens onto the roof of the hall. She steps over to Delonia’s bleeding body. She shouts to Miriel, “Take care of Paks!” and begins bandaging the worst of Delonia’s wounds. Miriel looks around, and spots Paks’ body, bleeding on the catwalk of the eastern wall. There is nobody near it.

Chuck clambers back to his feet as Miriel rushes that direction. There are only three ratmen remaining on the roof, and he and Taryn begin to advance on them from one side, while the other freeholders attack them from the other side. Just as they reach them, an arrow buries itself in Taryn’s neck. It narrowly misses killing him, but the lord of the freehold kills two of the last ratmen with mighty blows of his sword. The other freeholders dispatch the last one, and Taryn drops to his knees, holding his hands around the arrow, but clearly afraid to pull it out.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #8: The Seige of Kratys Freehold. Episode 5 of 6*

The ratmen atop the hall may have been beaten, and their captain killed, but the siege is not yet broken. Twenty archers are still pouring arrows into the complex, the roof of the forge is nearly overrun, and at least fifteen more have broken into the courtyard. The mauler and shaman lurk, watching, at the edge of the orchard; Goldpetal shoots another arrow into the mauler’s wounded left leg. It’s limping.



On the roof of the forge, Brand runs a ratman through with his sword. The dogs surround and harry the others. One of the guard dogs knocks a ratman prone on the roof, and tears out his throat, while the other grabs another ratman and thrashes his head back and forth, shaking the hapless ratman like a rag doll. Its neck breaks, and the dog drops it. Six ratmen survive, harried into a defensive circle by the sheep dogs. One of them wounds Brand’s assistant, but Brand knocks the weapon from another’s hands; it falls to its knees before him.

Five archers continue to advance towards the wall of the forge, from the north. They fire a steady stream of arrows at the combatants, but don’t seem to be very effective. Their shots are rushed and wild, typically overshooting into the courtyard of the compound. From the courtyard, two sling stones hit one of the guard dogs; intent on tearing apart its victim, the dog hardly seems to notice.

The five freeholder reinforcements from the back gate finally arrive at the forge rooftop. “To Llewyn!” shouts one, seeing that Brand and the dogs have the ratmen penned up, and he leads the others down the stairs into the forge itself. Standing within are the cowardly group of ratmen, standing near the door and slinging stones into the courtyard. The freeholders charge into the back of the group with swords, and it is almost easy. They kill the first, and badly wound all of the others. The shock of their charge drives the others back into the courtyard, terrified.



There are still ten ratmen in the courtyard; the heavy infantry are between them and the main hall, fencing madly. The clash of arms rings loudly through the courtyard, but neither side can get an advantage. A solitary sheepdog barks at the ratmen. Llewyn, astride her horse, continues to lay about her, but she is completely surrounded. As she parries the attack of one on her right, his compatriot gets a telling blow to her ribs. From the other side, the flat side of a scimitar hits her in the head, and the blow knocks her unconscious in the saddle. That ratman pays the price, however, as her warhorse kicks it with his hooves. Its ribs are crushed, and the ratman falls to die slowly in the dirt of the courtyard.

Miriel sprints out of the door from the hall, and rushes over to Paks, who lies in a slow spreading pool of blood at the foot of the main gate. As Miriel reaches Paks, she can see that her healing skills will be sorely tested, and she utters a quick prayer. “Madriel, save my friend!” As she kneels beside the fallen warrior to begin the healing, the heavy infantry make a shield wall between her and the eight ratmen who are still milling about in the courtyard. 

The ten ratmen in the courtyard are effectively trapped in a killing ground, as arrow fire pours down on them from the top of the tower, and the stray arrows from their archers outside the walls are as much danger to them as to the defenders. Goldpetal’s keen elven eyes sighted one arrow; it strikes a ratman in the neck and kills it.

The five freeholders run out of the forge, pursuing the wounded sling-bearers. They catch them, and slaughter them all. Llewyn slumps, unconscious, from the saddle. Her warhorse rears over her, lashing out with its hooves to protect her body. The few surviving ratmen are badly demoralized; they back away.



Outside, the mauler and the shaman can see that the advantage, so briefly theirs, has passed, and they retreat into the orchard. Within moments, they have disappeared into the woods. A few of the ratmen archers follow them, abandoning their fellows. Milo, who had never made it to the top of the wall and into the courtyard, begins to run away as well.

There are still perhaps twenty ratmen entangled by Goldpetal’s _entangle_ spell in the orchard to the southwest. With their captain and his lieutenant slain, they are no longer fighting to free themselves and attack, they are struggling to free themselves and flee, but that proves just as futile. 

On the roof of the hall, Delonia is still bleeding. Telryn stands guard over her with his crossbow ready, but there are no useful targets for him. Myrs reaches Delonia, and cradles her body, uncorking a potion of healing. She tips the sorceress’ head back, and pours the potion down her throat, bringing some color back to her pallid face.

Taryn, meanwhile, has an arrow stuck in his neck. It missed any vital areas on its entry, but could be just as dangerous to him if he tried to pull it out. He fumbles in his pouch for a potion of healing, uncorks it, and drinks. The wound closes magically from underneath the arrow, pushing the arrow back out as the flesh knits underneath it. Finally, it falls harmlessly to the roof, and the lord of the freehold picks up his sword and rises to his feet.

Behind him, one of his freeholders walks among the ratmen, slitting throats to ensure that the sleeping die and the dead are truly dead. The others stand at the side, firing out at the last of the archers visible at the edge of the orchard. They kill the ratman which fell from the roof as it tries to flee.

Chuck, too, stands at one of the archery blinds, his bow drawn. He concentrates deeply, and utters a brief prayer, “Gods helps me,” as he looses the arrow. He aims for Milo’s leg, trying to lame him, but the arrow skips off the ground just to the right of the halfling. Even as Chuck knocks another arrow, he realizes that the little fellow will have escaped into the cover of the orchard before he is ready.

The last five archers start retreating towards the cover of the orchard. They had been firing at those on top of the hall, but now they shift their fire to Milo, narrowly missing him as he slips into the protective confines of the orchard. The five freeholders atop the hall shoot their few remaining arrows at the archers, but the archers reach the edge of the orchard and slip away.

Goldpetal sends his hawks flying in the direction Milo was headed. He casts a spell from the top of the tower. Nobody sees him casting, and none of the other combatants can see the effects.



The five north-most archers advancing pause, hesitating about twenty feet from the forge. Stationary, their shots are more effective; one kills Brand’s assistant, and he falls over the edge of the forge, dying on the ground outside the walls of the complex. Another arrow wounds Brand, but he fights on, alone now atop his forge.

One of the guard dogs leaps against the ratman which fell to its knees, bears it to the ground, and mauls it savagely. The other dog leaps in the air, but is knocked aside. Tumbling, he falls, but deftly lands on his feet and recovers. The sheepdogs continue to harry the other ratmen; one bites a ratman’s calf, tugging on it and tearing muscle.

With the tide of the battle clearly turned, these archers, too, start backing away. They continue to fire at Brand, and arrows bounce from his mail; only one does any telling damage. Four ratmen remain atop the forge, and Brand attacks them with abandon, killing one. The two guard dogs kill a second, while the two sheep dogs finish off the wounded one. 

The final ratman flails desperately about with its scimitar, more of a danger to itself than his attackers. When they are done with their most recent victim, the guard dogs finish it off.



In the courtyard, Paks hovers on the verge of death. As Miriel invokes the power of Madriel to heal her, the morning sun reaches Paks’ face, and Miriel feels a great, divine power moving through her in a way unlike a normal healing. Her eyes close, and she falls into a deep, powerful trance.

Miriel can sense, through her fingers, the numerous injuries the young warrior has sustained. She is bleeding from several sword wounds to the ribs and some sort of head trauma. Even as the priestess devotes energy to stopping that bleeding, she can feel Paks slipping away, and she casts about for the damage. She finds it in the brain, where internal bleeding first from the stone and then from the fall have nearly taken the warrior’s life.

It is exhausting, and intense, but the deep trance allows Miriel to work, ever so delicately, around the brain, closing the injuries and preventing further bleeding. Eventually, she is even able to begin to clear out the bruising. When Paks finally comes awake, both she and Miriel look very weak.



Behind her, the mopping up continues. Five ratmen, surrounded, put their backs to each other. Unsurprisingly, they snarl and lash about them, fighting like the proverbial cornered rats. The five chain-armored members of the heavy infantry stand between them and the gate, where Miriel works over Paks, while five more freeholders stand between them and the catapult. The warhorse stands valiantly over Llewyn’s body, with a growling sheepdog also between Llewyn and the few surviving ratmen. 

Taryn bursts out of the hall, and runs towards Llewyn. “Chuck! Anyone! Help me!” he yells. He bursts past the ratmen as the sheepdog bites one. The horse, rearing, kills two with his hooves. Sobbing, Taryn reaches his daughter’s bleeding body, and tries unsuccessfully to bind her wounds.

The heavy infantry hammer the three remaining rat men, killing them all. Myrs runs downstairs towards Llewyn, and Chuck follows. Taryn starts calming Llewyn’s horse, lest he trample on his mistress in his desperation. Myrs kneels beside her daughter, but she can do no more than Taryn, having expended all of her healing potions. She looks to Miriel for help, but she can see that the priestess is lost to the world, deep in the process of healing Paks.



Telryn stands at the edge of the great hall, looking for more ratmen; nothing moves in the no-man’s land, save, at the back gate, where two of the freeholders have jumped down to the ground are slitting the throats of the sleeping ratmen. He summons his owl, Chester, to come up and fly above the freehold. At the back gate, the two freeholders slit the throats of the sleeping ratmen. 

In the courtyard, Taryn calms down Llewyn’s horse, and Chuck performs first aid on her, binding the worst of her wounds. She appears to be stable, and he says, “There, that should hold her until Miriel can look at her.”

“Chuck,” Telryn yells, “My owl tells me that he sees a halfling caught in some trees to the east, some archers running away, and a bunch of rat men entangled in some trees to the southwest!” 

“He’s not going anywhere,” Goldpetal calls from the tower. “I’ve entangled him.”  

“Sir,” one of the freeholders says to Taryn, who is holding the reins of the warhorse. “There are some ratmen entangled in the orchard. Shall we go deal with them?”

“Yes,” the lord answers. “But be careful. Keep a watch out for stragglers.”

A dozen freeholders, including the heavy infantry, head off to the orchard to the southeast. With bows, finishing off the entangled ratmen is easy work.



Paks and Miriel open their eyes at the same time. Their gaze meets for a moment, and the two women share a powerful bond; the glow of Madriel’s power still surrounds them both. To Paks’ eyes, the sun makes a perfect halo around Miriel’s face.

“Miriel,” Chuck says, approaching. “Is she okay?”

“She will be,” Miriel answers wearily. 

“You should look at Llewyn,” he says. Miriel looks up to see Taryn, Myrs, and Brand gathered around Llewyn. The young woman is cradled in her mother’s arms. She walks over to Llewyn to heal her as well. It takes the last reserves of her strength, but she heals the young woman. Llewyn wakes up, and she looks stronger than Miriel does as she sits up. 

Chuck and one of the other freeholders help the exhausted priestess inside, where she collapses into a deep, deep sleep. Chuck pulls a blanket over her, and steps back. He eyes her worriedly, but there is nothing more he can do for her. With a sigh, turns to head back into the courtyard.

When he gets outside, he finds Paks back in action. Despite visible wounds unhealed by the powerful magics, she has vigorously taken charge. She has already set the children to searching the interior of the freehold, with the dogs, ensuring that there are no surprises waiting inside the compound walls.

“Chuck,” she calls. “Taryn, Myrs and I are going to head out and see if we can find Milo. Want to come?”

“No,” he replies. “I’d like to search the bodies. I suggest some of the rest of you help search as well.” 

“I’ll search,” Telryn calls, from the top of the hall. 

All told, they find 250 silver pieces, and much assorted weaponry. Chuck makes sure to set aside the captain’s whipsword, and also finds an ornate rat-man dagger, a fine suit of studded leather armor, a shield, and some jewelry – a chain and two rings.

Paks, Taryn, Brand, and Myrs go out through the main gate, following Milo into the orchard to the east of the compound. They find the halfling completely enveloped by living plants, clearly the work of yet another _entangle_ from the elven druid. Myrs casts _sleep_ on the hapless halfling, putting him unconscious before Goldpetal’s spell wears off. Brand and Taryn tie the sleeping Milo up and carry him back. 

The compound is secure, and the siege is broken.


----------



## Broccli_Head

Hooray!   

Now I wonder if they'll gut Milo....


----------



## Fulcan

I forgot how useless Telryn was at first level.  For many sessions after this Telryn struggled with the fact that his magic didn't help much.  At least he could shoot a crossbow.

This was an intense seige, I wasn't sure we were going to be able to make it.  Goldpetal and his entangles definitely helped a huge amount.


----------



## Amaroq

Sorry for the long delay, folks. I hope to be returning to a daily-post format next week, but this week can only offer the coda to the previous issue, episode 6...


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #8, The Seige of Kratys Freehold. Episode 6 of 6, the coda*

When the compound is reported secure, Llewyn takes the seventeen surviving infantry, and they scour the forest and the rat man camp, looking for stragglers, and making sure to collect weapons, gear, and dismantle their siege engines.  

The spell casters are fatigued. Miriel, Goldpetal, Telryn and Myrs sleep while everyone else cleans up. Delonia is still unconscious, but no longer in danger. 

The rest of carry the rat man bodies outside of the freehold, where we build a huge pyre. Flames leap to the sky, and a great plume of smoke arises. We turn our attention inside, repairing what we can, and taking care of the animals. By noon, the freehold is almost clean, and our enemies’ pyre is smoldering. The ratmen carried little in the way of treasure: they were a raiding party, and traveling lightly. The lieutenant had a weird tail mace, and the captain’s whipsword is also notable. They all carried silver pieces (a total of 250) and cheap silver and gold jewelry. We stack the captured weapons in the smithy. Paks checks out the whip sword, but, though of a fine make, she finds its behavior completely foreign. “I wouldn’t want to use this,” she tells Chuck, “Give me good, solid steel any day!”


We are all thoroughly exhausted – since our last good night’s rest, we have had the night spent resting in the swamp, followed by traveling all through the night, continuing on to the freehold, and for most of us, staying up through the night preparing for the defense of the freehold, followed by pitched battle and the effort of cleaning up.

Miriel wakes up in the middle of the afternoon, and finds everyone asleep. It’s a hot day, and not conducive to any more effort than a siesta. She asks for her goddess’ help, and goes to Stone’s room. She spends an hour meditating and praying to Madriel for inspiration as to how to help him, but no answer comes to her. 

She heals Delonia, bringing her to consciousness, but not all the way to complete health. The two women talk, and Miriel asks Delonia if she knows anything about Stone’s disease. The sorceress shakes her head, and tells Miriel that the Disease tribes are always scheming and searching for new and more vile diseases. 

Miriel checks in on Paks again, and finds the young warrior sleeping. Though the worst of her injuries were staunched with Miriel’s first healing in battle, she is still badly battered, and Miriel takes the time to complete the healing. One of her ribs is broken, and she requires two more exhausting healings before she is well. When Miriel is done, she goes back to sleep for the afternoon. 

Kratys Freehold sleeps through the heat of the afternoon.



In the evening, Myrs and the freeholders start preparing a feast, a celebration of victory.

While they work, Delonia, Paks, and Taryn go to find and interrogate Milo. They find the halfling still imprisoned as Chuck had left him, sleeping. Delonia casts _charm person_ on him, and Paks and Taryn wake him up to question him. 

The halfling looks around, bleary-eyed. “What happened?” He doesn’t seem to know where he is. 

Paks looks at him, her face a bland mask. “You joined the rat men,” she says, “And attacked us.” 

“What?” Milo looks astounded. He stares down at the ground in silence for a minute. “I’m trying to remember,” he says. “I went out, killed rat men, and came back. You gave me darts, and I went out again. I saw the shaman and a cloaked figure talking about treachery and invading the compound. They spotted me. I ran away, but they pursued me. It felt like I ran for hours – I could get away and hide, but they kept between me and the freehold. Finally, one of them smelled me, and they caught me.” He shudders at a memory. “They beat me up and interrogated me. Afterwards, I had this compulsion to free SySy. Did you find SySy? Did she get away?” 

“She got away,” Paks says.

“Damn.” Milo shakes his head, “I guess that’s my fault, huh?”

“Yes, it’s your fault.”

Milo continues with his story. “I was instructed to set the barn on fire as a diversion, so I did. Then I freed SySy. As soon as the gag was out of her mouth, she cast a spell on me. I followed her. Now I feel like a fog has been lifted.” 

“What happened to Garth?” asks Paks, remembering that we still have the freeholder locked up as well.

“I sent him away,” Milo says, “With the story of the fire in the barn, so I could get to SySy.” 

Paks nods, and turns to Taryn. “That clears Garth,” she says, and begins walking out through the door. 

“I knew it was that stupid halfling,” Taryn tells her.

They leave Milo locked up, and Paks goes to get Chuck. Together, with Taryn, they find and free Garth.

“I apologize for locking you up,” Paks says. “We knew there was a traitor, but not who, and we just couldn’t take any chances.”

Garth doesn’t look happy, but grudgingly says, “I can see that.” 

“I believed in you,” Taryn says. “These folk have helped us save the freehold, and your name is cleared.” Garth gives a curt nod, and seems inclined to drop it.



Preparations continue for the feast, but Paks reconvenes our entire group, for further discussion of Milo’s fate. She describes the story he outlined.

“We should take Milo to Grilliam,” Goldpetal suggests, “To be sure he was really enchanted and is now free.” 

“I think it’s up to Taryn,” Paks says. “He’s the injured party.” She looks to the lord of the freehold. “We can take him back to Grilliam if you want,” she offers. 

Taryn thinks this over. “By law,” he tells us, “We are owed a weregild, but he’s your companion. Had you not arrived when you did, we’d be dead anyway. I will leave his fate in your hands. While he’s in the keep here, however, he will have to remain locked up.”

Paks inquires about the weregild. “What sort of death price do you demand?” 

“I’ll have to consider it further,” Taryn says, with a furrowed brow. “It’s a complicated situation.”

Paks turns to the rest of the group. “What does everybody else think?” 

Miriel glances at Goldpetal, and answers, “I agree with Goldpetal, about taking Milo to Grilliam. We can’t let him travel freely with us again without a satisfactory answer.” 

“Kill him right away,” Delonia says emphatically. “I never liked him, the little sneak.” She looks at Chuck, and adds, “Remember, Jim never trusted Milo, either.”

Chuck shakes his head. “I believe Milo's story,” he tells her, “But I’m even less sure if I can trust him, now.”

Taryn speaks again, with the voice of decision. “I’ll be happy with you taking Milo away,” he tells Paks, “But he can never set foot in this freehold again.”

“Does this mean we’ll be leaving soon?” asks Telryn. The young mage who arrived so unexpectedly in our midst has a quiet demeanor, and this is his first contribution to a group discussion.

“Yes,” Paks says, looking at Miriel, who nods her agreement. “But we’ll rest here tonight, first.”



At sundown, the freeholders present us with a lavish feast. 

A long table is set in the center of the courtyard, and colorful banners and flowers have been hung from the walls, the buildings, even from our catapult! The food is lavish, and quite delicious, including a spicy pasta, a good fresh bread recipe, and a number of creative dishes with fresh summer squash, and vegetables from the fields outside. Taryn makes an excellent beer, even better than Fox’s beer from the Laughing Ogre. The crown jewel of the night is a fabulous fresh peach cobbler, which Myrs pulls from the oven to serve, steaming hot, before us.

When the feasting is winding down, several of the freeholders pick up musical instruments: drums, a flute, a harp, and a fiddle, and begin playing a lively jig. There is much dancing, and to everyone’s astonishment, the normally staid and aloof Goldpetal is an exceptional vibrant and lithe dancer. Even Telryn and Paks find themselves on the dance floor, to their apparent surprise. Llewyn finds Chuck and asks him to dance with her. The festivities go long into the evening. 

While the party is in full swing, Taryn pulls Paks aside. 

“I know you’re planning to go back to Southport with the halfling,” Taryn tells her, “But I have an idea. It looks like we’ve decimated this disease tribe. Maybe you should counter-attack now? A group of adventurers like you should have no trouble with the remnant.” Seeing that she is slowly shaking her head, he says, “You don’t have to decide now.”

Paks tells him, “We might want to wait until after we go to Southport.”

“You might not want to wait too long,” he says. “It would give them a chance to fortify.”

“Good point,” Paks concedes. “Do you think Brand and Llewyn might be willing to come?”

“They might,” Taryn says, “Though I’d like to have them here. I think you guys could handle the rat men alone.” 



Through the rest of the night, Paks discusses it with the rest of the group, individually. She starts with Chuck.

“I’m all for killing rat men,” he says, when she explains the plan to him. “I’m not sure that Taryn is right about us having weakened the tribe so much, but I’m still in favor of attacking them.”

“Good,” says Paks. “Can you talk to Miriel, while I talk to Goldpetal?”

Chuck agrees, and they part ways. 

When Paks tells Goldpetal, he asks, “How many rat men escaped?”

“We think about twenty,” she says, “Plus the shaman and the mauler you saw.”

“Do you think we can catch them before they reach the rest of their tribe?” he asks.

“No,” she tells him. “I think we’ll have to chase them back to their base.”

“What if they come back to attack again?” Goldpetal asks.

“I don’t think they will,” Paks says. “I think we’ve killed their leadership.” After a moment’s contemplative silence, Paks suggests, “How about taking a look at their base, prepared to run if we’re outmatched? If we really have weakened them, we can kill them off. Perhaps there will be treasure, too.”

“I’m not interested in things made by, or belonging to rat men, but I am very interested in killing them.” His voice hardens, and he adds, “In particular that shaman. I’ll go with you.”

Meanwhile, Chuck talks to Miriel. At first she’s very leery of the idea. “I’m not sure that it’s a good idea to chase after them,” she says. “They know the swamp, and we had difficulty enough getting to SySy’s. Do you know where they live?”

“No,” he replies, “But a hundred men marching to the freehold will have left a significant trail, so it should be easy to follow them.”

When she still doesn’t look convinced, he says, “I know it’s an unnecessary battle, for us as a group, but I honestly believe it’s the right thing to do.”

“I hate to say it, but you’re right,” Miriel says, swayed by the argument that it’s the right thing to do, “But we should ask for help from the freeholders.”

Chuck agrees, and goes to find Paks.  They clearly have the heart of the group interested in the trip, and Paks says she wants to ask a few more people to come along.



Paks next talks to Telryn, and explains the plan in brief.

“You acquitted yourself well today,” she tells him, “And certainly proved your worth. Would you like to accompany us?”

“You’re obviously an interesting group,” he tells her, “But I need to get the ink I was sent for.”

“I think that the glitter ink comes from the swamp,” Paks suggests, “Based on what we know. At least, we have found some in the swamp before. Perhaps coming with us may be the quickest way to get some.”

He nods slowly. “Perhaps you’re right,” he says. “I certainly haven’t a better plan. I’ll come.”

Paks asks Llewyn and Brand if they will come. “No,” answers Llewyn, “I need to stay to protect my family.”

“And I will be needed to help rebuild,” says Brand. 

“A scouting mission to the swamp is a good idea,” Llewyn adds, “But Chuck can handle the tracking, even if he has lost two masters.”

Finally, Paks talks to Delonia. She pays the sorceress the other half of her fee, explains the plan, and asks if she’d like to come along. 

Delonia shakes her head. “No thank you! I took a beating today like I haven’t had in a very long time. I don’t think your luck is going to hold much longer. I’m done with Grilliam; I’m done with the rat men. I’m going west.”

“I’m glad you’ve stayed with us as long as you have,” Paks says. “Thank you.”



As the evening winds down, and everyone is pleasantly full, and pleasantly drunk, Goldpetal approaches Taryn. “I’ve become attached to the hawks,” he says. “Is there some way that they can come with me?” 

Taryn throws his hands wide and says expansively, “They’re yours, friend, in thanks for helping the freehold!”

“Can I buy one of the guard dogs?” asks Paks. Seeing that Taryn looks doubtful, she adds, “Or perhaps one of their puppies?”

At the last, his face lights in a smile. “Certainly!” he exclaims. “They breed true, and a puppy, well-trained, will grow to serve you well.” 

“If we do go to attack this tribe,” Paks asks, “May I invite some of the freeholders to join us in the attack?”

“I would love nothing more than to know that this tribe will never trouble us again,” Taryn says, “But I must regretfully refuse. I need the men to stay and look after the freehold, especially with all the damage to repair from the attack. In fact, if you don’t choose to go attack the rat men, we’d be grateful if you could stay and help as well.”

“Taryn,” Miriel asks, “If we go, can we leave Milo with you, under guard?” 

“If you insist,” Taryn says, “I’ll hold him, but I must say I’m not thrilled about it. I don’t think I can guarantee his safety. My people think he’s a traitor. I could send him back to Southport under guard, but he probably won’t survive the trip. If you trust him, you should take him with you. If you don’t trust him, you should hang him.” 

Chuck bites his lip. “I actually believe Milo,” he says worriedly.

“If we can’t leave Milo,” Miriel says, “And we can’t trust him, we must take him to Grilliam.” 

Chuck shakes his head. “I’m worried that there’s a vendetta against me in Southport. I’m not sure I want to go back right now.” 

“Going back to Southport with unfinished business is no good,” Paks says. “I think it’s just a crutch for us. If Chuck trusts Milo, I’m willing to trust him, for now.” 

“I’m not convinced,” Goldpetal says, and he doesn’t look it. “On the one hand,” he says speculatively, “He was helping the rat men, so he deserves to die. On the other hand, he claims that someone cast a spell on him.” 

“Would he have used a healing potion on SySy if he wasn’t under a spell?” Chuck asks. “We have no reason not to trust him.” 

Miriel shakes her head. “We have plenty of reason not to trust him! I’m not comfortable traveling with him, but I also can’t leave him here to be killed outright. Does anyone else have a suggestion?” 

“We could take him with us, tied up,” suggests Paks.

Miriel shakes her head, dismissively. “That’s just like killing him, if we get into a fight.” 

“Push him into some quicksand!” Delonia calls from across the room.

“We know from his past actions that he wouldn’t help SySy,” Paks says.

“No, we don’t,” Miriel says quickly.

“He wanted to kill her!” Paks insists.

Delonia contradicts her. “No, actually, he attacked me when I tried to kill her.” 

Paks comes to an abrupt halt, and appears to reconsider. “Okay, Taryn can keep him here, or dispatch someone with him to Southport.” 

Miriel shakes her head, “But Taryn can’t promise he will not die if we leave him.” 

Taryn says, “I can’t guarantee his safety. I don’t really have the personnel to watch him, either.” 

“I can charm him for three hours,” Delonia says, laughingly.

“I could go either way,” Chuck says. “Take him to Southport, or take him with us, tied up.” 

“We can take him with us,” Paks repeats, “Tied up." 

Goldpetal shakes his head. “It’s not safe,” he says. “He might escape. If we don’t trust him, we should kill him. What’s his incentive to help us out, especially if we demonstrate that we don’t trust him?” 

“Well,” Paks says, “At least we’ll know he’s on their side, if he helps them.”

“That’s a good point,” Miriel says. “Let’s take him, and kill him if he tries anything. We can let him know that this is how he can redeem or reveal himself.” 

“That sounds good to me,” Paks says.

“That’s a mistake!” Delonia cries. “Kill him!” 

Paks turns to her, and speaks with a quiet inner strength. She reminds the sorceress, “We had the same debate over you, Delonia.” Delonia looks taken aback and thoughtful.

Goldpetal reminds us, “We cannot free him until after we leave here.” 

“We should never free him,” Miriel says, “Except when he’s being watched closely.” 

We all agree to this plan. Miriel brings Chuck with her to talk to Milo. 



Miriel and Chuck find Milo sitting on the cot in his cell. Miriel approaches him, while Chuck waits by the door. 

“I don’t think it’s safe for you here,” Miriel tells the halfling. “The freeholders do not like you. Taryn has as much as said that many of them wish you dead, and that he will not protect you from them, should they offer violence against you.”

“But…” Milo begins.

“It would be best if you just shut up,” Chuck says, leaning against the door to Milo’s cell with his arms crossed over his chest.

Miriel explains the plan. “There is a way you may show your true colors. We are going into the swamp in pursuit of the rat men. We hope to catch them at their village, and wipe them out. You can come with us – we’ll be watching you, and if you betray us again, we will kill you.” 

He protests, “You’re just offering me a choice of dying by the freeholders or dying with you, in a suicidal attack on the rat men.”

“No,” she answers levelly. “One option is sure death. They will not forgive you for what you have done. The other at least offers you a chance. Yes, it’s risky, but it gives you a chance.”

“Why not just let me go?” he wheedles. 

“We can’t trust you enough to let you go,” Miriel says. 

Chuck, lounging nonchalantly against the door, offers, “I could just kill him right now.”

Milo ignores the Vigilant, focusing his attention on Miriel. He lays out several possibilities, but in Miriel’s ears he sounds ever more like a con artist looking for the right angle. Her heart is closed to him, and even the thought of Madriel’s mercy does not help her forgive the little man.

“Enough,” Miriel says, exasperated, cutting him off in the middle of an argument. “I’ll let you think on it for the night. Chuck, bring him some food, then tie him to the bed.”

“He’s fine on the floor,” Chuck says cavalierly.

“Chuck,” Miriel says sharply, and though her voice is quiet, her tone brooks no defiance.

“Oh, okay,” Chuck agrees. Miriel sweeps out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. They continue to argue for some hours into the evening, before Chuck finally tires of making no headway. He feeds the halfling, ties him to the bed, and locks the door.

With three guards on watch, Kratys Freehold sleeps.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

An update! That's a welcome sight upon my return to the boards.


----------



## Amaroq

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> An update! That's a welcome sight upon my return to the boards.




Thank you! Its so nice to feel appreciated! I apologize for the sporadicness of the updates lately - we'd hit a rough point where "In the can" still took some serious work after meeting my editor's critical glance (much appreciated, Sarah!)... and I had too much to do both at work and in my personal life. We'll have another week-long siesta in March, as I'll be out of town, but for now - let's plow on into Issue #9. 

What shall we do with Milo?


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #9: Milo's Trial. Episode 1*

6th of October, 2002​
*Issue #9*

*Milo’s Trial*​

_When Stone collapsed, Kratys Freehold was surrounded by a hundred ratmen and the outcome looked bleak indeed. The last thing he remembers is the fight with the dead-eaters and the fire in the barn. Wounded and sick, he fell unconscious after that fight, and did not wake throughout the following day. He was feverish to the touch, and Miriel was unable to find a way to cure him, save to hope that the monk’s natural stamina and half-orc constitution would help him recover._



It is dawn on the third Hedraday of Charder, 150AV.  

Stone wakes up, alone, on a cot in a small room. His fever and sickness have passed. He rises, nude, and stretches. He examines his well-muscled torso. The wounds he remembers have dons his travel-weary outfit: plain tunic, a tartan kilt, and a fine pair of boots. He limbers himself for another minute or two, working the stiffness out of his sore muscles.

He steps out through the door into the central courtyard of the freehold. The early morning sun shines into the courtyard, illuminating everything with a reddish-orange light. He does not see the numerous guards along the wall, but does find a surprising amount of activity. A number of freeholders are bustling around, taking care of farm chores. He stares with bemusement at the flowers and streamers which bedeck the catapult in the center of the courtyard. 

He reaches out a large hand and stops a passerby. “Did we win?”

The freeholder’s big smile answers the question before she finds the words. “Yes, we did!” She bursts into laughter when his stomach growls audibly. “Hungry? Myrs is just about ready to serve breakfast in the kitchen.” 

The half-orc is ravenous, and goes straight there. He finds one of Myrs’ trademark meals in the final stages of preparation. It is a far cry from monastery food, and he eats several helpings. As he dines, alone at a long table, the rest of his companions slowly filter in, after awakening, or finishing their morning devotions.

They are all glad to see him, and he finds himself receiving an excited blow-by-blow description of the battle – which is utterly chaotic and impossible to follow, since blows were struck all over the compound. His companions do describe the overall picture, how the ratmen overran the walls, and that Chuck, Paks, Delonia, and Llewyn were all knocked unconscious and bleeding. From that point, Telryn takes over the narrative, and it becomes easier to follow. The young mage tells him how Myrs’ sleep spells put many of the ratmen to sleep, evening the odds at the crucial moment. After the death of their captain, Xyler Blackfoot, at Taryn’s hands, the ratmen’s morale broke, and many were trapped inside the walls, where we killed them. The few who were still outside the walls broke and ran. 

When Telryn finishes the tale, Stone shakes his head slowly. “I’m sorry to have missed the big fight,” he says.

“I couldn’t heal you,” Miriel says. “You were in a bad way, very sick.”

“Speaking of which,” Chuck says, “I feel pretty ill myself. When I woke up, I was covered in these big, nasty black blistery sores.”

“Let me look,” Miriel says firmly. 

Chuck pulls up his shirt, and Miriel looks at him. Sure enough, he is covered in black blisters larger than a silver piece. Myrs, dining just down the table, comes over to take a look as well. “I recognize those,” she tells Miriel. “They’re called ‘corpse blisters.’ It’s fairly common to contract them while fighting dead-eaters.”

“What can we do about them?”

“I don’t know of any herbal remedies. The times I’ve seen them, a priestess has healed them with a _cure disease_ spell.”

“I have never had that power,” Miriel says, “But I think I may be able to do so, now. I’ll have to go meditate.”

“In the meantime, don’t let anyone touch the blisters – not even you, Chuck. That’s how the disease is spread.”



When breakfast has finished, Goldpetal asks the question which is on everyone’s mind. “What are we to do with Milo?”

“Madriel inspired me during my morning meditation,” Miriel says. “I have learned a new spell, and can create a _zone of truth_ which we can cast on Milo. It will compel him to tell the truth. What do you think about using it on him?”

“That sounds fine,” Chuck answers easily. “It’ll be a lot less trouble than carrying him around, or killing him.”

Although we’ve told Stone the story of the fight, we didn’t really detail Milo’s perfidy, focusing more on our own heroics. “Wait,” he asks, “Why would we want to kill him?”

“He conspired against us,” Chuck answers, blackly.

Stone looks more confused. “Conspired?”

Goldpetal’s mouth is set in firm disapproval. “He set the fire in the barn, then attacked us with the rat men.” 

Stone’s confusion clears, and he nods. “Oh, well, then he should be killed.”

Chuck shakes his head. “It’s not that easy. I think he was under a spell.”

Stone looks back and forth between the elf and the Vigilant. “Oh, well, then he shouldn’t be killed. Let’s go.” 

“Wait, there’s more,” Miriel adds. “Madriel was very good to me this morning in the bath.” We all laugh. “She also inspired me to remember that we have not detected magic on any of the items we’ve found.”

A babble of voices break out, but it sounds like everyone agrees that this is a good idea. Chuck’s suggestion cuts through the rest of the speakers. “Let’s find a room so we can spread out the booty in private.” 

“We can go to my room,” offers Miriel.

Stone asks, “Is there plenty of room for booty in your room?” After another good laugh, we go back to Miriel’s room to detect magic on our recently acquired treasures.



Stone pulls out the two rings we took from Eltron, SySy’s assistant, in the swamp. One is a simple silver ring, while the other is a silver ring with a gold band. He also tosses in a cheap dagger. Chuck has a violet gem, an ornate rat man dagger, a shield, a suit of studded leather armor, a pair of dice, the whip sword, the vials of antitoxin, and two thunderstones. He spreads it all out across a small table. Miriel adds the money that we found.

“Silence, everyone,” Miriel says. When she has quiet to work in, she casts _detect magic_ on the small pile. “Okay,” she says, “The silver is clean, nonmagical. The antitoxins and thunderstones are not magic, but they have extraordinary effect. The silver ring doesn’t show any magic, either.”

“Where’s the good stuff?” asks Chuck.

“The silver ring with the gold band,” she answers. “It glows with magic. The magic is neutral and not that powerful, but it’s clearly permanently spelled. I think it’s an abjuration of some sort.”

“What’s that mean?” asks Stone.

Telryn answers. “Abjurations are protective spells,” he says, in a scholarly lecture tone. “They typically create physical or magical barriers, although some abjurations negate magical or physical abilities or harm trespassers.”

“Oh,” Stone grunts.

“Are any of the weapons magical?” asks Chuck.

Miriel focuses on the whipsword and the mace. “No,” she says.

“Let’s divide everything up,” Paks says. 

Goldpetal shakes his head, and suggests, “I think we should leave some of the gold with the town. There was a lot of damage.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Miriel says. “Let’s talk to Taryn about what a good amount would be.” Everyone agrees, and we start to divide up the remainder of the loot. 

Miriel picks the magical ring up and takes a closer look at it. “There’s some Slytherin writing around the inside,” she says. “Can anyone read it?” Getting nothing but blank looks from everyone, she says, “I’ll take this, and ask Myrs about it.”

Goldpetal takes the vials of antitoxin, Telryn selects the thunderstones. Chuck keeps the rest of the things he had – the gem, the dagger, the shield, the armor, the whipsword, and the pair of dice.

Goldpetal and Paks take the money, saying that they will talk to Taryn about helping pay for the damage.

Before they set out, Miriel says, “I’m going to rest to memorize the zone of truth spell, so that we can talk to Milo and determine his guilt or innocence.”

Paks winces. With a hint of reluctance, she says, “If we’re determining guilt and innocence when we talk to Milo, we should do it as a formal trial, with a prosecution and defense.” Seeing several of us nodding, she asks “Who will be the prosecutor?” 

Goldpetal says, “I can be the prosecutor.”

“Is anyone disposed towards defending Milo?” 

No one speaks. The silence stretches to an unbearable point. Finally, Chuck says, “You know, I could do it, but I don’t see the point in having a whole trial process.” 

Paks sighs. “If we’re deciding life or death, I think we’re a court.”

Stone looks her in the eye, and adds, “I think we’re a lynch mob.” On that somber note, we break while Miriel rests.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #9: Milo's Trial. Episode 2*

Before she meditates, Miriel leaves her room to find Myrs and ask her about the writing on the ring. 

When the young priestess points out the writing on the inside of the band, Myrs examines the ring closely. “That’s weird,” she comments, “It says ‘shield’ in Slytherin.”

“Have you seen magical rings before?” Miriel asks, “And if so, what do you think of it?”

“This might be the activation word,” Myrs tells her in a slow, thoughtful voice, “The word of power by which a magical ring’s powers are invoked. Sometimes it is carved into the ring, so the owner won’t forget it.”

“Wouldn’t we have to say it in Slytherin?”  

“Yes,” Myrs says, “But that’s easy. I can teach you how to say it.” They spend a few minutes with Myrs teaching the pronunciation of the sibilant ratman word. Miriel learns quickly, but when she thinks she may be ready to try it on the ring itself, Myrs warns her, “I should also point out that, in rare cases, someone puts a fake activation word inside a magic ring, as a trap.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t try it just yet,” Miriel concludes. “Thank you for the information, and the warning!” She retires to her room to memorize the truth spell.



Paks and Goldpetal find Taryn outside, supervising more of the repairs. It is mid-morning, and the lord is working just as hard as his people; he wipes sweat from his brow, even though the day has not yet reached the heat of afternoon. “What can I do for you?” he asks, leaning on a shovel. 

“Two things,” Paks says. “We’ve decided to try Milo for the crimes committed; we expect his defense to be not guilty by reason of enchantment. We have a prosecutor, a defense counsel, and jurors – but its your freehold, and your people who were harmed by his actions. We would like to invite you to be the judge.”

“Very well,” Taryn says. “I frequently sit as judge when my people have disputes. When are you having this trial?”

“Miriel is meditating to learn a spell which will compel the halfling to speak the truth,” Paks says. “I think she should be ready by noon, and we would rather not delay.”

“Let us do it immediately after lunch,” Taryn agrees. “What was your other question?”

“We would like to offer your hold some of the silver we found.” 

“You’re not only defending us, but you’re giving us money?”

“No,” Paks says, shaking her head. “This is the loot from the fight.”

“Oh,” Taryn says. “That’s different. In the absence of any other agreement, the standard rule for dividing money from a fight is that everyone gets an equal share of the gold.  There were seven of you, and 24 of us, so we should each get one thirty-first of it.”

“That sounds quite reasonable,” Paks says, “Though I hoped some of it might go towards covering your repairs.”

“I think we’re in good shape,” Taryn says. “How much are we talking about?” 

“Two hundred and fifty silver,” Paks says. “Not much, really.” 

Each of the defenders winds up with eight silver pieces. The shares include one for Delonia, and one for the families of each of the freeholders killed in the defense. Milo does not get a share.



Taryn has set up the largest room off the main hall as the location for Milo’s trial. There is room for about a dozen people, seated, with additional room in the back if any of the freeholders which to stand and watch. The four jurors – Paks, Stone, Telryn, and Miriel – sit at a long table facing the rest of the room. Taryn’s chair sits at the position of prominence in the center of that table. 

In the middle of the room, a single chair sits empty, flanked by two small desks which are angled to face both it and the jurors. Each desk has a single chair: Chuck sits at one; while Goldpetal goes to the other. Behind them, there are another six chairs, occupied by other townsfolk. Myrs, Delonia, and Llewyn are all present in the audience; a few more people stand at the back.

Stone stands and says, “Today is Hedraday, Hedrada’s Day. That is a good omen for a judgment.” He bows his head in silent prayer for a moment, and sits back down.

“This court is now in session,” Taryn says. His voice seems to have grown stronger with the gravity of the situation, and echoes in the small chamber with the weight of authority. “Bring in the prisoner.”

Milo is brought in by two of the freeholders. One of them is Garth, the grizzled guard who Milo tricked into abandoning his post when Milo went to free SySy. Garth is grim-faced, and not overly gentle with the bound halfling. He pushes the little man into the chair in the center of the room.

Paks begins the proceedings by explaining the plan to Milo. She stands, and says, “We’ve discovered a spell,” she says, “Which will compel the truth from every person in the room. Under the laws of this town, you’ve committed a capital crime, and we’re going to hold a trial for you.” 

“But I didn’t do anything!” Milo protests.

“That’s what the trial is for,” Paks says, “To determine your guilt or innocence. Goldpetal will be the prosecution, and Chuck here will be your defense.” 

“Can I say something?”

“Let me finish,” Paks says firmly.

Chuck, sitting next to Milo, whispers to him, “I advise you not to speak.” 

“The rest of us,” Paks says, gesturing to include Taryn, Telryn, Miriel, Stone, and herself, “Will be the jury.” 

Stone waves. “Hi, Milo.” 

“Hi! Are you feeling better?” the halfling asks him, with apparent sincerity. 

“Yes,” Stone assures him, “Thanks.” 

Paks interrupts this aside to finish her explanation. “If you are judged innocent,” she says, “You can stay with us, and come to the swamp freely. If you are found guilty, you may be put to death.”

Milo shudders, and immediately begins to question the process. “It hardly seems fair,” he says, “That you all may keep your secrets from me, while I get to keep no secrets.”

Paks considers this for a moment, and a brief scowl crosses her normally pleasant face. “I must agree,” she admits. “Miriel? Goldpetal? May I speak with you for a moment?”

The three of them step aside to confer, briefly. Their conference is short, and when she returns to her place, Paks announces, “We will cast the spell on you three times. In return, Miriel will cast the spell on each of the three of us, once – you can ask each one of us one question while we are under the spell.”

Milo nods, and adds, “I’d like you to repeat that plan under the effects of the spell. At this point, I have no reason to trust anything you say.”

“I can do that,” Paks says. She sits back down.

“Let us begin,” says Miriel. She bows her head. “Madriel, may you cast your blessing on the work that is done here. Let us not be lead into evil choices; let the truth be known.” She casts the _zone of truth_.

Paks explains the plan again, under the spell. She is concise, and her story is precisely the same as it was before the spell was cast. 

“May I ask my questions in private or public?” asks Milo.

“It’s your choice,” Paks tells him. “Goldpetal, please begin.”

“What is your name?” asks Goldpetal.

“Milo,” the halfling answers.

“Did you go into the orchard three times on the night of the siege?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Were you captured the second time you went out there?”

“Yes. I was spotted before I could kill any of them. They pursued me for hours, and finally they caught me. They interrogated me, and beat me up. I don’t remember everything about that time. Finally, they freed me, instructing me to set fire to the barn. I snuck back into the freehold.”

“Nobody saw you. How did you get back inside?”

“Most of the guards were at the south end, near the tower and the gates. I climbed over the wall to the north. If the ratmen had attacked from that side, you guys would have had a lot more trouble!” 

“When you were inside, did you set fire to the barn?”

“I remember it only vaguely, as though in a dream. I snuck into the barn, and spread grease around. I lit a small fire in the corner, and snuck out past the people working on the catapult. It was really dark, and they…”

“Did you then help SySy to escape?” the elf cuts him off.

“Yes, I did, but because she cast a spell on me. She cast this spell, and then made me run away and help her escape detection.”

“How did you get to her?”

“I found him,” he points to Garth, “Guarding the witch, and I told him that he was needed at the fire. Then I unbound her. As soon as I took the gag off of her, I found myself compelled to follow her orders.”

“How did you get outside?”

“We slipped out through the main gate. It was easy; everyone was preoccupied with the fire. After we escaped, we went to the ratman camp.”

“When you were in the ratman camp, did they cast a spell on you?”

“Which time?”

“The first time.”

“I think so. I’m not sure.”

“Did you see them cast a spell on you?”

“No, but I was blindfolded. I couldn’t see.”

“Did you feel anything strange?”

“I felt friendly towards them, which is odd, since I had gone into the orchard trying to kill them.”

Telryn whispers in Paks’ ear, “_Charm person_.”

Goldpetal’s questioning continues. “And they told you to set fire to the barn?”

“Yes, and so when I got inside the walls…”

“Stop! We know. Did a spell make you free SySy?”

“No, the spell didn’t make me do it! The shaman did, after I was put under the spell. He told me to…”

“So, when you took the gag off of SySy’s mouth, you were under the influence of a spell?”

“Yes, at least I think I was, I don’t know how long the spell would last…”

Miriel interrupts the proceedings. “He is clearly trying to waste the time of my spell,” she says angrily. “Which has expired; you should continue your questioning after I cast the next one.”



There is a brief break between the spells. The jurors, prosecution, and defense adjourn to a small chamber next to the courtroom. Paks looks around, and suggests, “In the second invocation of the spell, I’d like the defense to ask more questions.”

“I’m satisfied so far,” Chuck says.

Telryn adds, “His description of ‘feeling friendly’ towards the shaman and the captain sounds like the effects of the spell charm person.”

“Goldpetal, you should ask the same questions again,” advises Miriel, “Since Milo might have resisted the spell the first time.”

Taryn adds, “You should also ask him when he felt like himself again, after the charm person spell.”



When everyone regroups in the courtroom, Taryn bangs a small gavel against the table. “We are now in session. Miriel?”

Miriel again casts her spell, invoking Madriel to create the _zone of truth_ a second time. 

Goldpetal continues the questioning, again beginning with direct questions. “When you were captured by the ratmen, did they cast a spell on you?”

“Yes, I already told you, they cast a spell on me, and they made me do things.”

“This spell made you free SySy?”

“Yes, because the shaman told me to.”

“Where did you come from?”

“From the orchard.”

“No, I mean, before we saw you in Southport. Where were you born?”

“Where was I born? I don’t see how that’s relevant! How does my place of birth…”

“Are you part of any organizations?”

“Part of any organizations? That’s hardly relevant, either. You didn’t say you were going to ask questions about my background!”

Miriel interrupts. “You’re wasting time. Stop wasting my magic!”

Goldpetal directs him, “Don’t repeat the question, or repeat your previous answers.”

“But you ask me the same questions…” Milo begins complaining, but Goldpetal cuts him off.

“You said that SySy cast a spell on you after you took off her gag, and that the shaman cast a spell on you. Were you under the influence of two spells at the same time?”

“I cannot answer that question given your prior requests.”

“Why not?” asks Goldpetal, clearly taken aback.

“In order to answer that question, I’d have to repeat something I said earlier, and I was explicitly asked not to repeat myself.”

“This is a different question.”

“Nonetheless, to answer it would require that I repeat something I have already said.”

“Never mind. When did you feel like yourself again?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You said you felt friendly towards the ratmen, that it felt like things happened in a dream, and that SySy cast a spell on you. When did you feel like yourself again?”

“When you guys woke me up the following morning.”

“The spell has worn off,” Miriel interjects.



After time runs out, Milo requests a private conference with Chuck for his defense, and everyone leaves the room to give them privacy, save the two guards. 

The jurors and Goldpetal discuss final questioning, in the hall, but cannot come up with better questions than Goldpetal has been asking. Chuck calls them back into the courtroom before anyone has hit upon a good plan.

When everyone has seated themselves, Milo asks, “How much longer will this be?”

Miriel tells him, “We already told you how long it would be. 

“I’m thirsty. Can I have food and water?”

“You’ve had breakfast, and you’ll get dinner after the trial.”

“We’re ready to begin,” interjects Paks.

“Okay,” Milo says, “But you can’t ask questions about my past.”

Miriel cuts him off. “You can’t have conditions,” she says, “As we do not have conditions on the questions you can ask us, and you did not ask for them when we all originally discussed the plan.”

“May I cross-examine myself?”

“No,” Miriel says firmly, without consulting the other jurors. “I am going to cast the spell.”

As she prepares herself, Goldpetal tells Milo, “I am going to ask you yes or no questions. Please answer with yes or no – only yes, or no.”

“But yes/no answers can’t fully answer the questions,” Milo complains, while Miriel casts the _zone of truth_ for the final time.

“The spell is finished,” Miriel says. “Begin.”

Goldpetal asks questions immediately. “The shaman cast a spell on you, while you were captured.”

“Yes, I think so.”

“The shaman ordered you to set the fire in the barn.”

“Yes. He said it was a diversion, to distract you with.”

“Did you know that the dead-eaters would attack us?”

“Dead-eaters? What are dead-eaters?”

“Never mind. Did you know that the shaman had an attack planned to coincide with your fire?”

“Isn’t that what ‘a diversion’ means?”

“Yes or no answers, please. Did he order you to lie to Garth?”

“No, but he told me to untie SySy, and Garth was in the way.”

“So you lied to him.”

“Yes! It was better than attacking him, wasn’t it?”

“Did you think of freeing SySy?” 

“Yes, once she cast the spell on me.”

“Did you mean to help SySy?”

“Yes, but only because of the spell.”

“Where was SySy during the attack?”

“I don’t know,” Milo says. He is sweating and looks extremely nervous. “She said that this was not her fight, and refused to help the shaman and the captain, and she left. I wanted to go with her, but she ordered me to stay.”

“And you helped the ratman directly attack the freehold.”

“I did not choose to help the ratmen attack the freehold! I was under SySy’s spell, and if I had not been under her spell I would not have attacked the freehold or helped the ratmen attack the freehold.”

“Did she explicitly ask you to attack the freehold?”

Before Milo can answer, Miriel says, “The spell has expired.”

“Do either of you have anything else to add?” asks Taryn.

“I would say only that I think the testimony has shown that Milo was under the influence of several spells,” Chuck says, “And cannot be held accountable for his actions.”

After a brief silence, Taryn bangs his gavel. “This court is adjourned. Garth, please return the prisoner to his cell.”

Miriel dismissively suggests, “Chuck, why don’t you feed and water Milo while we’re discussing the case.” 

The courtroom begins to empty, as all of the watchers, plus the guards, Milo, and Chuck and Goldpetal as well, file solemnly out through the doors.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Time for some expert witnesses about the duration of charm spells and the difference between charms and compulsions. The halfling couldn't have been forced to do all that with a simple charm person spell--not unless he was at least open to the possibilities to begin with.

Hold on Goldpetal, I'll get the rope.


----------



## Broccli_Head

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Time for some expert witnesses about the duration of charm spells and the difference between charms and compulsions. The halfling couldn't have been forced to do all that with a simple charm person spell--not unless he was at least open to the possibilities to begin with.
> 
> Hold on Goldpetal, I'll get the rope.




Good point! He would treat the ratmen as his friends but wouldn't screw his other friends unless he really wanted to screw them to begin with.  He wouldn't have been a true _dominated_ meat-puppet.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #9: Milo's Trial. Episode 3*

The courtroom slowly empties until only the five jurors remain. 

Miriel speaks first. She was clearly angered during the trial, but she has leashed her temper, and now her words are measured and rationed. “I don’t trust Milo at all,” she starts, “But I’m not completely sure he's guilty and deserving of death. I am completely sure we can’t trust him to travel with us. He made every effort not to be honest with us.” 

Stone nods. “I think Madriel has shown that it wasn’t his own free will, but I still don’t trust him, and I don’t think we should take him with us. I don’t think we should kill him yet... I mean right now... I mean...” 

“I have the same feelings,” Telryn concurs. “I conclude that he was innocent of the crime, but if this trial was based on personality, he’s quite a bastard, and I don’t know why you would want him guarding your back.” 

Taryn nods in agreement with the others. “I have to agree with what Stone says. From the results of the interrogation, he didn’t attack the stronghold of his own free will, but he was definitely dissembling, and I don’t know why. It was very difficult to get real answers out of him.” 

Telryn says, “Halfling are like that.” 

Taryn shrugs. “That may be true, but he was extremely evasive even by halfling standards. I don’t like him much either,” he says. “I can see why you don’t want to have him with you. However, in my years of campaigning, I have found that having rogues and halflings with you is often valuable, and it might be useful to have him with you in the swamp. On the other hand, you might also wake up with a dagger in your back.” 

Paks looks around to each of the others. “On the basis of what we have heard here, and the assumption that he was indeed under the truth spell, he is innocent. However, I have been able to resist the spell all three times, so I’m not sure that he was affected.” 

“Yes,” Miriel says, “I’m afraid it’s relatively easy to resist that spell.  I’m not that strong yet – but I don’t think he is, either.” 

Paks looks thoughtful for a moment, and then adds, “When we were in Southport, he told me a story. Now, I’m bound not to repeat it, but if that story is true, then I have more reason to trust him than any of you.”

Silence meets her words. As it grows to an unbearable length, Telryn speaks. “Well, the worst case is that he kills all of us. The best case is that he’s trustworthy and helps us. It seems simple to me.” 

Stone “Hedrada has said it’s better to have an enemy under your sword than.... I forget the second part... but I think it has something to do with what we’re talking about.” 

Paks looks at Miriel. “So it’s four to one for innocent? Miriel?” 

“No, I don’t say he’s guilty,” Miriel says judiciously. “I just don’t trust him. I think he’s probably innocent.”

“Why don’t you trust Milo?” Telryn asks.

“You mean besides this?” she asks, with a chuckle. “Let me explain.” She tells him at some length the history of Milo’s association with the company. “Originally, several of us saw Milo hanging around Southport – we were staying there, at the Laughing Ogre. We saw him often enough that we began to suspect he was following us. Finally, Chuck accosted him, but he refused to answer any questions. 

“When we left Southport, we though we’d left him behind. We were breaking up this smuggling ring, and they’d been operating through a ruined tower many miles south of the town. Well, after our fight – and it was inconclusive, though we captured Delonia…”

“Delonia?” Telryn asks. “But she’s…”

“She’s with us, now, yes. Paks somehow convinced all of us to find forgiveness for her, and how she talked Grilliam – he’s the high priest of Hedrada, at Southport – into agreeing to let Delonia go, I’ll never know. Anyways, since then, she’s served with us, and been quite a help.

“When we captured Delonia, Chuck also caught the halfling, hiding in the shadows and following us. He swore he was ‘sent by Madriel to serve me and protect me,’ though none in my church have ever heard of him. He refused to explain himself. I’m not sure why we kept him with us, after that.”

“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” Taryn grunts.

“He hadn’t done anything to us,” Miriel concludes. “And he didn’t look particularly threatening.”

“He still doesn’t,” Stone avows, drawing laughter from the other four.

“He did once, though,” Miriel says. “We ventured off into the swamp to capture SySy, the ratman end of the smuggling chain. We captured her, and took her back to the tower, where we were debating whether to interrogate her, take her to Grilliam, or kill her. Delonia suggested killing her, and it looked like she was going over to put her plan into action. He attacked her! She was wounded, but Stone restrained him, and then we learned of the plot to attack here.”

“So, he protected her once, and then set her free,” Telryn says. “Maybe it wasn’t just the effect of the spell.”

“We can’t know that,” Paks says. “It seems clear he was under the influence of a number of spells, and its impossible to tell know what they were.”   

“Okay,” Stone says. “So, do we take him with us, or leave him hamstrung by the side of the road?” 

“Well, we certainly can’t release him,” Miriel says.

“If we think he is innocent,” Paks says, “That’s all we need to decide alone.” 
The remaining jurors nod. Paks looks around to ensure that she has unanimous agreement, and gives a decisive nod of her own. “Let’s invite the others back in, then.”



Telryn slips out, and invites Goldpetal and Chuck to join the jurors. 

Paks formally gives the verdict. “We’ve unanimously decided that Milo was innocent of the attack on the freehold.” 

“However,” Miriel adds, “We’ve also decided that we really can’t trust him. It was clear that he was evading the questions, and I don’t want him traveling with us.”

Paks furrows her brow. “But if the story he told me in Southport was true, I have a great deal of reason to trust him.” 

“If his story to me was true,” Miriel counters, “Then I’m not sure he’s behaved consistently with me.” 

Paks thinks back over Milo’s behavior, and declares, “His behavior has been consistent with the story to me.” 

“Well, I can’t say for sure one way or another,” Miriel admits, “But he’s given me quite a bit of reason to doubt him.” 

Chuck speaks up. “If we’re expelling him because we can’t trust him, and he can hide without us finding him, what assurance do we have that he won’t catch us?” 

“I’ll ride with him far to the north, and drop him,” Paks says.

Stone suggests, “Leave him tied up with a dagger some distance away. Or cut his hamstrings.” 

“Are we unanimously agreed to expel him from our company?” Paks asks. Nobody speaks on Milo’s behalf. Stone and Goldpetal are nodding. 

Miriel asks Taryn, who has been silent through this part of the discussion, “Will Milo be safe, if we give him the run of the freehold?”

Taryn shakes his head. “I don’t think he will be. One of you should stay with him, for his own protection.”

“I will,” Paks says. With that, the court is adjourned.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

“Chuck, why don’t you feed and water Milo while we’re discussing the case.” 

This would be amusing if not for the seriousness of the situation.  I've added your story hour to my favorites list, keep up the good work.


----------



## Broccli_Head

So was this a case of another troublesome player? Milo doesn't seem very group friendly


----------



## Amaroq

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> “Chuck, why don’t you feed and water Milo while we’re discussing the case.”
> 
> This would be amusing if not for the seriousness of the situation.




I can't speak for the player, but she was quite annoyed with him!



> I've added your story hour to my favorites list, keep up the good work.




Thank you - and welcome aboard!


----------



## Amaroq

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> So was this a case of another troublesome player? Milo doesn't seem very group friendly




Milo was actually the same player as had earlier been Fergus. I know he's been reading but not posting - as we reach the denoument, here, perhaps he'd be willing to grace the group with a post or two?

I wouldn't characterize the player as "trouble" - he's a close friend of mine. But I think the trouble stemmed from a desire to play a distinct, strong neutral character who found himself allied with a "good" group; in places where "its the right thing to do" swayed the rest of the party, his characters had their own agendas, goals, and desires. This would have been more trouble later in the campaign, where "its the gods' will" became a common theme.

"Milo", if you'd like to address the character concept behind each, feel free!


----------



## Fulcan

Amaroq said:
			
		

> I can't speak for the player, but she was quite annoyed with him!
> Thank you - and welcome aboard!




Milo's player is a great role player and really gets into his characters.  Unfortunately, it usually comes down the fact that the characters don't really work will with the group.  It's a good thing we love the player so much *grin*.

Regarding the point brought about the charm person, It's been so long since this all went down that I forget exactly how we determined that he was under the influence of a spell.  I just remember that circumstances were such that we really couldn't prove that he wasn't influenced.  I guess we are all just too used to the innocent till proven guilty thing.


----------



## Amaroq

Paks goes to Milo’s cell, where she finds the halfling sitting on the edge of his bunk. “You have been found innocent,” she says, and kneels on one knee to begin unbinding him. “However, most of the group were concerned about the difficulty in getting forthright answers from you, and we have decided that you are expelled from our company. Taryn says that you must leave the freehold. He also warns that some of the townspeople may not accept that justice has been done, with this verdict, and he will not guarantee your safety.” She is done unbinding him, and he stands, rubbing his wrists to bring circulation back to them. “If you like, I can keep you company,” she offers.

“I think you are perhaps the only person here whom I would trust to do so,” Milo answers.

They walk out into the afternoon sun, and can be seen over the next hour or two wandering around the compound, and the surrounding orchard, immersed in a long conversation.

The rest of the group have dispersed to pass the afternoon in their own ways. Miriel, exhausted by a day of spell-casting, is upstairs napping. Chuck fatigues quickly, due to the Corpse Blisters and his recent wounds, and retires to sleep for the remainder of the afternoon.

Taryn asks for help rebuilding the town, and Stone agrees to go with him to help. A group of freeholders are working on repairing the burnt barn, while others are filling in the trenches which they had dug outside the gates. Others are un-barricading the windows of the main hall.



Goldpetal and Telryn go to look for Myrs, and find her outside the barn, helping direct the repairs. With a number of people working on repairing the fire damage, the animals have been displaced, but are outside of the compound walls, grazing.

“Has anyone ever seen lights or activity up at the standing stones?” Goldpetal asks, gesturing towards the ruins on the hill, which are visible in the distance from the freehold walls.

“Funny you should ask that,” Myrs answers. “About four months ago, there was some activity up there, but most of the men were out on a hunting expedition, so we didn’t send anyone to check it out.”

“Do you have any idea who it was?” the elf inquires. 

“No.” Myrs face is questioning, and she looks almost disturbed. “Who would go up there at night?” 

“Do you go up there at all?”

“No,” the lady of the freehold says. “That place feels full of an ancient evil. We warn our children not to go up there.” 

“That’s probably best,” the elf agrees. “Do you get a sense that it’s haunted?”

“Haunted? I don’t know about ‘haunted’. You’ve felt the magic there, right? It’s falling down, but there’s certainly great power there.” 

“Do you know how old it is?” 

“Who can tell? It’s certainly older than the Titan’s war.”

“Thank you,” Goldpetal says, in conclusion. “Here, I’m going to help work on the barn.”

Myrs, too, looks ready to resume work, but Telryn interrupts her. “Before you get back to that,” the mage says, “Would you be willing to teach me any of the spells you worked upon the ratmen?”

“Yes, there may be a few things you can learn,” she says, with a motherly smile. “Come to my study.” The youthful mage spends the remainder of the afternoon reading.

When Paks and Milo come back from their private conversation, Paks goes to Chuck’s room. She finds him looking increasingly worse. The Corpse Blisters are spreading, and she knows that none of us know how to cure the disease. Miriel is asleep, and Paks isn’t sure that he will survive without assistance. She tends to him as best as she can. Finally, she prays to Madriel. “Merciful Madriel, please aid this man. Surely you cannot wish him ill.”



Once Miriel is awake, she goes to find Milo. He is sitting with Paks, Stone, Telryn, Delonia, and Goldpetal in the main hall. They appear to have just finished a mid-afternoon snack.

“Milo,” she says, as she walks into the hall. “I am rested. You can start your questioning of the party with her.”

“Good. I would like a private room,” he says. They go to the small cell which Milo has spent so much time in recently, and the door is closed behind them.

Less than a minute later, they storm back into the hall. A towering fury is etched across the red-haired priestess’ fine features, and the halfling, three steps behind her, yells, “You didn’t cast the spell!”

In a tight-lipped rage, without even looking at the halfling, she tells the company, “Milo has chose not to ask the questions.”

“It’s not like that!” Milo whines. “You didn’t cast the spell!”

“You saw me cast the spell,” she says.

“I don’t trust you! I saw you wave your hands and mumble some words, but the first thing I said was ‘My name is Zeke’. My name isn’t ‘Zeke’, it’s Milo!”

“Then you resisted the spell,” she says. 

“Maybe you didn’t cast it!”

“I tell you, I did.”

“How can I tell?”

“You just have to trust me.”

“I was guaranteed truthful answers,” he insists.

“That is not true,” she says. “All you were guaranteed was my magic, which you have chosen not to use.”

Stone speaks, the first of the rest of the company to try to stem the tide. “I swear by Hedrada that I’ll tell the truth.”

Milo turns his attention to the half-orc. “I don’t know that you’re really an exemplar of Hedrada!”

“Neither do I,” the half-orc says philosophically. “I’ve been told I am.”

“Look,” Telryn says, “Would it help if I gave you a lecture on the way spells work?”

“Yes,” Milo accepts.

No more than a minute after Telryn begins to speak, the halfling tries to debate with him. Miriel points out, “You accepted a lecture, not a debate.” Surprisingly, this buys Milo’s silence for a long time.

Telryn lectures Milo for an hour while Miriel leaves to go work some more healing. The rest of us are all extremely impressed with Telryn’s scholarship, as well as his ability to talk on and on. He gives a solid foundation in the theory of spell-casting, outlines the difference between arcane magic and divine, and outlines how the _zone of truth_ spell works, as well as what its limitations are – as Milo has discovered, it only compels that the speaker tell the truth, not that they answer any questions! 

Before Telryn finishes his lecture, Miriel returns. She pulls Paks aside, and whispers to her. “I have healed myself and Chuck – we were both still wounded from the battle. I don’t have the power to cast _cure disease_ yet, so Chuck is still suffering from the Corpse Blisters, but he appears to be improving.”

“Good,” Paks responds. “I looked in on him while you were sleeping, and I was very worried.”

When Telryn finishes his lecture, Milo says, “Thank you for the explanation. I still don’t trust the spell, or Miriel, for that matter. I suppose I might as well get ready to go. Paks, will you accompany me while I pack some provisions?” They leave together. 



Stone, Miriel, Telryn, Delonia, and Goldpetal are left in the main hall. “I want to leave right away,” Stone says. He is referring to the idea of pursuing the ratmen into the swamp, which we delayed for a day to hold Milo’s trial.

“No,” Miriel says. “We should leave in the morning. I need to rest, and Chuck needs some time to heal. But, I understand that the ale here is excellent!”

“Okay,” Stone says. “I’ll help drink the ale, and repair the freehold.”

“I’m going to go upstairs and rest again,” Miriel says.  

That leaves only Delonia, Telryn, and Goldpetal in the hall. Delonia looks up at Telryn. “Would you like to compare spells? Perhaps we could each learn something.”

Telryn lights up at the chance to study a higher-level mage’s spells. “Would I ever?” he asks.

Goldpetal shakes his head, with a perplexed look. “I don’t understand this studying thing. Spells are gifts of the gods!” 

Telryn breaks into a big smile. “Don’t I know that!” he exclaims. “I’ve heard so many lectures on that subject! The man who looked after my sister and I was a high cleric of Hedrada, a very wonderful man, but I’m glad not to be part of his household any longer. I chafed under his restrictions.” 

Goldpetal gives him a piercing look. “The order that Hedrada attempts to impose is as unnatural and harmful to the world as the evil perpetrated by the Titans.”

Telryn winces. “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” he says.

“I would,” Delonia says. “But let’s look at those spells.”



While the others rest or study, Stone helps finish the repairs to the damaged barn during the rest of the afternoon light. The freeholders are quite amused by the half-orc’s capacity for ale, as well as his trick of driving nails with his forehead. They become very friendly with him, no longer distrusting him for his orcish ancestry. 

“So,” one of the freeholders asks him, “If you pound the nails with your head, do you saw the wood with your teeth?” 

Stone bears his sharp canids in a wolfish grin. “Occasionally.” 

The freeholder shudders, and says, “I’m glad we live south near the rat men, not north near the orcs!” 

So it is that Stone, working on the main walls, is the only one who notices when Paks rides Star out the back gate. She carries Milo perched on the saddle in front of her. 

It does not take long for the news to spread, however: a watchman informs Taryn in the hearing of Delonia and Telryn, adding that they rode north. Taryn just nods, and says, “That makes a certain amount of sense.”

Rumors spread throughout the compound, but Stone says to wait for Paks to return.


----------



## joshwitz

Fulcan said:
			
		

> Milo's player is a great role player and really gets into his characters.  Unfortunately, it usually comes down the fact that the characters don't really work will with the group.  It's a good thing we love the player so much *grin*.




Out of all of Jared's characters, I liked Milo the best.  I was bummed when you guys kicked him out.  I'm glad you kept him alive, however.  I haven't forgotten that he's kicking around somewhere, btw.  ;-)

Jared is also a master at finding interesting rule combinations.  (He is a devestating board-gamer.)  Even though Milo was low-level, he was relatively powerful due to some creative min/maxing.  He would have been very useful if you could have found a way to keep him on your side.



			
				Fulcan said:
			
		

> Regarding the point brought about the charm person, It's been so long since this all went down that I forget exactly how we determined that he was under the influence of a spell.  I just remember that circumstances were such that we really couldn't prove that he wasn't influenced.  I guess we are all just too used to the innocent till proven guilty thing.




I totally remember what happened, but I'm not sure if I'm at liberty to say yet.  I'll leave it up to Jared to tell his side of the story.

I will say that I kept a close eye on him, and made sure that he was telling the truth when he failed to resist the Zone of Truth spell.  He also did a great job of confusing the issue and stalling until the spell ran out.  By the end, it wasn't clear what really happened, or what (if anything) Milo was responsible for.  (Jared would make a fantastic lawyer.)

All of which was completely in character, but which did not endear Milo to the party.  I remember that one of the ideas of the trial was as way to keep Milo around.  Certain players/characters were rooting for him at the beginning, but by the end his dissembling alientated all the characters and some of the players.  (I recall one or two people being pretty mad.)

Enter Novalia...


----------



## Fulcan

joshwitz said:
			
		

> Even though Milo was low-level, he was relatively powerful due to some creative min/maxing.  He would have been very useful if you could have found a way to keep him on your side.




I would still love to have a rogue in our company.  They are immensely usefull for finding the traps and such that are always in Telryns way.  But that's a story for a later hour.

Paks never did let the rest of the group know what she did with Milo.  We're all still wondering.

Thanks, as always Amaroq.  These are so much fun to read.


----------



## joshwitz

Did Telryn even get a vote at the trial?  He wasn't quite an official member fo the party yet.  And I guess if he knew what was in store for you guys in the swamp, he never would have joined either!!


----------



## Fulcan

joshwitz said:
			
		

> Did Telryn even get a vote at the trial?  He wasn't quite an official member fo the party yet.  And I guess if he knew what was in store for you guys in the swamp, he never would have joined either!!




That's for sure!  Actually that's not true, because it was the experience with a certain group that lived in the tribe that sold him on the adventuring life, in my mind.

Telryn did sit on the jury for Milo, but I'm not sure why either.  Maybe because of his scholarly demeanor *shrug*.

Next you'll here Telryn say "I hate the <blank>"


----------



## Amaroq

Fulcan said:
			
		

> Telryn did sit on the jury for Milo, but I'm not sure why either.  Maybe because of his scholarly demeanor *shrug*.




Impartiality, actually - Telryn didn't know Milo from before, and wasn't influenced by prior knowledge. Same reason we couldn't have Delonia sit on the jury, actually.



			
				Fulcan said:
			
		

> Next you'll hear Telryn say "I hate the <blank>"




Why, that's the title of the next issue!


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #9: Milo's Trial: Episode 4*

By sunset, about two hours after Paks left, the complex is nearly whole and sound. The barn still looks a little worse for wear – scorch marks are visible in some places – but the repairs are complete. Most of the group is inside, but Stone and Delonia are keeping watch for Paks’ return.

The guard, up at the watchtower, is the first to spot her, and calls down to them, “Here she comes. One rider, alone.” 

Within a few minutes, Paks is riding up to the rear gate. She sits astride Star, the magnificent black horse which used to belong to Jim, as though she belongs in the saddle. She doesn’t look weary at all. Stone and Delonia meet her at the gate.

Delonia shakes her head. “I know you guys had a trial and all, but I can’t believe you just let him go like that. It’s going to be trouble.” 

Stone asks, “Where’d you let him go?” 

“North,” she says, “A decent ride from here.” 

“You don’t remember?” the half-orc persists. 

Paks shakes her head. “Just in some rough country,” she says evasively.

“Did you take his hamstrings?” Stone asks eagerly. 

“No,” Paks says with a smile. “But I took some other things – do you want some darts?” She pulls out all of Milo’s weapons, and offers them to Stone.



Everyone meets in the dining hall for the evening meal, which is a friendly, informal affair. The children are noisy and playful, and the dogs lie under the long tables, patiently waiting for a scrap to fall. Stone, Delonia, and Brand drink heavily, in continued celebration of the previous day’s victory.

Miriel seems much happier, as though a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She gets a private smile when she notices that Llewyn is looking at Chuck with tender concern. He awoke just before Paks returned, and has come downstairs for the evening meal. He looks pale and unwell, and barely plays with his food.

Paks and Goldpetal are both quiet and somber. They both seem to have a lot to think about, and Goldpetal begs his leave, to go for a walk outside of the compound walls after he has finished his meal.  Paks remains, but shakes her head when Stone offers her a beer, and says little.

Telryn has hit it off quite well with Myrs, and they talk of many things. She outlines the region for him, in enough detail that he knows where we are, and could probably work his way back to Molistown on his own.

When the evening meal has finished, and the children and townsfolk have left, Taryn thanks us again for our help.  “If you guys are going to set out after the rat men, I’d advise that you do it soon,” he says.

“We’re setting out tomorrow,” Miriel tells him.

He nods in satisfaction.

“We’ll have to leave the cart,” Paks tells him, “It won’t avail us in a swamp. Would it be useful to your folk?”

“Yes, I think we could make good use of it,” he says. “Thank you.”

“We’ll also need to leave the horses,” she says. “Would your family be willing to look after them?”

“We’d be happy to.”

Though Stone and Delonia remain awake well into the evening, the rest of the group retires early, planning to make an early start the next day.



We wake at dawn the next morning, packing, and readying ourselves to leave the compound.  

Chuck, who had been ill with the Corpse Blisters, is feeling much better, but still has numerous black blisters on his back and stomach. He is also still not fully recovered from his wounds at the hands of Xyler Blackfoot during the siege. Paks and Miriel both minister to him, together and they offer a shared prayer to Madriel. Miraculously, the blisters shrivel up and fall off, and by the time they are through, he feels completely cured, and his wounds are finally healed. 

We share a quick morning meal, where we discover that Goldpetal has not returned. Before we can worry about it, Taryn says that the druid awaits us out of doors, in the orchard.

We gather in the courtyard, and most of the freeholders come out to see us off.  Some give us food, fairly split between fresh bread and cheese for the first days of our journey, and harder, dried foods, perhaps a week’s worth of rations each, all told.

As everyone is saying goodbye, Delonia says, “It’s been nice traveling with you, but this is where our paths part. Good luck. May Enkili shine his light on you! I feel we may meet again, but I hope not!”

She turns to Paks, and adds, “I give special thanks to you, Paks. You’ve been nothing but fair to me, more fair than perhaps I deserved.” 

“You are welcome,” Paks smiles at her. “The blessing of Madriel on you, and many thanks for all your help.” 

Delonia smiles her brightest smile. “Just don’t mention me to Grilliam.” 

Paks laughs. “Of course not,” she promises.

While the others are paying attention to Delonia, and saying their farewells, Llewyn aprroaches Chuck, carrying a large, 10-foot wooden pole. “Chuck,” she says, “You’re incompetent, but I don’t want you to die.” 

Chuck blushes. “Thanks,” he says, “I’m used to hearing that.” 

She gives him the pole. “This should be quite useful to you, in the swamps,” she says.

“Thank you,” is all he can reply.

“I can carry that, if you want,” Stone says. He takes the pole, leaving Chuck’s hands free, but the youthful Vigilant feels awkward in front of the rest of the group, and offers Llewyn no more than clasping hands together, for a brief moment.  

As we pass through the main gates, Taryn calls to us, “You will always be welcome here. You will always find a place to stay, to rest or to train. Anything we can give, is yours.” 

“We’ll be back soon,” Chuck responds.

“Yes, but not just soon,” Taryn says. “Anytime you need us, you can come to us.” 

We leave Kratys Freehold, to warm farewells called from the walls and waves from the grateful freeholders.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #9: Milos's Trial. Episode 5 of 5*

It is Wildday, the 21st day of Charder, shortly after dawn. We meet up with Goldpetal in the orchard to the south of the freehold. The tracks of the hundred-ratman army are plain for all of us to see, and even Miriel or Telryn could follow them easily.

Chuck and Goldpetal take the lead as we travel south. Chuck keeps an eye out for signs that anyone ran off the main path, or anything else unusual. On the south side of the orchards, he spots their campsite, with the ruins of their catapult. Goldpetal sends the hawks ahead of us, to watch for ambush.

It’s a bright, clear day, and the morning is still cool enough that walking is pleasant. We can hear birds singing all around us, and even Paks and Goldpetal seem to be in good spirits.

About a mile south of the freehold, Chuck stops us. “Look here,” he says, pointing at a particularly beaten-down point on the main trail. The jumbled tracks are meaningful only to Goldpetal and himself. “Several groups of tracks enter the trail from points north,” he explains. “It looks as though a couple of bands of ratmen regrouped here, and fled south.”

“How many?” asks Paks.

“It’s hard to get an accurate count,” he answers, “The majority of tracks lead north, towards the attack, but it seems that the survivors of the rout fled down the same path they came up.” He begins walking again, and the rest of us fall into a ragged line behind him.

By mid-day, it has turned into a hot day. We’re in the middle of a heat wave, and it still hasn’t rained. We can tell that we are approaching the swamp, because we can smell it before we see it. 

We hove into view of the swamp a little after noon. At this point, the swamp is a vast expanse of mud and tall grass. There are a few stands of trees, mostly to the east. As we regard the swamp, Chuck munches on his rations; Stone knocks back another swig of ale. Goldpetal studies the swamp carefully, but does not speak. The grasses are very tall, perhaps six feet or more, mostly growing out of some small pools of water. There are some small meres visible, places where no grass disturbs the surface of the water, and he can see a lot of vines. The tracks lead straight into the swamp.

Miriel asks, “Does anybody have advice for traversing a swamp? I’ve never been in one.” 

Chuck laughs. “Our trip to SySy’s doesn’t count?”

“I rode in the cart, on a firm path,” she replies. 

“Look for firm ground,” Paks tells her, “And don’t stop walking. You’re more likely to sink if you’re standing still.”

Goldpetal’s hawks fly back into the camp; one lands on his outstretched arm, while another lands on a solitary tree a few yards from the edge of the swamp. That one has a mouse in its beak, which it devours quickly. “The hawks report nothing larger than ‘food’,” he says, “And plenty of that.”

We head into the swamp in single file. Stone takes the lead, carrying the 10-foot pole, and prodding with it to find the most firm ground. Chuck follows, with Miriel and Telryn in the middle. Goldpetal again sends the hawks ahead, to warn us of any signs of ratmen, but walks at the rear of the party with Paks. They watch our backs, but can be heard whispering to each other as we slog our way through the swamp. Though most of their conversation is inaudible over the sloshing foot steps of the rest of the party, Telryn and Miriel catch some snippets of it. It sounds as though Goldpetal is teaching Paks elvish, and their conversation also contains a lengthy discussion of the gods and the Titans. 

Within an hour we’re up to our knees in mud. Since it hasn’t rained, there are some places where there are long islands of dry, hard-packed dirt, but more often the ground is wet and very sticky. We’re glad we didn’t bring the horses, but we’re moving very slowly.

The tracks are clear to follow. When the ground is firm, the prints are clear to read, and even when water covers our feet, the passage of a hundred ratmen has broken numerous reeds and bent the grasses.

In the early afternoon, Chuck brings us to a halt.  “The tracks split, here,” he says, and points out the two paths. “It looks like some fresher tracks, perhaps ten to fifteen rat men, are headed off to the southwest. The tracks of the main army continue to come from the south.”

Goldpetal points out a set of huge tracks, moving with the smaller group. “These might be the tracks of the mauler that I saw at the freehold with their shaman.”

Chuck looks at the large tracks, and adds, “It’s just one creature, whatever it is.”

Goldpetal looks up at the rest of the group. “These southbound tracks look to be about two days old.”  Chuck nods in agreement.

“Which set of tracks should we follow?” asks Miriel.

Paks says, “I think we should follow the main body – that’s the group we decimated, and it’s their warren we’re looking for.”

“I disagree,” Chuck says. “We should follow the smaller group, and kill all the rat men. It will be much more frightening to the others if none of them return alive.”

Paks shakes her head, and says, “We should go to the source, before they have time to call for reinforcements.”

“I’m with Paks,” Miriel says. “They might not be going back to the same village, and we’re two days behind them.”

When Stone and Goldpetal agree, we decide to track the army back. As we begin to move again, Goldpetal warns, “They might double back behind us.”

“We should all keep an eye out for that,” Miriel declares.



We continue to travel south, and the ground becomes softer, progressing from swamp to marsh, and eventually nearly to bog. We are forced to move more and more slowly. Insects start biting us ravenously, especially the mosquitoes. The smell is overpowering, it’s humid, and we’re sweating. Paks smears herself with mud to protect against the insects, but it doesn’t seem to help much. 

One of the hawks comes back to perch on Goldpetal’s arm.  He tells us, “The hawks say that they saw a flock of rat men to the west, just a couple miles as the hawks fly.”

Telryn sends his owl to scout. Before the owl returns, he says, “Yes, they’re not too far away, about two miles west. Chester says they’re on a grassy knoll, a dry spot, in the lee of a ruined human nest. He saw about a dozen of them, one really big. They’re sleeping.”

“We should go after them,” Chuck urges strongly, “And kill them all.” Realizing that we aren’t two days behind them after all, we all agree. We return to the point where we saw tracks branching off, and follow the branching to the southwest.  

The going is much easier, and we realize that it’s actually an old path, firmer than the surrounding area. It’s hopelessly overgrown. Goldpetal says that it’s an ancient road; every once in a while we see cobblestones. Goldpetal looks for ruins along the way, but he doesn’t see anything that would tell him what kind of people built the road. 

Occasionally, as we walk, the path disappears under water. We travel until we know that the rat men are nearby. We can’t see them, but the birds say we're close, and we can see a little smoke. Stone brings us to a halt, and motions to us to keep quiet.

Telryn whispers, “Chester says that most of them are still asleep, but there are one or two awake, probably sentries.” 

We hear a bowstring twang, followed by a cursing. “One of them tried to shoot at Chester,” Telryn tells us, “Luckily, it missed.” 

Miriel suggests, “Goldpetal, this looks like a perfect opportunity to use your _entangle_ spell again.” 

Chuck whispers, “If we do, we can’t get at them.” 

“Why this is bad?” Stone asks, genuinely confused.

Nobody else has any other ideas, so we prepare for our attack.

Stone grabs a bunch of grass and ties it together, making an arrow which points across the road. He then steps off the path, and puts his pack down in the swamp, where the arrow points to it. His boots are even more covered in mud. 

When he returns, Paks whispers, “Why don’t you just leave it on the path instead?” She points to her pack, which she has set on the hard path. Stone shakes his head when he realizes that this will work, and retrieves his, getting even muddier. All the fighters drop their extra baggage with Paks’, and we advance on the knoll.



We sneak up the path, moving as quietly as we can. Goldpetal is in front, with Stone, Paks, and Chuck right behind him. We reach a break in the grass, and Goldpetal stops us with a commanding hand gesture. Everyone slips up beside him, so that we can all peer through the grass. 

In front of us is a small rise, the highest point we’ve found in the swamp, maybe two feet above the water level. To the south is a small pond, while the other three directions have the grass and mud which we are accustomed to. On the west side of the rise, about fifty yards away, there stand two crumbling stone walls, the remnants of a building long since ruined. The walls form an L which was formerly the northeast corner of the building. The corner is tall, perhaps eight feet in height, though the rest of the arms of the L are ever shorter, and by the time they terminate, the arms are only a foot high. The rat men are using the ruin for an ad-hoc shelter, and are camped in the cradle of the L. Two sentries are sitting, talking in low voices. They look very bored, and aren’t paying much attention, in the heat of the afternoon. The mauler lays back against the wall with its tongue out, snoring. 

“There’s plenty of low vegetation all around,” Goldpetal whispers, “So the _entangle_ should work perfectly.”

“Draw bows,” Chuck says. “We’ll all fire when Goldpetal casts the spell.” 

The fighters all ready their bows, and Goldpetal casts _entangle_. Grasses and vines begin to twine their way around the sleeping ratmen, who wake up screaming in terror. We all loose our bows, while the two hawks plummet from the sky, adding their hunting screams to the sudden cacophony. Three ratmen are definitely out of range of the spell, but one of those is trapped in the corner of the walls. The hawks both claw at the eyes of the nearest rat man, and it throws up its arms to cover its eyes. Stone’s arrow hits it in its unprotected chest, and kills it.

We begin to advance into the knoll, with Stone and Paks in the lead. The mauler, on the far side of the spell’s effect, tries to charge towards us through the entangling vines. It is too strong to be entangled, and tears through the vegetation, though the vines do slow it. The shaman begins to move through the living vines, away from us. He appears completely unaffected – in fact, it seems that the plants move out of his way. The rest of the ratmen try to run, but the entangling vines wrap most of them up before they get far.

Chuck moves to the edge of the clearing and fires at the nearest rat man, putting an arrow through it and killing it. The free rat men draw their short bows, and fire, but their hurried shots are as much a danger to their comrades as to us. One of the ratmen in the spell’s area manages to worm its way to the edge of the spell, but as it stands up, Telryn shoots his crossbow at it. His arrow pierces straight through its eye and into its brain, a double critical hit, killing it. Goldpetal’s second shot wounds one of the archers, putting an arrow into its chest. The hawks dive down to finish it off – one scratches at its eyes, while the other tears at its jugular. The ratman dies. 

The shaman starts casting a spell. He seems to have no difficulty casting: the vines and grasses swirl around him, but seem not to touch him. He completes the spell before anyone can shoot him. A swarm of bees appears, making a wall around Paks and Stone. Paks is able to dodge them without getting stung, but Stone is injured. Nonetheless, he steps out of the wall of bees, which moves him towards the mauler. He drops his crossbow and readies his fists, as it continues to labor through the entangling grasses towards him. The ratman in the corner has a bow, and hits the monk with an arrow.

Chuck and Paks take up positions near the end of the ruined wall, taking cover behind it. Paks waits with her sword drawn, while Chuck continues to fire his bow. He directs his arrows at the mauler, but the mauler’s armor protects it, and shot after shot glances off of it.  

Goldpetal and Telryn try to deal with the shaman. Telryn takes cover behind Paks and Chuck, and casts his newly-learned _sleep_ spell at the shaman. There is no visible effect – the shaman doesn’t even yawn.  Goldpetal works around the clearing towards the right, where the walls provide no cover, firing his bow at the shaman. His arrows have as little effect as Telryn’s spell. 

The hawks dive out of the sky to claw at the shaman, but he sidesteps their attack, and one of the hawks becomes trapped in the grass! The shaman reaches the edge of the _entangle_ area, and casts another spell of his own. His skin, which was previously covered in white fur, suddenly hardens and turns a dark ashen color. It looks cracked, like the bark of a tree. 

The mauler continues to close on Stone and Paks, but when it is only fifteen feet away, it grinds to a halt. It leans forward, struggling to continue its advance, but a hundred ropy vines stretch out diagonally behind it, holding it firm. It roars in frustration, as arrows rain down upon it from Stone’s crossbow, and the bows of Chuck and Paks. Most of the arrows miss, but Stone’s bolt scratches it.

Most of the ratmen remain entangled. The ratman in the corner has a bow, and continues to shoot at Stone. He hits again. “Ow! Hey, stop that!” Stone yells. Another frees himself enough to shoot at Paks, but his arrow glances harmlessly off of her shield. A third climbs the wall, finally escaping the entangled area.

Telryn casts another new spell, and a small orb of fire bursts into being. It burns the shaman, scorching his bark-like skin. Telryn had only just learned _lesser fire orb_ from Delonia the previous day, but he succeeds in his first casting of it. Goldpetal continues to shoot his bow at the shaman, but misses. The entangled hawk screeches in rage, but it cannot break free of the grasses. The shaman, now free of the writhing vegetation, draws his flail.  The other hawk flies at him, but the shaman is ready, and smashes it aside with his flail. It falls to the ground on the far side of him, badly wounded, but Goldpetal can see that it is still alive. 

Stone shoots at the archer trapped in the corner, who has hit him twice. He wounds it, and that distracts it enough that its next shot misses. Chuck steps around Paks and shoots at the rat man atop the wall. Both of his shots hit, one to its shoulder, and one critically hits it, piercing through the throat. It crumples, falling from the wall, dead. 

Paks shifts her fire to the shaman, but her short bow lacks the power to pierce his _barkskin_. Telryn’s first flaming orb has already expired, and he casts another _lesser fire orb_ at the shaman. This time, he misses, and the burning orb drifts overhead. The shaman hides behind the taller part of the wall, out of sight of everyone save Telryn’s owl, Chester. The injured hawk picks itself off the ground, and flies away, back towards the party. It hides behind the wall of bees. Goldpetal turns his attention to the archer trapped in the corner.  

With a great twang of snapping vines, the mauler breaks free. As it charges to engage the three fighters, Miriel yells, “Madriel! Bless these, your allies!” 

The mauler attacks Paks first. He claws and bites, hitting her with both claws. She is still standing, but her shield arm dangles uselessly, and she cries out to Miriel, “Healer!” She tries to bring her sword between herself and the mauler, but she is too wounded to wield it well. 

Stone unleashes a flurry of blows at the mauler, pounding it with both hands. Chuck shoots the mauler, but gets tangled in his bowstring. Not only does his shot miss, but he falls to the ground, and the bow flies out of his hand and into the mass of living vines. He is still holding the arrow. Miriel runs over to Paks and heals her: “Madriel, heal this warrior!” The spell takes effect immediately, and Paks lifts her shield back into position.

Goldpetal and the ratman archer in the corner exchange arrows, firing at the same moment. The ratman hits the elf in the leg, wounding him, but the elf’s arrow flies more true, piercing the heart and killing the archer. The druid surveys the rest of the _entangle_’s area for another target, and sees two more ratmen break free. 

The mauler swings its mammoth right fist at Paks to try and finish her off, but its great arm is literally brought to a halt mid-punch by the iron grip of the vines. Stone takes advantage of its sudden immobility to bring a big roundhouse right at it. He hits it perfectly in the jaw, and knocks it out! 

Seeing the mauler slump into the vines, the shaman abandons the six remaining ratmen, running away into the swamp. Telryn calls out, “The shaman’s getting away,” but the wizened grey ratman is quickly out of sight. The young mage, through their telepathic link, asks his owl to follow the shaman, but Chester tells him that the shaman is hidden in the marsh grass, and he can’t see it either.

Of the six remaining ratmen, only two are free, and one of those is in the L of the wall, near the corner.  Paks mutters a brief prayer, “Thank you, Madriel,” as she pulls out her bow. Everyone but Chuck has a bow or crossbow out, and firing into the hapless ratmen. Miriel ducks down, taking cover behind the wall, lest one of the archers hit her. 

One of the freed ratmen moves into the corner, out of the entangled area, and fires its bow at Stone, further wounding the half-orc. Goldpetal wounds it, in turn, but Paks and Stone carom their shots off the rock wall behind it. The other freed ratman is entangled again. Chuck regains his footing. His bow is too deep in the writhing grasses to use, so he draws his swords. 

Paks also draws hers, and moves along the outside of the wall. She stops near the corner, and readies herself in case one of the ratmen climbs over the wall. No sooner does she reach the corner, than the archer on the other side of the wall climbs over the wall and leaps down in front of her. She swings her longsword, but the force of his fall drops him to all fours, and her blow scythes over his head. He leaps inside her guard. She takes his claw stroke across her shield, but he bites her in the shoulder. Miriel backs away from him, moving closer to Telryn, and calls, “Chuck!”

Chuck runs over to where Paks is and flanks the ratman she's attacking. Between them, they have it trapped against the wall.  Paks misses with her long sword, but she puts some distance between herself and the ratman. It claws and bites at her, but this time she keeps it at bay with her sword point, looking for an opening.  Circling her, it briefly turns its back on Chuck, and he attacks it with both swords. The long sword, in his right hand, kills it, but that unbalances his second attack. He slips on the muddy ground, and flings his short sword off towards the edge of the clearing while he falls.

The ratmen are having no more luck breaking free: they are all entangled, and each time one manages to free itself momentarily, another vine wraps around it before it can escape. Telryn and Goldpetal continue to fire into the area, but without much effect. The vines are as likely to stop their shots as a ratman. Stone, in frustration, steps into the entanglement, where he can try to punch one. The hawk remains entangled – its cries have degenerated from rage to a piteous sound, as though it is asking Goldpetal for help. 

Vines begin to wrap themselves around Stone’s legs, and though his arms are still free, he finds the vines are already slowing him down. He cannot seem to hit his target. Paks sheathes her sword, still unbloodied, and moves around the wall to the far side of the L with her bow drawn. That completes the circle, and the ratmen are surrounded. Telryn advances right to the edge of the writhing vines, and shoots at the closest entangled rat men. He gets a critical hit, and his bolt buries itself in his target’s heart. It tumbles backward, dead. Paks wounds one of the entangled ratmen, while Goldpetal’s arrow kills the one closest to the far edge of the vines.

The vines have completely enveloped Stone now, and it is clear that he cannot move. He strains to free himself, to no avail. The ratman Paks had wounded breaks free of the vines momentarily, but he is deep in the heart of the vines, and there is no way out. Paks moves up to the edge of the vines and shoots him again, killing him this time. The three remaining ratmen are all firmly entangled, and it is just a matter of time. Goldpetal wounds one of them with his next shot.

Behind the wall, Miriel rushes over to pick up Chuck’s short sword. Chuck sees that we have things well in hand, and that he cannot reach his bow, so he walks after her. The redheaded priestess picks up his sword, and gives it back to him. She jokingly admonishes him, “Hold on to it, this time.”

While the archers pour arrows in at the surviving ratmen, Goldpetal’s skin suddenly turns to bark! It looks very much like the shaman’s skin had after one of its spells, though Goldpetal’s skin looks like a dark golden wood, rather than the ash of the ratman’s spell. Chuck, re-armed, moves over to the wall and waits for any of the ratmen to work free of the vines, where he can hit them with his swords. Paks kills another one, and, noticing that Miriel is waiting and watching, she calls, “Miriel, go get our packs!” The priestess turns to go.

Suddenly, the archer by Stone breaks free. It draws its dagger to attack the half-orc. With a desperate burst of strength, Stone also breaks free, and parries the blow with his right arm. The vines try to grip him, but he stays free and punches the rat man with his left hand, killing it. A vine trips him just as he connects, and he falls prone. He is quickly entangled again. 

The last rat man is trapped and helpless, but we show no mercy for a titanspawn, and it dies under a rain of arrows. The knoll is ours.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #10: "I hate the swamp!" Episode 1 of 5*

10th of November, 2002​
*Issue #10*

*“I hate the Swamp”*​


_After the siege of Kratys Freehold, we decided to pursue the remnants of the ratman army as they retreated into the swamp. We caught them sleeping on a grassy mound, deep in the swamp. In a pitched battle, we’ve just finished off the survivors. Their shaman escaped, but all of the other ratmen are dead. _ 



It’s mid-afternoon on the 3rd Wildday of Charder, 150AV. It’s sweltering, and horribly humid and sticky.  

Goldpetal had cast _entangle _ on the grasses at the top of the knoll, and we wait for the spell to expire to free Stone, the hawk, and Chuck’s bow.  The _wall of hornets_ which the shaman had summoned also dissipates.

Once he’s free, Stone walks around to make sure all the bodies are dead. The mauler is unconscious, but still breathing, so he slits its throat. Chuck, after recovering his bow, searches the bodies, with Telryn’s assistance. Paks searches the mauler. Miriel and Goldpetal check out the ruins to see if they can tell who built them, but they are weathered and moss-covered, so they can’t tell much.

On the bodies, we find 400 silver pieces. They seem to be coins from all over, including some which not even Goldpetal can recognize, which we think is quite odd. The mauler had a big silver arm band, carved in the rat man style, which Paks leaves, but points out to Chuck. He slides it off the mauler’s arm. We divide the coins, giving 66 to each member of the company. 

While Miriel and Goldpetal are checking the ruins, the priestess notices that the elf is sweating copiously and seems disoriented. “Goldpetal, you don’t look so good,” she says. “Why don’t you sit down, so I can minister to you.” He complies, sitting in the sun against one leg of the L-shaped ruined wall. When she touches her hand to his forehead, she shakes her head. “You have some sort of fever,” she says. “You’re sweating.” 

“I think I have Swamp Fever.”

Miriel recognizes his symptoms and agrees. “Yes, I think you’re right. Let’s move you into the shade.” She moves him to the shade of the other side of the wall, but says there’s not much more she can do for him here.

Stone, Chuck, and Paks walk back up the path to recover our packs. They set them near Goldpetal.  Stone sits down in the shade, also. He doesn’t look entirely well, either. He’s noticeably swollen from the hornet stings. 

We gather around Stone and Goldpetal, finding what shade we can, and Miriel asks, “So, what should we do next?”

“Should try to follow the shaman,” Chuck asks, “Or continue following the path of the attacking force?”

Telryn asks, “Are we planning an all-out assault on the ratman town?”

Miriel nods, once. “That’s the plan.”

“I’m really worn out,” Telryn says, wiping sweat from his brow. “And I couldn’t face an attack on the town right now.”

Paks gestures to Stone and Goldpetal. “Neither could they,” she says. “Perhaps we should rest here, and recover.” 

“I agree,” Miriel says, “The town is still understaffed, since we’ve killed all the ratmen from the army.”

“The shaman got away,” Paks points out. “If we wait too long, he’ll be able to warn them.”

“Waiting shouldn’t be that much of a problem,” Miriel says, “Since he’ll get there way before us anyway. He’s a ratman. He knows the swamp.”

Seeing everyone nodding in agreement that we should rest, Miriel says, “Okay, let’s make camp. Who is still wounded from the fight?” She looks around, and notices that Paks is still visibly injured. The priestess offers, “Paks, let me heal you.” 

“No,” Paks tries to protest, “Stone and Goldpetal need it more.”

“Take off your mail and let me look at it.”

Paks can’t even take her chain-mail shirt off without assistance, and her shoulder is badly bitten. Miriel cleans the wound, and then invokes Madriel’s healing on her. Even that magical healing is not sufficient, and it takes healing Paks a second time to close the last of her wounds.

When she is finished, Chuck asks Miriel to detect magic on the mauler’s armband. She casts the spell, but says that she doesn’t detect anything. Chuck was uninjured during the most recent battle, but still hadn’t fully recovered from his brutal wounds at the hands of Xyler Blackfoot during the siege of Kratys Freehold. Miriel summons the healing of Madriel for him, and for the first time in several days, he is completely healthy. 

Chuck and Paks don’t want the bodies, which are already beginning to smell bad, to attract vermin. While the others recuperate, they drag the corpses about fifty yards away, up the path, and roll them into the swamp. The mauler is extremely heavy, and takes both of them, together, putting their whole strength into it.



In the late afternoon, Miriel and Telryn wake up. Goldpetal is still sleeping soundly, and has been asleep an uncommonly long time for an elf. He is slumping over and looking very ill, leaned up against the rock wall. Though Stone is awake, but he has not fully recovered from the hornet stings. Paks looks around at our exhausted party, and says, “I think we should stay here and rest, until everyone’s back up to full strength.”

Miriel looks at the sun, already heading towards the horizon, and disagrees. “I have a bad feeling about staying here.”

“I hate the swamp,” Telryn says. “I’d rather not sleep here if we don’t have to.”

“This is still the best place for us to stay.” Paks argues. “It’s solid ground, out of the water, and away from the wildlife, with a wall to our backs.” She thumps a hand on the solid stone wall to our backs. “We can defend ourselves here.”

As she is convincing the rest of us, Goldpetal , who had been asleep, suddenly sits up and yells, “Thief! Stop!” 

He’s pointing away from the camp, into the swamp, where a goblin is running away. A glint of glass is visible in its right hand, but only Stone’s keen eyes recognize it as one of Goldpetal’s vials of antitoxin. The goblin runs off in the direction the shaman went, into the grass.

The monk is the first to react, and throws a dagger after the thief, but his injuries weaken his throw, and it falls short. Paks isn't wearing her armor, so she draws her bow instead of her sword. She looses a single arrow after the goblin. This provokes an attack of opportunity, so Stone reflexively punches her in the arm. Chuck also draws and fires, but neither of their arrows finds its mark.

Telryn launches his owl into the air, and within moments, the mage reports, “Chester says that he sees a small flock of goblins to the north.” 

Stone and Chuck rush into the swamp after the goblins, followed by Telryn. Paks looks dubiously at the ground, and begins slowly picking her way after them, trying to make sure of her footing. Miriel stays behind to protect Goldpetal, who doesn’t look well enough to get up. 

Stone and Chuck quickly see the goblins, who are standing behind some bushes, waving their arms and taunting them in the goblin tongue. Both of them know enough of the goblin language to get the gist: “Nyah nyah nyah! Stupid! Nyah nyah nyah!”  

It’s hard to see through the bushes, but there appear to be four to six goblins. Though Stone is normally the fastest runner in the company, he is still suffering from the hornet stings, and Chuck splashes past him and into the lead. As the young Vigilant closes on the goblins, he gets an intuitive feeling that something is wrong – he puts out his hand and stops Stone.  He grabs the ten-foot pole, which Llewyn gave him, and tests the ground in front of him. Just in front of him, there is a sudden drop-off, and the water gets very deep.

The goblins start slinging stones at Chuck and Stone. One hits Stone. “Ow!” he says.  Telryn catches up to the two fighters, who are stuck while Chuck searches for a path towards the goblins. 

The goblins throw more stones at them, and one hits each of them. Stone says “Ow!” again, louder. Telryn drops to one knee – he was hit in the head, and looks partly stunned.

The goblins taunt the fighters again, “Ha Ha! You can’t get us! Stupid orc!” this last directed at Stone, the half-orc. 

Finally, Chuck finds solid ground. “That way!” he yells, pointing around to the west. “Follow that grass – the ground is firm beneath it!”  Stone begins to run, outpacing the other two, around the edge of the deep water. 

Chuck draws his bow where he stands, and shoots at the goblins, but his arrows get lost in the dense foliage. They taunt him again “Gobble gobble! Loser! Gobble gobble!” Paks works her way up beside Chuck with her bow drawn and fires at the goblins, but the arrow flies over their heads. 

Miriel abandons Goldpetal to rush over to Telryn. He looks dizzy from the rock hitting his head. She kneels down beside him, but before she can do anything, he shakes his head as though to clear it. With a quick gesture, he points at the goblins and casts _magic missile_. An iridescent blue bolt streaks from his outstretched finger, through the foliage, and strikes one of the goblins square in the chest. It drops like a rock, apparently dead in an instant. 

The goblins look at each other, and scream in terror. “Aaah, aaah!” They run away from us, moving with amazing speed through the swamp. Telryn yells out a rude comment about their mothers, speaking the goblin tongue, as they run away. 

Stone runs up to the unconscious goblin, and checks to see if it has the vial. “Got it!” he yells to us, picking up the vial and showing it to us. He picks up the goblin and carries it back, leaving its club. 

We all slog back through the swamp to the camp area. The goblin is still breathing, but without aid, it slowly bleeds to death. Stone is the first one to notice. “I think its dead,” he says. “Can I eat it?”

“No!” Miriel says.

“You don’t know where that’s been,” Chuck quips. 

Stone dumps the body in the swamp, near the others. Miriel heals Telryn. When he returns from his waste disposal venture, Stone places the vial back in Goldpetal’s bag; the elf has already fallen asleep again.

We all move into the corner of the L, where we are protected on three sides, and set a watch. Paks, Stone, and Chuck rotate the watch while Miriel and Telryn rest. The owl is perched on the wall, watching our backs.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #10: "I hate the swamp!" - Episode 2 of 5*

The sun is setting, three hours later. It’s been unbearably hot all day, and there is no cover against the swarms of flies buzzing around our heads. Goldpetal is still sick. Most of us are asleep, and even Chuck and Paks, on watch, are dozing slightly from the heat. 

Suddenly, the owl squawks a warning. We all start awake as six bat-like creatures fly over the wall. They are rusty-red, with a bulbous, furry body about a foot long. They have bat-like wings, with a two-foot span, and a huge proboscis and insectoid yellow eyes. 

They swarm onto Miriel and Telryn. As they attack, we see that they have four small, pincer-like legs which they use to clamp onto the necks of their victims. Four surround Miriel as she sits up, and two attach themselves to her and start sucking her blood. Two attack Telryn, and they both latch onto him. 

Telryn panics, screaming, “Get ’em off me! Get ’em off me!” He struggles to pull one off, but its yellow feet have a firm grip. Its yellow eyes glare malevolently, unblinking, at him, mere inches from his own, and he can see it swallowing.

Stone appears horrified, and yells “Oh no! Stirgies!” He steps over to Telryn and tries to let loose a flurry of blows at the ones attached to the mage, but the half-orc appears ginger, as though afraid of them, and misses. None of us have ever seen Stone look scared before, and that worries us.

Chuck pulls out his two swords, steps over to Miriel, and swings at the two stirges attached to her. His first blow wounds one of them, but his second swing almost hits Miriel! Paks rushes around the other side of the priestess, and, taking care not to threaten her friend, she thrusts at the same one Chuck hit. She runs it through, and drags it away from the priestess. Miriel pulls out her dagger and stabs at the other one, wounding it. 

The stirges suck on Telryn and Miriel, who are visibly weakening. The other two flying around Miriel both land on her back and latch onto her. The one impaled on Paks’ sword is dead, and the warrior steps on it with one muddy boot, pushing the body off of her sword. Goldpetal weakly casts a spell, and his skin becomes the thick bark of a tree as the _barkskin_ takes effect. He backs away from the combatants.

Chuck swings his longsword the injured stirge on Miriel and hits it. It bursts with blood, which spatters all over her beautiful peacock cloak. Paks stabs at another of the stirges attacking the priestess, delivering a fatal blow. That leaves only one left on the priestess, and Miriel stabs at the last one, wounding it with her dagger. 

Telryn makes a tremendous effort of will to calm himself and concentrate, and he casts a _magic missile_ at one of the two on him. A brief flash of blue illuminates the battle, but the malicious creature continues to suck blood through its proboscis, regarding the mage with its unblinking stare. Stone grabs the other, and squeezes it with both hands. It pops like a balloon, spattering them both with gore. 

The wounded stirge on Telryn detaches itself and begins to try desperately to fly away. Heavy with its bloated belly, it lumbers through the air, beating its wings furiously to gain altitude. Before it can get far, the mage casts _magic missile_ a second time. The bolt of blue energy kills it, but even as it falls from the sky, Telryn collapses to the ground. 

One stirge is still sucking on Miriel, and Chuck uses his short sword carefully, piercing its head. Its is clearly a lethal strike, and the dead stirge falls at her feet. 

Miriel goes to tend to Telryn, and, after binding his wounds as best as she can, she asks Madriel to heal Telryn. Though his wounds close, and his flesh is healed, he still looks weak and pale, almost on the verge of death, from the bites he has suffered. 

“What were those things?” Paks asks Stone, who seemed to have seen them before.

The half-orc shudders. “Stirgies,” he utters, as though it were an oath, but will say no more.

After a brief silence, it is Goldpetal who answers. “They’re called stirges,” he says, “Not ‘stirgies’.” Though his voice starts weak, it gains a bit in strength as he finds his lecture tone. “They’re like very large mosquitoes – they drink mammal blood. Two of them together can kill a man in less than a minute, completely draining his blood. Although their wings resemble a bats’ and they have a mammalian body structure, they have an insectoid appearance and eyes, and live in large colonies. They may be one of the Titan’s creations, or they may be a natural relative of the vampire bat. They can sense the heat of a warm-blooded creature, even in pure darkness.”

He pauses, exhausted. This is the longest he has spoken since coming down with the fever, and it seems to be costing him a great effort to speak. “Chuck,” he continues, when he catches his breath, “If ever you find a dead animal, mysteriously drained of blood, that’s frequently a sign that a colony of stirges may be nearby. It is not uncommon for a colony to drain all of the mammals nearby of their blood, eliminating its food source, and forcing the colony to move.”

“I hate the swamp,” Telryn says when Goldpetal has finished. Miriel is examining him, and she looks perplexed.

Goldpetal looks at her. “Miriel,” he says, “I don’t think your usual cure wounds spells will help Telryn, there, even with the blessing of your goddess.”

Miriel looks very confused. “But, why not?” she asks.

“His problem is the loss of blood,” explains the druid, “Not an injury of the flesh. I think there are other blessings you may be able to provide, such as a restoration, which can heal him.”

“I have not yet been taught that rite,” she says, looking frustrated that she cannot help her companion.

Paks says, “I think this means we’ll have to spend the night here, so everyone can recover.”

Chuck looks at the sunset, and agrees. “We certainly can’t get anywhere safer before dark,” he says. “I just wish there were a way we could build some sort of shelter.”

“We could make a tent,” Stone suggests. He had been carrying the stirges over to throw them into the swamp near the dead ratmen; that chore is now complete.

“How?” asks the Vigilant. “I don’t think any of us are carrying one.”

“I have four square yards of canvas,” Stone says, “In my pack, there.”

He does, indeed; Chuck finds it folded neatly at the bottom of Stone’s pack, taking up about half the room. He also notices that there is no change of clothes, just an extra pair of boots. The tunic and kilt which are the monk’s normal attire are in fact his only attire. Chuck and the half-orc make a makeshift tent, using the canvas for a roof and the rock walls to put two sides of the tent up. The ten-foot pole, at a slight angle, props up the far corner, and everything is lashed in place with Chuck’s rope.

After dark, Stone lights a fire to cook some food. Miriel has normally done the cooking on our travels, but she is sleeping to recover, and to everyone’s surprise Stone turns out to be a competent, if not spectacular, substitute.



Paks takes the first watch, while everyone else sleeps. About halfway through her watch, she notices some flickering lights off to the southwest, through the swamp. She watches them closely for a little while, ready to wake the party if they appear threatening, but nothing happens.

An hour before midnight, she wakes Miriel for her watch, and mentions the lights to her, but says that they’ve been visible for over an hour and have done nothing overtly hostile. Miriel finds that it takes an act of will not to look at the lights. They’re glowing in weird and interesting patterns, but she finds that they are less compelling if she does not look directly at them.

A few hours later, Chuck joins Miriel on watch. He, too, manages to resist the lure of the dancing lights. In the darkest part of the night, a few hours before the dawn, they hear some splashing and squeaking nearby. It sounds as though it is coming from where the bodies of our victims were dumped. Miriel walks around the edge of the wall to look in that direction to see if she can see anything. She sees a small swarm of giant rats, each almost three feet long, feasting on the bodies. 

She wakes everyone up, quietly. “There’s a swarm of giant rats,” she warns everyone, “They’re feasting on our victims, for now, but we should stay alert.” 

Stone says, “I’ll get my curry powder,” and starts rummaging through his bag. Instead of coming back with cooking supplies, however, he pulls out his crossbow. Paks and Chuck draw their bows as well.

The rats are making an awful noise now. “Those rats are feasting on blood,” Stone warns. “In a minute they’re going to frenzy.” He goes over to the fire and stokes it up. 

“No,” Chuck says, “Rats, even giant ones, don’t usually attack people who are aware of them and have fire. However, if we were sleeping they might come over and start eating us.” 

As the fire flares up, the rats pause and look over at us, but after a moment, they return to their feast. Goldpetal, still lying at the deepest part of the L, goes back to sleep, as do Telryn and Paks. 

Miriel, Chuck and Stone keep watch the rest of the night. The rats gradually quiet as their food is consumed, and before first light, they have finished eating and dispersed, giving us a wide berth, as Chuck predicted.


----------



## Fulcan

*The swamp*

Josh did such a great job DMing the swamp with relentless encounters, constant sicknesses, and monotonous terain that I didn't have a problem roleplaying Telryn's dislike for the swamp at all.  By the time we got out of it, I was just as relieved as Telryn.  We were almost never at full strength for long because the swamp would just wear us down.

What a great time *grin*.


----------



## Amaroq

*Re: The swamp*

It certainly poses a dilemma for an author: if I portray it as gloomy and grey as it was, will anybody read it?


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #10: "I hate the swamp" - Episode 3 of 5*

It is dawn on the third Charday of Charder. Goldpetal, though still quite ill, gamely forces himself through his dawn ritual, at the far end of the island. Miriel also salutes her goddess as the sun rises. By the time they are finished, the rest of the camp is awake, and Stone is preparing a quick breakfast.

Paks and Chuck feel very much refreshed, and Stone seems to have fully recovered from the hornet stings. Miriel is still weakened from her harrowing encounter with the stirges. Telryn, likewise weakened, wakes up with a fever to rival Goldpetal’s.

We discuss whether or not to go after the rat man town. Paks, Miriel, and Telryn want to go onward. Stone and Goldpetal both think we should abandon our quest, and go back home. When Miriel convinces Stone to continue on, Chuck joins the quorum, and we are agreed. We break camp urgently, eager to make ground before the heat of midday.

We slog through the mud, back up the path to rejoin the tracks of the main army. Stone is half-supporting Goldpetal, who is moving very slowly. By the time we get to the point where the two tracks diverge, Telryn has gotten worse. He has a high fever and seems completely disoriented. Miriel diagnoses it as another case of Swamp Fever, and suggests that he won’t be able to cast any spells. Telryn doesn’t feel that he can go on, and Chuck says that we can’t carry two sick people. With two party members down with illness, we finally decide that we must head back to the freehold. We head back north, towards the edge of the swamp, in the direction of the freehold. 

We get out of the swamp safely, by midmorning. It’s becoming another sweltering day. Chuck finds a good place for a campground near the edge of the swamp, and we take a brief rest in the shade of a small stand of trees. Telryn doesn’t look well at all, and Goldpetal is exhausted by the travel we’ve done that morning, so we decide to stay there for the remainder of the day, and into the night.

The oppressive heat builds through noon and into the afternoon; even the healthiest members of the party want to do little more than rest in the shade. Stone stands guard, while Miriel and Paks tend to the sick. The only one of us who wants to do anything is Chuck; he paces restlessly for a short while, announces that he is going ‘hunting’, and strides away from the camp.

While watching over Telryn and Goldpetal all day, Miriel tries to talk with Paks. She gets the feeling that the earnest warrior is struggling with something; however, despite several attempts to draw out whatever it is, she is met with silence or noncommittal answers. 

Chuck comes back in the mid afternoon, carrying two dead rabbits, which he tells Miriel she might cook. In the evening, Miriel cooks a fine coney stew, and we all gather around to share the meal. 

As the smell of stew permeates the campsite, Telryn awakens. He is coherent for a little while. After greeting the rest of the group, and eating a bowl of stew, he suggests, “I think I’m well enough to cast a spell or two. I could try to cast _identify_ on the ‘shield’ ring you’re carrying, Miriel.” Seeing some of the others nodding, he continues, “The spell normally requires a pearl, but I think that I could substitute the violet gems we found, and sacrifice some of the cooking wine, and have a chance of succeeding.”

When everyone agrees, he takes the wine and one of the gems. He crushes the gem to a powder, and mixes it with the wine. He begins to gesticulate and chat, while the others watch the arcane ritual with amusement. He continues for several minutes, before abandoning the attempt and shaking his head. “I don’t think I did that right,” he says. “I’m going to have to try again.”

He leans back and closes his eyes. Miriel glances at him with concern in her green eyes. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“The effort has tired me,” he tells us, eyes still closed, “But I will try again in ten minutes or so.”

“How long does the spell take to cast?”

“About eight hours,” he says.

“Eight hours?! You’re not well enough to cast a spell which takes eight hours! You need to rest!”

“I’ll be fine,” he says. 

Sure enough, a few minutes later, he sits up, and begins again, crushing the second purple gem into a fine powder, and mixing it with the remainder of the wine. As before, he begins gesticulating with his arms, and chanting a long sonorous chant.

With his voice as a background, the rest of us set a watch rotation, and prepare for sleep. 

Paks and Miriel are on watch together, shortly after midnight, when Telryn abruptly ceases chanting. They both turn to him expectantly, but he is focused in deep concentration, and they are afraid to speak lest they distract him.

Finally, he looks up. “Success!” he says, and his voice is exhausted from the effort, sounding thin and reedy. “It is a ring of _force shield_. When you say the activation word, an invisible disc of force appears around the ring. You can use it as though it were a normal shield, Paks, though neither you nor your enemies could see it. It has no weight, and will barely impede your movement. The ‘magic word’ is the Slytherin word for ‘Shield,’ as inscribed on the inside of the ring.”

Miriel, who learned how to speak the word from Myrs at Kratys Freehold, teaches Telryn and Paks how to say it. She gives it to Telryn temporarily, although they plan to give it to Paks later, so she can use it instead of her real shield, and wield the masterwork bastard sword instead of her usual longsword. 

Telryn falls asleep immediately, and everyone rests until the next morning.



When Telryn wakes up the next morning, his fever has broken and he’s doing much better. He still hasn’t fully recovered his strength, between the fever, the stirges, and the exhausting spell, but he’s willing to continue on now. It is Belsaday, the twenty-third day of the month of Charder.

Miriel checks on Goldpetal, and the elf says, “I am feeling better as well. I can walk with you,” he tells her, “But I doubt that I would be much use in a fight. I am unable to concentrate enough to cast a spell, and am too weak to be useful with my bow.”

We consider waiting for both of them to recover further, but the idea that our quarry may have time to reinforce if we do not hurry guides our decision. We decide not to wait any longer, and after breakfast, we pack and head back to the swamp. 

Chuck, Stone, and Miriel plunge into the swamp, but Telryn balks at the edge, staring at the swamp with clear loathing. “By the gods, I hate the swamp,” he says, with a shudder. After a moment’s hesitation, he stands up straighter and resolutely presses after the others. Goldpetal and Paks bring up the rear.

Chuck leads, following the trail of the army. Though the trail of a hundred ratmen should be easy to follow, but he warns us, “We cannot delay much longer. The swamp is already beginning to heal itself: the flattened grasses and broken branches which mark the trail are well on the way to rebounding.”
We reach the point where the tracks split around mid-morning, and continue south along the trail of the large army.  We can see the knoll, off to our left, where we killed the mauler.

Late in the morning, as we’re walking through the swamp, Chuck notices a multitude of small lizards darting out of our way, hiding in the edges of the swamp. He points it out to Stone, who comments, “That’s very odd.”

A few moments later, Chuck brings us to a stop. We see a stump in front of us with a foot-long blue-green lizard sitting on it. It has large horns that sweep back, like spiky ears, and a long spiky tail. It hisses at us. As we look at it, trying to figure out what it is, we notice that it's sparking and swathed in electricity. We’re very close to it, practically right on top of it.

Telryn is the first to react. He’s been jumpy and uneasy all morning, and he quickly fires his crossbow at it, but his hurried shot misses. Paks and Chuck draw their bows, but both their arrows miss. Goldpetal stumbles back behind the rest of the group, out of the way, while Stone hurriedly tries to load his crossbow.

Miriel steps up next to the half-orc and yells, “Madriel, inspire fear in the hearts of our enemies!” Accompanying the prayer with a gesture, she casts _cause fear_ on the lizard. It turns and leaps off the rock, away from her. It darts into a heavier patch of brush, out of sight. 

A few moments later, we hear a splash, and Paks says, “I think it jumped in the lake.”

As we begin to relax, another lizard, possibly its mate, rushes out from behind the stump. Before anyone can react, she reaches Chuck, and a bolt of electricity shoots from her body. The Vigilant dodges it, feeling the hair on his arms stand on end and the slight tingle of a mild shock: he can only imagine how painful catching the brunt of it would have been. 

Stone has just finished loading his crossbow, and he shoots the lizard. His bolt hits her hard, burying itself in her flank, just above the hind legs. Telryn casts a _magic missile_ at her – the bolt of magical energy hits her, just as Paks’ arrow scratches her. 

Finally, Chuck steps forward, just three feet away from her, and takes a point blank shot. From that range, he is deadly, and his arrow passes into her brain and kills her. 

Telryn and Stone load their crossbows. Everyone looks warily around, but there seems to be no further danger. Stone asks Chuck, “What were those?”

“That’s a shocker lizard,” Chuck says, still scanning the surrounding marsh for other danger.

“Are they poisonous?” Miriel asks.

Chuck shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Right, I’ll take some of its meat with us.” Miriel pulls out her dagger, and carves some meat off of the dead lizard to bring it along. 

Not seeing any further threat, the rest of us begin to lower our bows. Chuck says, “Miriel, I’m really glad you scared the first lizard off. Shocker lizards aren’t so bad alone, but if two of them surround you, they can cooperate to create some major electrical bolts.”


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #10: "I hate the Swamp" - Episode 4 of 5*

We push our way further into the swamp. Though the army seems to have followed a fairly dry route, there are numerous points where we have to slog through water at least knee high, and we are all spattered with mud. The trail of the ratman army is becoming more difficult to follow. When we first entered the swamp, all of us could see the track clearly, but the swamp is already beginning to swallow every trace of the doomed army, and it takes all of Chuck’s tracking skill to keep us on the trail.

In the mid-afternoon, Chuck notices a pond of clearer, fresher water covered in lily pads off to our right. The lily pads appear to have brilliant blue jewels on them. He points them out to the rest of us, saying that he’s never seen or heard of anything like this. Though the jewels might have been tempting treasure under other circumstances, we are all convinced that everything in the swamp is malicious, and we move past them, watching them warily as we pass by.

As a little lizard bends down to drink from the clear water, it comes too close to one of the lily pads, which suddenly grabs it and pulls it into the water. Telryn shakes his head, muttering, “I hate the swamp” under his breath. We move on, staying well clear of the pond. 



In the late afternoon, the land gets very marshy and wet. The tracks we’ve been following seem to lead through a large pond, almost a lake, although at the edges, it doesn’t appear too deep. It is covered in some sort of reddish-brown bracken, which looks like it hasn’t been disturbed in several days. The swamp is quiet, except for the constant buzz of insects.

The pond is long, and looks wider at other points, but where the tracks enter the pond it is fairly narrow. Chuck gestures at the pond scum, which appears much thicker to either side, but where the tracks enter, it is fairly scarce. “See that?” he asks, pointing. “It looks like they crossed here, across the narrowest part. I think we can probably cross it ourselves.”  He takes his pole, and tests the depth. As far as he can reach from the relative firmness of shore, the pond is only three feet deep.

We have a brief but heated discussion about whether to cross it, or to go around. It is hard to see the borders of the pond, so it is impossible to judge how long it would take to circle around it. Miriel casts _detect magic_ on the lake, and when she doesn’t find anything, we agree to cross.

Stone takes the pole, ties the end of Chuck’s rope around his waist, and gives Chuck his pack. He walks into the lake, testing the depth as he goes. We chain ourselves together, with the rope looped around our waists.

We wade through the scummy lake, which is increasingly covered in red algae. When we’re about halfway through, Miriel feels a stinging wire lash across her thighs, and she shouts “Hurry up! Something is grabbing me.” We all start rushing through the murky water, Stone dragging us from the front. He sweeps the bottom with his pole as we go, trying to avoid falling into any sudden pits on the lake bottom.

As we push through the slime, we realize that it’s the algae itself that has tendrils grabbing at us. The tendrils burn with acid, and as we rush across, it whips itself across our legs, injuring Miriel, Telryn, and Stone. Chuck, in desperation, drops some pepper on its surface, but that does not seem to have any effect.

The algae’s acid is very strong, and Telryn passes out from the pain. Paks, bringing up the rear, grabs him before his face hits the acidic bracken. She picks him up, throws him across her back, and staggers after the rest of the group, barely able to keep up. 

The algae begins to thin out as we near the far shore, and everyone else makes it safely across. We gratefully make our way clear of the lake, up a slight incline. 

We’re on a small spit of mostly dry land, but we’re still covered in acid. Stone rolls around on the ground to rub it off. We all follow his example, and clean ourselves off. Miriel and Paks work at cleaning Telryn, who is by far the muddiest. Our boots and clothes, already muddied from days in the swamp, are quite damaged. They’ll need to be replaced.

Miriel prays to her patron, Madriel, for healing for Telryn. It seems that the sun pokes through the overhanging trees for a moment, and the young mage wakes up. His legs, bleeding when she started, now show the pink of fresh scars. 

Chuck grabs a couple of vials, empty bottles that we have left over from healing potions, and goes to the water’s edge.  He carefully brings one of the algae clumps to the side of the water, exposing its long pink tendril. Being careful not to get any on himself, he squeezes acid out of the tendril, and into the vials. He gives one of the flasks of acid to Telryn, and keeps the others. 

Goldpetal, looking around us, warns us, that it won’t be safe to stay on the spit, and we keep moving, looking for a dry spot to rest through the gathering gloom of evening.


----------



## Fulcan

*re: The Swamp*



			
				Amaroq said:
			
		

> It certainly poses a dilemma for an author: if I portray it as gloomy and grey as it was, will anybody read it?




Oh, I wasn't suggesting that it's not currently written dark enough.  I was just sharing the experience we had during play.  I think you've captured the details quite well.  As always I'm lovin reading it.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #10: "I hate the swamp" - Episode 5 of 5*

It is nearly dark when Chuck finally finds a larger dry spot.  It’s on slightly higher ground, with a few trees, off to the side, several yards off to the side of the army’s track. 

We’re all exhausted, and when Chuck looks around the clearing and says, “This is as good a place as any,” we’re all grateful.  Goldpetal and Telryn both look completely played out, and have been splashing along in silence: they both sit down, abruptly, looking as though they never want to move again. It occurs to Miriel that if Chuck is as tired as the rest of us, she’s not sure he would have seen anything dangerous, even though he checked it out. She says nothing, however.

Stone lights one of our lanterns, and Paks, Stone, and Chuck set up camp, again using the canvas to rig a make-shift cover. We’re too tired to light a fire, and after an unsatisfying meal of dry rations, we lay out our bags to sleep. We pair those who can see in the dark with humans, and set a two-man guard rotation. Chuck and Stone take the first watch.

It has only been dark for an hour when they notice that they are getting eaten up by mosquitoes. More and more of the annoying vermin are flying out of the darkness towards our camp, and they hear a horrible buzzing approaching. 

Even as they wake the others, a swarm of mosquitoes enters the campsite. Stone and Chuck are covered in mosquitoes before they can react. The rest of us wake up, to find the air so thick with mosquitoes that we literally cannot see each other.  Paks, Miriel, and Goldpetal bury themselves in their blankets, protecting their heads and faces as best as they can, trying to completely cover themselves.

Chuck runs to the edge of the swamp and begins trying to cover his exposed skin in mud. Telryn gets up, and starts searching his pack for a flint and steel and torch. He is engulfed by the swarm and bitten repeatedly as well. Stone makes a pile of wood and opens up the covered, lit lantern, pouring some of the oil on the wood to set it on fire. Telryn helps him. 

Chuck finishes covering himself in mud, and Stone has a fire going. The stocky half-orc picks up one of the burning brands, and swings the flaming log around through the mosquitoes. It works, and with Telryn and Chuck copying his methodology, they quickly disperse them. 

With the exception of Chuck and Stone, the rest of us settle down into our bedrolls and go back to sleep. Stone keeps the fire going, and he and Chuck continue their watch.

An hour later, Chuck wakes Miriel up. “I don’t feel so good,” he says.

She checks him over, and tells him that he’s got Swamp Fever again. While she’s awake, she examines Stone and Telryn as well. The half-orc is resilient, and says he feels fine, but Telryn isn’t feeling well, either. She can’t tell whether it was brought on by the mosquito bites, or a relapse of his earlier illness, but he is falling victim to Swamp Fever yet again.

Miriel replaces Chuck on the watch, staying up to tend them. Goldpetal, who is feeling better, gets up, and searches the immediate area for hag’s tongue, an herb which he says may help work against the fever. 

We go back to sleep, continuing the watch schedule as best as we can. 



Miriel is the only one on watch at two a.m. Telryn would have been watching with her, but he is too ill.  Between the owl and the hawks, however, we are reasonably confident that one guard is sufficient.

It isn’t.

The first thing Miriel realizes is wrong is that the night noises, a constant chirping and croaking, have all stopped. She thinks about waking the others, looking around to see if she can figure out what is wrong.

Suddenly, the priestess sees a giant menacing shadow, a blacker patch looming out of the darkness of the swamp night. It towers above her. She has time for nothing but a scream of terror. Two giant arms sweep out of the darkness at her, crashing across her face in a powerful slap. It picks her up and throws her viciously to the ground, where she bounces sickeningly, and lays crumpled in a limp heap. 

Everyone else is woken by Miriel’s screams. We see an eight foot tall mound of rotting vegetation, somehow animate and turning towards the others. It is about eight feet wide at the base, tapering to about two feet wide at the “head”. Two long ropy arms flail about the night. The thing smells putrid. 
We all scramble for our weapons. The first thing Chuck grabs is a vial of his new acid, which he throws at the creature. It is impossible to miss it, and the acid starts eating away at it, but that’s just making it angrier.

Telryn yells, “Is this thing intelligent?” 

“No!” Chuck hollers back. 

Telryn casts a _magic missile_ at it, tearing a small crater in the decaying vegetation. Stone charges it and punches it, creating a huge dent which nearly envelops his fist. The monster swings one ropy arm at him, hitting him hard. 

Paks isn’t wearing her armor, but she grabs her long sword and runs to Stone’s aid. She gets around the other side to flank it, but when she swings her sword, the blade cuts right through it. It doesn’t even appear to injure it. 

“It’s a shambling mound!” Goldpetal yells to us.  He tries to cast a spell, but it doesn’t appear to do anything.

The swamp thing’s right arm swings at Stone, catching him with a great backhand. We can hear bone break. He flies through the air and lands on the ground, his neck bent at an impossible angle. 

Chuck picks up a flaming log from the fire, and throws it at the shambling mound, hitting it and setting it on fire. Telryn grabs another log and throws at it, but misses. Paks starts to run back around it. She pulls out her unlit lantern and throws it at the mass, hoping to cover it with oil, but she misses. The lamp flies over the mound and shatters on the ground. 

The shambling mound, wounded and suddenly finding itself fighting fire, retreats quickly towards the water, submerging quickly and disappearing out of sight. 

Chuck runs to Miriel’s side, and amazingly she is still alive. He stabilizes her wounds as best as he can. Paks rushes to one of the packs, and begins looking for something.

Telryn goes to stabilize Stone, but Goldpetal is already there. “Its no use,” the elf tells him, with one finger to Stone’s throat. “He has no pulse.”  He straightens the orc’s broken body, and reaches out to close the corpse’s eyes.

Paks has been rummaging through Miriel’s pack, and now she pulls out Madriel’s Tear. Motioning Telryn and Goldpetal aside, she steps to Stone’s side, and kneels beside him with her eyes closed. She prays deeply, for many minutes, over him, begging the gods to help the young monk, if his work on this earth is not yet done. She invokes Madriel, and Corean, and Hedrada, and as she prays the others can feel a great power growing, until it almost fills the clearing. The gold liquid contained inside the crystal of Madriel’s Tear glows with a bright light, illuminating us all with the golden warmth of the sun.  

When she stops speaking, the power subsides, and the golden light fades. Stone makes a rattling, ragged gasp for air, and starts breathing again.

Paks opens her eyes, and looks around as though she does not know where she is, or what has just occurred.  

The others stare at her in stunned silence.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Interesting--what just happened?


----------



## Fulcan

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Interesting--what just happened?




Stone was broken into little pieces by the shambling mound and Paks used an artifact like thing we had to resurrect him.  At the time I was trying to figure out what was going on also.


----------



## joshwitz

Actually, there was a little bit more to it than that.  Pulling back the curtain...

I gave the party the Tear of Madriel, a poweful artifact with unspecified powers, to give myself some flexibility.  I knew the swamp was going to be VERY difficult, and over the party's skill level.  I did not tell the party that this was what it was, but Paks' player did a good job of remembering it and using it at just the right time (It had been about 3-4 m onths since the Tear had even been mentioned.)

I made an encounter table for the northern Mourning Marshes that went up to EL6.  This encounter was the '00', which I mistakenly made harder by having it a surprise situation.  (Shambling Mounds are notoriously quiet.).  I don't mind player deaths, but I like them to be heroic.  They should mean something so the player comes away with something more than just feeling that he rolled poorly or the DM was out to get her.

In this case, it also fit the story of Paks discovering her powers.

The Tear of Madriel is loosely based on the "Claw of the Concillator" from "The Book of the New Sun" by Gene Wolfe, which, of course, is based on the myth of the holy healing object (ie. "The Holy Grail").  

I also like the idea of Madriel feeling remorse as she slew her own mother, Mormo, and that the resulting Tear has healing powers that further Madriel's objectives generations later.  This becomes clear in a later episode that was prophesied when Verinia gave the party the Tear.


----------



## Amaroq

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Interesting--what just happened?




We were all trying to figure that out! 

As Paks' player, I knew that there was nothing we had which could resurrect a dead character. However, we had one item which I didn't know the powers of - the Tear, which my internal memory of the prophecy was "At your darkest hour, remember Madriel's Tear..." 

Losing Stone sure felt dark, though as the story will tell, it certainly wasn't our darkest hour...


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #11: The Lizard Men and the Duck - Episode 1 of 5*

15th of December, 2002​
*Issue #11*

*The Lizard Men and the Duck*​


_We are deep in the Mourning Marsh, seeking the home of the tribe of ratmen who attacked Kratys Freehold. After two days of slogging through the swamp, we camped on the only hummock of dry land we could find.

Overnight, a shambling mound attacked us, leaving Miriel unconscious and Stone apparently dead. We were barely able to beat it off with Chuck and Telryn using burning logs from our campfire to drive it back into the swamp. Paks exhausted herself with the effort of using Madriel’s Tear, an artifact of the goddess which Miriel is carrying, to bring Stone back to life, and stumbled to her bedroll in a daze afterwards. Chuck and Telryn were both sick with Swamp Fever, and only Goldpetal, recently recovered from the disease, was awake and coherent after the shambling mound left.

Goldpetal stood watch through the night, and decided that we needed to sleep until we woke of our own accord, which turned out to be well into the morning, several hours after dawn came to the swamp.  He gathered some more hag’s tongue, which helps to cure the Swamp Fever, and collected as much water as he could, using our waterskins and purifying it with a spell._



It is mid-morning on the 3rd Vanday of Charder. Goldpetal stands watch, silently. He is an elf, slight of build and less than five feet tall, with the fine aquiline features and pointed ears associated with his race. His hair is long and dark, flowing down over a muddy, tattered hand-sewn cloak, which he keeps wrapped about him. He watches intently around the campsite, noticing the small lizards, frogs, and insects which abound in the swamp. 

Miriel wakes up first. She wears a cloak, once beautifully embroidered, which is now dirtied almost beyond recognition. Her hair is red, and she wears a holy symbol of Madriel about her neck. After greeting Goldpetal, she checks over the other wounded members of the party, waking them up as she goes to them in turn.

Chuck, the Vigilant, has recovered from the Swamp Fever, since we are now familiar with the symptoms and caught them fairly early.  

Telryn is likewise recovered from the disease. The youthful mage is still suffering from the weakness he’s had since the stirges attacked, but Miriel remains unable to help him with that.  

Paks wakes, refreshed and otherwise uninjured. Her wounds from the fight with the mauler and shaman are now merely scars, thanks to Miriel’s divine healing. She and Miriel are the only ones who have not become ill during our sojourn in the swamp. She begins to don chain mail as the others wake up.  

Stone, however, is another story. The half-orc is still unconscious, and looks dangerously weak. Miriel heals him as best as she can, bringing him back to consciousness, but he still looks as though he is teetering on the brink. He isn’t sick, that she can tell, and his visible wounds have healed, so she concludes that something else must be wrong. 

“What’s happened to him?” she asks the rest of us.

Telryn tells her the story of how he was dead, and Paks used Madriel’s Tear to bring him back to life. He describes how a great golden light, as of the sun, filled the clearing, and Stone, who had no heartbeat, drew his first breath.

Both Stone and Miriel look at Paks with respect and awe, but she shrugs and says, “I remember it only vaguely, as though it were a dream.”

Miriel looks back to Stone. “You should rest, then. It looks as though the goddess has borrowed your own, inner strength in working whatever healing you have had, and even now uses it to power healing beyond what I could provide you.”

He nods weakly, and lays back down. Within moments, he is asleep.

Miriel is also injured after the shambling mound threw her to the ground, and she heals herself. We rest a little longer, exhausted by our travails to this point.



It is already shaping up to be another hot, humid day. It still hasn’t rained. 

“We should press on,” Goldpetal says, when everyone else is again awake. “We should not stay here much longer.” The rest of us nod, and grimly begin to pack our gear to continue.

“I hate the swamp,” Telryn says. It has become his mantra, and is said with passion. He is a tall mage, with brown hair, and his robes are dirtied like the rest of our ruined clothing.

Goldpetal tells us to drink as much water as we can, and then to fill our waterskins from the swamp. When we have done this, Goldpetal again purifies our waterskins. 

Just as we are ready to go, we hear the sound of a melee to the southeast. There’s a thick fog coming off the swamp, and we can’t see very far, so Telryn sends Chester, his white owl, to see what is making the noise. 

Paks asks Chuck to check the ground in the direction of the fight to see if he can find a safe path, which he does. Chuck also listens to see if he can tell who’s fighting, but with the swamp and the fog, he can’t tell much, other than that he hears metal on metal. Chuck and Paks draw their bows, and head off toward the fight, each with an arrow knocked. Telryn quickly goes after them. Goldpetal and Miriel bring up the rear with Stone, who has yet regained only a remnant of his former strength. 

After about two hundred yards, Chuck and Paks come upon an amazing sight. They see a small, shallow lake of water, with all sorts of worn rocks sticking up, appearing to be the remains of a ruined building, most of which is under the water, with nothing higher than our knees. The lake is full of obese brown ratmen, nothing like those we’ve seen before. They’re fighting creatures who look like walking bipedal lizards. There are a dozen ratmen fighting six lizard men, one of which looks larger and more powerful than the others. The ratmen are wearing metal armor, which is also something we haven’t seen before. 

Even as we come onto the scene, one lizard man falls with a scimitar in the gut. We notice a female human fighting on the side of the lizards, and if there were any doubt about which side to join, her presence makes up our minds. Chuck, Paks, and Goldpetal each shoot at the closest rat men. Chuck misses, but Paks hits one, wounding it. Goldpetal’s arrow misses his intended target, but strikes a different rat man. Telryn steps up behind Paks to cast _mage armor_ on her. Stone loads his crossbow, but does not join the fight; instead, he keeps watch to make sure nothing sneaks up behind us.

Goldpetal and Chuck continue to fire, and Chuck wounds his target. Telryn adds a crossbow bolt to the withering hail of fire, but Paks draws her longsword. The largest lizard kills his opponent, and Goldpetal’s two hawks swoop down to attack one of the injured ratmen from behind. One of them hits hard, and the force of the collision breaks the ratman’s neck, killing it! The surviving ratmen fight on with desperation; one of them knocks a lizard unconscious, and he falls into the water. 

Paks charges into the water towards the fight with her longsword drawn. She reaches the fight, and hits a ratman hard from behind, killing it. The strange woman grabs one of our arrows and stabs the nearest rat man with it. Miriel runs into the water to the aid of the fallen lizard, with her short spear out. She charges the ratman between her and the fallen lizard. She buries her spear into its chest, and is astonished to see it fall dead. Goldpetal, Telryn, and Chuck continue firing arrows at the eight surviving ratmen, but all three of them miss.

The lizard men and ratmen continue exchanging blows. The lizard men wound one, but the ratmen are still numerous, and knock down another lizard man. The hawks dive on another wounded ratman, and one of them scratches it further. The unknown woman stabs again with her arrow, but the improvised weapon does her little good.

One of the ratmen attacks Paks, but Paks blocks its blow with her shield, and counters with her longsword. Its metal armor turns her blow aside. Miriel casts a new spell, _sound burst_. A loud noise, as of an explosion, bursts over the battlefield, and one ratman collapses, dead, with blood streaming from its ears. Only seven ratmen remain, and two of them are stunned from Miriel’s spell.

Chuck shoots twice and misses both times. On the second shot, he fumbles, and his bow makes a horrible cracking sound. It is impossible to control, and flies out of his hands to land and sink into the water, out of sight. Goldpetal and Telryn continue to fire, but to no avail. The hawks attack another ratman. One claws at its eyes, but as it brings up its arms to protect its face, the other hawk flies straight into its fist. The second hawk is stunned and flutters weakly to the ground.

The biggest lizard man kills the ratman who Paks was fighting. For a brief moment, he and Paks face each other across the body. Paks asks him, in the common tongue, “Do you need help?” but he just looks at her strangely. After that brief exchange, they turn as one to face the surviving ratmen.

The ratmen continue to battle, but now they are starting to give ground. Odds which had been firmly in their favor now have turned against them, and they try to fall back towards each other, circling in defense of each other. They fight like cornered rats, seeing that there is no escape.

Paks steps further into the battle and swings at one of the injured rat men, but it parries her blow. That leaves it open for the leader of the lizard men, who crushes in its head with his great club. Miriel steps over to one of the stunned ratmen and attacks it with her short spear, running it through, and Telryn wounds one of the others with the next bolt from his crossbow. Goldpetal, worried about hitting his friends, fires low into the water, but his hawk attacks another ratman. Talons tear at its throat, and it falls backwards into the water, dead. 

Only three ratmen remain. The strange woman steps to one of the downed lizard men, holding his head out of the water, and staunching the bleeding with a makeshift bandage. Goldpetal and Telryn let loose one more volley, but then the elf puts out his hand and shakes his head, telling the young mage not to bother reloading.

One of the surviving ratmen attacks Miriel. She steps into its blow, allowing it to hit her, and skewers it on her spear. It dies, and she has to step on its chest to pull her spear back out. Chuck charges into the battle with his two swords, and attacks one of the remaining ratmen, but his longsword turns aside on the enemy’s armor. 

The last two ratmen give no quarter, and one of them manages to wound one of the lizard men, but then Paks reaches it, and a single blow from her sword catches it through the ribs, and it falls at her feet. 

With only one rat man remaining, we have the fight clearly in hand, and Miriel turns her attention to one of the fallen lizard men. The stranger is holding its head out of the water so that it won’t drown, and Miriel prays for Madriel’s healing. The goddess grants her request, and the lizard man’s wounds close visibly beneath her touch. The stranger looks up at her, and says, “Thank you.”

The lizard men attack the remaining rat man and beat it down with their clubs. 



As the fight ends, the lizard men do not put their clubs away. They look at us suspiciously. The leader says something in a strange hissing language. To most of the group, the hissing sounds threatening, but Paks sheathes her sword, and gestures at him with her palms open.

Telryn yells to Paks, “He was thanking us!”

He moves into the water and greets the lizard man in the same sibilant tongue. Miriel goes over to heal the other downed lizard man, and Telryn gestures at her, as though explaining that she’s a healer. The lizard men seem very impressed with her, and the attitude of the group seems to change. The leader gives a quick command, and the lizard men put away their clubs.

The leader gives a short speech, and Telryn is the only one who understands what the lizard man is saying. He translates for the rest of us. “He says, ‘Thank you for saving my people. We’ve had a rough time lately. My name is Hands of Fire. I can see that you folk are in very bad shape and possibly lost here in the swamp. Please, we would be honored if you would come to our home and stay with us.’ ” 

Without waiting for the rest of us to respond, Telryn immediately accepts Hands of Fire’s offer. He tries to explain to the lizard man how he hates the swamp. Hands of Fire looks confused, but offers a gentle response.

Telryn turns to us, and says, “He says, diplomatically, ‘One has heard that drylanders do not always fare so well in this lovely swamp of ours.’ ” 

Telryn asks the leader another question, about the human traveling with them. “They saved her a few hours previously, just before the rat men started hunting them. The rat men have been chasing them for the last several hours.”

Paks requests, “Ask if the ratmen were hunting her or them.”

“The Gorgers will eat anything they can get,” Hands of Fire answers. 

Telryn explains that we are hunting the disease tribe, and Hands of Fire says, “We do not like them either. Please, come to our home. We can talk there.”

Telryn asks them to pick a dry path to their home, which they say they understand. Meanwhile, Chuck searches the bodies, along with the other lizard men. The lizard men throw a bunch of stuff away; most ratman gear is poorly made and not worth taking. Chuck notices an oddity – the obese ratmen don't have any food on them at all. 

Chuck picks up his bow and finds that it’s snapped in half, and completely useless. He rescues the bowstring, but leaves the bow where it fell.
We head off with the lizard men towards their home. They make a column, with Hands of Fire leading, some of the lizard men in front, the others bringing up the rear, and our little band in the center with the strange woman. 

As we walk, Telryn asks the woman, “So who are you? Tell us about yourself.”

“I’m Novalia,” she says. “I haven’t been able to speak with them. Can you ask them about yesterday?”

Paks asks Telryn, “So how is it you can talk to them?”

He explains, “They’re speaking a form of Draconic, which is the language of magic. Their pronunciation is a little different from what I’ve been taught, and they talk so fast it can be hard to understand, but I’m able to follow most of it.”

Telryn overhears them whispering, talking about the priest of healing, the follower of the winged healer god. He catches up to Miriel and tells her, “You know, they seem to be in awe of you.”

She looks slightly uncomfortable, and attributes it all to Madriel.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #11: The Lizard Men and the Duck - Episode 2 of 5*

The lizard men seem to know the swamp extremely well, and they guide us around the dangers. The column moves much more quickly than we could by ourselves. We travel for about three hours with no incident, until we come to a stand of big weeping willow trees. The trees are not very tall, perhaps twelve to twenty feet, but they have numerous branches and the hanging willows make a curtain through which we cannot see. Hands of Fire parts the branches and leads us through the curtain into a clearing. 

There is a large tree in the center, its roots arching over a hole into the ground. The ground beneath our feet is as firm and solid as any we have encountered since entering the swamp, and the base of the tree is well above the waterline. The lizard men lead us to the hole, and from their gestures, it is clear that we will be going underground. The owl and the hawks make themselves comfortable in the trees above.  

The lizard men climb down into a cave complex, and we follow them below. Their warren is damp and warm, but the soil surrounding us is strong and firm, not muddy at all. There is a pungent reptilian odor, which is comforting to some, but disconcerting to others. There are roots lining the walls and ceiling of the passage, but there is plenty of clearance for us, since the lizard men average seven feet tall. 

We walk down a hallway into a large cavern, well-lit by torches, with numerous smaller passages leading off from the sides. As we enter, we see that it is filled with many more lizard men, who greet the returning party with joyous clamor. We recognize women and children among them, which helps ease any tension even before Hands of Fire gives a clear introduction, gesturing at us.  

Hands of Fire tells us there will be a big feast, but that he is going to take us to a place to rest first, and then we can talk to others of the tribe. He takes us into a small empty cave, where we settle down, setting down our packs and weapons, and relaxing a little. 

Several minutes after we are settled, an elderly lizard man comes into the cave. His skin is a paler grey than his companions, and he moves with the aid of a cane. He introduces himself as One Fang. He speaks very slowly, through Telryn’s interpretation. 

“One sees,” One Fang says, “That some of your people are sick and not at full strength. We have some potions that can help with that.” 

“We would be grateful for healing,” Telryn says.

The elderly One Fang offers Stone and Telryn some potions. Telryn grimaces at the foul taste, but perks right up, as the healing spreads through his body. Stone also looks better, but still seems weaker than usual. 

Miriel says, “Telryn, tell him I offer to heal any of the lizard men who need help.” He relays her message in the strange sibilant language of the lizard men. 

“One hears stories,” One Fang says, “Of followers of the winged goddess. We have a strange sickness here and could use your help.” 

“I am as yet inexperienced,” Miriel says modestly, “But I will do anything I can.”

One Fang leads Miriel and Telryn to a cave where a single lizard man lays deathly ill on a cot. Miriel examines him, and it quickly becomes obvious to her that he has the Slimy Doom. She explains, through Telryn, that this means that his insides are rotting and turning to slime. She has quite a bit of experience with this because there was a big outbreak of it in Lave last spring, and she knows very well how to heal it. She gives the aged lizard man information about the illness and the cure through Telryn, and eventually they determine what they need to heal him. Miriel continues to work on him, while One Fang leads Telryn back to ‘our’ cave.

The young mage wants to go off to take time to meditate on his recent experiences, but as soon as he arrives, everyone wants him to translate. Goldpetal asks Telryn to ask for someone to teach him properties of local plants. Telryn explains the request to One Fang, who responds in the draconic tongue.

“One Fang says that there are herbalists who would be willing to educate us,” Telryn translates. He tells how we are on a mission to wipe out the disease clan nearby, and the old lizard man refers him to the chief, who he says will very much want to talk to us as well.

Chuck asks for a lizard man to assist him in a search for good wood to make a new bow with, but Telryn has difficulty translating that request, and after a frustrating minute, he tries a different question, asking how long we will be allowed to stay here.

“He tells us that tomorrow is the big feast day,” Telryn translates, “And asks us to stay for the feast.”

“Tomorrow is Denev’s day,” Goldpetal realizes. He asks a quick question in the secret tongue of the druids. Old Fang does not appear to comprehend, and looks to Telryn for a translation. The mage, of course, understood just as little, and looks at Goldpetal quizzically. “Ask them what god they worship,” the elf says.

Telryn draws a breath as though about to embark on that question, but then pauses. “I… think that might be too personal of a question,” he says hesitantly.

“Then ask about the feast,” Goldpetal says. 

After a brief exchange, Telryn translates. “One Fang tells us that it is in honor of the land,” he says. “The great spirits protect them all year long, so one day each month they honor them. I asked if ‘the great spirits’ refers to Denev, but he said that he doesn’t know who that is.”

“May I speak to the shaman?” Goldpetal asks. 

Telryn translates, and laughs at One Fang’s response. “He says to assure you, ‘I am the man of medicine.’ ”

“Ask about their history,” Goldpetal says. “How long have they been here? Did they know…”

Telryn interrupts him. “I’m not going to translate all of that. I need to rest.”
One Fang asks him a question, and we can only listen as he and Telryn interact. The mage takes the moment to tell Goldpetal, “He says, ‘One would expect that all your questions about the lizard people will be answered tomorrow at the great feast.’ 

“Also, I asked what the food is, and warned him that we might not eat the same food. One Fang comprehends this, and explained that they are roasting a big pig, lots of fish, some lizards, and some snakes.”

“Ask if it would be offensive if we contributed food to the feast,” Paks says.

One Fang shakes his head and looks concerned as he explains to Telryn. “Yes,” the mage says. “He would be very offended if we did. He says that the hosts must provide food for the feast day.”

“Will it offend them for me to perform my rituals on the feast day?” asks Goldpetal.

Telryn has one last exchange with Old Fang, and translates, “He says of course not. Now, I really am done – I need to meditate.”

Paks offers, “Goldpetal, I would go with you, to protect you.” 

“I would appreciate that,” he answers, “Though of course, there are some parts of the ritual which you may not see.”

Telryn gratefully goes off to meditate. Stone and Novalia also sleep. Several hours later, Miriel returns.

“Where were you?” asks Chuck.

“There was a lizard man who had the Slimy Doom,” she explains. “I worked on him for several hours, and I think he’ll pull through. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go rest.”

The rest of us talk quietly amongst ourselves. Paks continues to study the elvish tongue under Goldpetal’s tutelage, and even Chuck learns a bit of it. 
In the evening, a lizard woman brings in some raw fish for us to eat. Miriel asks Telryn to explain that we generally prefer cooked food. When he translates this request, the lizard woman looks at us strangely, laughs, and walks away. Miriel cooks her share, but the rest eat it raw, and say it tastes better than they expected. 



All seven of us are gathered again in our small cave, and have just finished our evening meal. Paks looks at Novalia and asks, “Novalia, would you care to exchange stories with us?”

“Yes,” Goldpetal adds, with a more ominous tone to his voice. “Tell us. Why were you wandering alone in the swamp?”

“I’ll tell you,” Novalia says. “I grew up in Northern Vesh a few days’ walk north of Lave, in a small rural village you’ve probably never heard of. I was a farmer’s daughter, though I always found farming boring, and I wished for something more adventurous. When I was a teenager, I…” She breaks off for a moment, eyes clearly far away. She shakes her head. 

“I’d rather not speak of that. Suffice it to say that the Handmaidens of Tanil saved me from an unspeakable evil. In return, I went traveling with them. They taught me the way of the bow, the way of Tanil, and how to be good person. I appreciated this, but felt that I was being pulled in a different direction, somehow. They were a bit too preachy, and too… against men… for my tastes. I felt I needed to go fight real evil, not just male oppression. 

“At a freehold near this swamp, I met a group of ratman hunters, and decided to venture forth with them, as a minor healer and a fighter. Yesterday, our group was ambushed by the Brown Gorgers.”

“Those fat ratmen?” asks Paks.

“Yes,” she answers. “I was knocked unconscious almost immediately, and later awoke surrounded by the lizard men. I didn’t quite know what to think of them, and I couldn’t communicate with them. I insisted on giving them money, but they didn’t seem to know what to do with it. We started traveling, I thought to go to their home, when they were ambushed again. Many of the lizard men died, and the rest ran away, through the night. The ratmen caught us again shortly after dawn, and we made our last stand where you found us.

“So, I don’t know what happened to my companions, though I fear the worst. Telryn, you can speak with them? I’d like to ask Hands of Fire where they are, and what happened, and to tell them ‘thank you’.”

Paks tells her our story in some detail, leaving out some parts of it, but ending with our defense of Kratys Freehold and our plan to wipe out the Disease tribe. 

Novalia is aghast and impressed. She says, “I stayed Kratys Freehold myself, perhaps a month ago. That’s where I met the ratman hunters! Can I travel with you? I’d like to help against the ratmen, and then find my way back out of this swamp. I’ve been in the swamp for weeks.”

“We’ll talk about it,” Miriel answers, “But I think any assistance will be welcome.”

While we’re talking, a lizard woman comes in and offers us some wine. We accept it and taste it; it’s a sort of fermented berry drink. She delivers the wine and leaves, as we can’t communicate. 



In the evening, Paks takes Miriel aside, finding a quiet corner of the cave to ask, “How could I have healed Stone?  I’m no priestess.”

“The artifact you held is a powerful one,” Miriel answers, “And it is not surprising that the goddess might work miracles through it.”

“It wasn’t the first time,” Paks tells her. “In the tower, that first visit, when you were unconscious, I asked the goddess to heal you. I’m not sure if it worked, but your bleeding slowed, and you woke up moments later. Then, during the raid on SySy’s camp, the same thing happened. Milo was bleeding to death, and I asked Madriel to heal him, and I felt a healing power in my hands, and he woke up.”

“The goddess does not work only through her priestesses,” Miriel tells her. “She has been known to answer a true prayer, from one of her believers, especially so for those in dire need.”

“That’s just the thing,” Paks says, her voice a miserable whisper. “I’m not one of her followers.”

“Paks, Paks,” Miriel says, putting her arm around the distressed woman. “You are good of heart, and surely Madriel sees that.” 

After a pause, when Paks says nothing, Miriel asks, “Are you the follower of another god?”

“No,” she says. “My father taught me to respect all of the gods, but we never worshipped one above the others.”

“So you are not dedicated to another?” the priestess asks.

“No,” Paks whispers.

“Then it seems Madriel has chosen you,” Miriel says. “Perhaps there is something special about you. Verenia has always thought that you carried a special blessing of Madriel.

“Remember Verenia’s prophecy? About you, she said, ‘Madriel has chosen you. Tempered in a forge of trouble, are you worthy of the Redeemer?’  Madriel is often referred to as ‘the Redeemer’, in our religious texts.

“Then, during the siege of the freehold, when you were injured, I came to your side. You were badly wounded, and I feared I was too late, but when I prayed for the goddess’ aid, just as I uttered the words, the sun reached your face, and I felt a great, divine power move through me, in a way that felt very different from a normal healing. It was a long and exhausting healing, to bring you back from so close to the verge of death.

“I think that, for reasons beyond either of us, the goddess has taken a special interest in you.”

Paks says nothing, but appears comforted by Miriel’s words, and the two women sit in companionable silence for a while, before unrolling bedrolls and joining the others in sleep.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #11: The Lizard Men and the Duck - Episode 3 of 5*

The next morning, Goldpetal gets up early and goes out to do his private rituals, planning to wake Paks to go along and guard during the later ones. Paks, a light sleeper, wakes as he slips out, and she follows him, taking only enough time to grab her sword and cinch on her belt.

She follows him up to the surface, and off into the swamp. The elf moves lightly, easily, clearly at home in the swamp, while the tall, well-muscled woman splashes uneasily through the muddy waters. His keen elven ears hear her behind him, but he continues on for a quarter mile before he stops to allow her to catch up.

“I thought you wanted me to guard you,” she says, as she draws up to him.

“Some of my rituals,” he says, “Cannot be performed in the presence of an outsider.”

“But the swamp is hardly safe for us,” she protests. “I could stay far enough away to honor your religious needs, but I would worry if you were out alone.”

“I appreciate your concern,” he says, “But my vows require you to stay away altogether.”

The warrior sees that there is no arguing with the stern druid, and she can do naught but agree. 

While they are out, the lizard women bring some fruits for breakfast. After having a light morning meal, Miriel asks Telryn, “Can you come with me? I want to visit the sick lizard man, and I need you to come interpret.” They find the lizard man feeling much better, and though he is not completely well, Miriel thinks his life is no longer in danger.

Paks returns while they are out, and when Miriel, and Telryn return, we decide to go to the common area. Stone stays in our side cave with our baggage, admonishing Chuck, “Don’t forget to wake me for the feast.”

We all wander out into the common room, and find the lizard men roasting a pig. There are some little lizard children running around. Telryn is kept very busy interpreting, as we seem to be regarded with great interest. The children in particular seem quite amused by us, pointing and laughing and running away. 

Goldpetal returns a few hours later, having completed his Denev’s day rituals, and he arrives just in time for the feasting.

Around midday, we are called in to the feast, and wake Stone to join us. The food smells somewhat peculiar, with exotic spices, but the smells awaken great appetites in all of us. Telryn pulls us aside and offers to cast a spell to let us understand what the lizard men are saying. Novalia and Goldpetal accept his offer; Novalia wants to talk to the chief, and Goldpetal wants to talk to the shaman. Telryn also offers the spell to the shaman, who accepts appreciatively. 

We sit at the end of a low table. Appetizers of snake and raw fish are handed out. The adult lizards sit with us, but the children run around, enjoying a carnival air with no formality. They particularly seem to like Stone – they keep daring each other to touch him, running up and tapping him, and running away. Telryn creates a magical light on a pebble and tosses it at them. They scatter, but then run back and pick it up and exclaim over it. 

As we eat, some of the lizard men start drumming, while another plays a flute. The music is odd – the flute does not use the musical scales we are accustomed to, and the beat is syncopated, almost halting. The shaman starts chanting in Draconic, politely pausing so Telryn can translate for the rest of us. The chant is clearly a well-known ritual, and tells the story of the lizard men: 

_“Before the Titans arose, the dragons bestrode the earth. They were magic incarnate - it was the dragons who taught the first Titan, Mesos, the essence of magic. When the Titans created the two-legged races, the dragons were intrigued. Some even changed their form to live with these new peoples. Some spent ages in this shape and mated with the new peoples. The lizard peoples are the results of these matings. During the Titans’ War, some dragons fought for the Titans, and some dragons fought for the Divines. Some dragons hid among the two-legged peoples. In all cases, the great dragons perished. Only the dragon’s distant cousins, the Lizard People, live on, and there are not many of us left either. Ratmen, and other foul creatures, and even humans hunt the Lizard Peoples for food or sport or slavery.”_​
After this chant, the lizard people serve the great entrees of the feast: roast pig, a great snake, and numerous dishes of fish, some raw and some cooked. The side dishes include berries, nuts, and tubers from the surrounding swamp, as well as some fruit which are completely foreign to us. Miriel keeps an avid eye, and asks Telryn several times to get the name or descriptions of some of the spices. Stone and Paks eat heartily, partaking even of the strangest dishes with apparent relish.

After the feast, the chief, Eyes Of The Snake, introduces himself. He thanks us for assisting Hands of Fire and his band. With great formality, he tells us a story: 

_“Hands of Fire says that you saved his band from the fat brown ratmen. We have repaid you with food and healing and shelter. We can also act as guides while you remain in the swamp.

“But we ask another boon from you.”_​
He points to Miriel.

_“You are special, a priest of the winged healer god. Hands of Fire recognized you and brought you here. You are the first ever to come here since the war between the Titans and the Gods. 

“Once, during the great war, one of your sisters came here for help and safety and in return taught us secrets of healing, and helped protect us from our enemies. Now, many generations later you are here, in a new time of trouble for the Lizard People. This is not a coincidence. Many of our people have been getting sick, the slimy sickness, more every year. We know from where it comes: an old ruin not far from here. 

“Our grandsire's grandsire's grandsire told us it was a bad place. This we have known for a long time. In the old time, the lake surrounding the ruin was clear and full of yummy fish. In my grandsire's day, the water and the fish in that lake made us sick. In my father's day, strange monsters began to lurk in the lake. Now in my day, even the animals near the lake are getting sick and we have to hunt far from here for our food. 

“We have considered leaving our ancient home, this great cave, but this we do not want to do. It is the home of our ancestors, and it is our home, and it will be our children’s home. _​
He nods to Miriel. _“Perhaps a healer of peoples like you.”_

_“Perhaps a healer of lands like you,”_ he looks at the elf, Goldpetal. 

_“Perhaps a learned person of language like you,”_ he smiles at Telryn as the mage translates his words.

_“Perhaps a northern monster person like you,”_ he looks Stone in the eye.

_“Perhaps great warriors like you,”_ and he gestures at Paks and Chuck, _“Can drive this great enemy away._

_“We have never seen a group of peoples like you, with Titans and Divines, scholars and warriors: 

“Obviously the great dragon spirits have sent you here to save the poor Lizard Peoples from the evil spirits sickening our lands!_​
Miriel does not consult with the others, answering, “Telryn, tell him we’re happy to help, and indeed we have come to fight the Disease tribe. Is this sickness coming from them?” 

“No,” the chief responds. “We will guide you to fight the Disease tribe, but it is the ruin that these problems are coming from.”

Paks, speaking in the common tongue, says, “We should finish off the rat men first.”

Miriel answers, “If it were left to me, I would go work on the ruin right away.” The discussion is too rapid for Telryn to translate. 

Goldpetal agrees. “I agree. This ruin sounds like a great wound upon the land, a much greater evil.”

Paks nods. “We should at least negotiate for help against the Disease tribe, in exchange for helping against the ruin.”

This suggestion meets widespread approval, and Telryn explains to Eyes Of The Snake about the rat men attacking the freehold, and how we want to get to their camp quickly. 

“The ratman force didn't come back,” he tells us. “We've been watching the ratman town, and have also thought about attacking it while it is weak.” 

“Will you continue to watch it?” Telryn inquires.

“Yes, we intend to. Hands of Fire will both lead you to the ruin, and help fight the rat men, and One Fang will provide you with useful potions.”

Telryn explains this to Paks, and adds, “He suggests that fixing the ruin will only take a day or so.”

We sit in contemplative silence, each debating both courses. After half of minute of reflection by both groups, the chief offers, “If you mighty warriors help with the ruin, more lizard men might want to come with you to exterminate the Disease tribe. However, only Hands of Fire would dare go into the ruin.”

Miriel asks Telryn, “Please ask for time for us to discuss it, and then for as much information (and potions!) as they can give us.”

Telryn does, and also politely thanks him for everything they’ve done for us. 

Novalia talks to the chief to thank him, and to thank Hands of Fire for rescuing her. After the feast we return to our cave to discuss the path presented to us.



In our cave, Miriel starts the discussion by saying, “We have been asked in the name of Madriel to battle the evil contained in the ruins, and I feel very strongly that we should. We’ve already lost so many days on the ratmen that the element of surprise has certainly been lost.”

“I agree with that logic,” Telryn concurs. 

“We have an opportunity,” Goldpetal says solemnly, “To heal a great scar in the land, and save an ancient people who may also worship Denev.”

Novalia nods. “I just want to help the lizard men, who have helped me so much.”

Paks shakes her head. “I disagree,” she says. “And I have four reasons. First, the fight against the ratmen is still time-sensitive. The more time they have to regroup, the stronger they will be. Second, the poison coming from the ruins has been around for a long time. It can wait another day or two while we wipe out this Disease tribe. Third, we should finish what we start. We haven’t finished any of our missions yet. Finally, we don’t know that this side trip is really only a day-long mission.” 

Chuck says, “But the ratmen already know what’s happened. It’s been five days, and the shaman escaped. He’s surely had time to warn them.”

“And it will be even more by the time we get there,” Telryn adds, “Even if we leave tomorrow.”

“I think we have finished missions,” Miriel says.

“Unless you count rescuing Reginald, no,” Paks disagrees. “There are still many things unresolved about the smuggling, we let SySy escape, and we have not finished this battle with the Disease tribe.”

“The only good rat man is a dead ratman,” Novalia avows. “Fighting ratmen is a good thing, mission or no mission.”

It seems she may have been swayed by Paks’ arguments, but Goldpetal says sternly, “We are being asked, on Denev’s day, to take care of a terrible wound to the land. This cannot be a coincidence.”

“Think for a moment,” Chuck adds. “We have the best chance of taking out the ratmen with more help. They may have run away by now, and how the heck could we find SySy in the swamp anyway? I do want to go back and track down members of the evil de Asuras family, but overall, I don’t see the need to complete the other missions Paks mentioned. At least not right now.” 

“As long as we do both, what does it matter the order?” asks Stone.

“I can see that the will of the group is against me,” Paks concedes, “I’ll go on the mission to the ruin, but I’d like you all to help me go after the warren when we are done.”

“Of course,” Chuck agrees, and the others are all nodding in agreement as well.

“Thank you,” Miriel tells Paks. “This is the right thing to do.”

Novalia says, “If we are going into great danger, I can offer the Blessing of Tanil to anyone in the party.”

Chuck and Paks accept. The rest of the group thank her, but each turns it down: Miriel and Telryn worship Madriel, Stone worships Hedrada, and Goldpetal’s faith with Denev prompt each of them to refuse the blessing of another god.

Telryn leaves to inform Eye Of The Snake that we have decided to go the ruin, but asks him to watch the rat men closely. Telryn also casts four more _comprehend language_ spells in order for Miriel, Goldpetal, Paks and Novalia to speak to the lizard men and vice-versa. 



Goldpetal talks to One Fang, who says, “One is glad that you are going to examine this wound upon the land. One can give you these to assist you.” He hands Goldpetal five vials. “These three are potions of _healing_, and here are two potions of _remove disease_. They must be used early, soon after the disease is contracted.” 

He and Goldpetal walk together through the swamp, where One Fang shows the elf how to identify and harvest the leaf of the ninequine plant to make doses of a tonic to prevent swamp fever. “If taken once a day,” he says, “It should protect humans and even elves from the swamp fever. I do not know if it will work for a northern monster-person, but it should not hurt him.”

The elderly shaman moves slowly, but the elf patiently paces him. As they walk, Goldpetal asks him questions. “Tell me everything you know about the ruins we’re going to,” the elf requests. “Who built them? Who lived there?” 

Eye Of The Snake tells him, “Long ago, it was a human settlement, but for many generations it has been sunk under the swamp. Every generation, some foolhardy warrior breaks the taboo and goes there, but when they come back they have the slimy sickness and die shortly thereafter.”

“Have there been any other occupants?” Goldpetal inquires.

“No. None have lived there, not lizard man or rat man.”

“How long has your tribe been here?”

“We have lived here a long, long time,” One Fang says, “My grandsire’s grandsire’s grandsire lived here, and the warren was old then.”

“Was there always a lake here?”

“Yes. The lake is older than our tribe.”

“Were there any elvish settlements around before the swamp came?”

“Yes,” One Fang says. “A long time ago the elves lived here, but it has been many, many, many generations.”

“Would it be possible for one to guide us to the site where the elves lived?”

“One is not exactly sure where that would be, but one believes that it was west of here.”

“Who taught you to celebrate and revere the land?”

“We have always done this. It is the way.”

Goldpetal considers carefully, and then asks, “What did this particular tribe do during the Titans’ War?”

One Fang says, “This tribe tried to avoid the fighting and stay neutral.”

“How did you know that I was a healer of the land?”

“It was obvious,” One Fang says mysteriously.

Goldpetal shakes his head, and abandons that line of questioning. After a minute, he asks, “Is there anything on the way to the ruins that would harm us?”

“The ruins are not that far away,” One Fang tells him, “And Hands of Fire will help you.”

“How did going to the ruins become a taboo?”

“It has always been that way, ever since the Titans’ War.”

“Are there any stories about what happened there?”

“Not much is known.”

“Will the tribe perform rituals at the end of the day, after the feast?”

“No, the tradition is just to tell our history and have a feast. We do not follow the Titans nor worship the gods, but we have respect for Madriel because her priestess helped us during the Titans’ War, a story which has been passed down through the many generations.”

“How long do your people live?”

“Perhaps forty turnings of the seasons,” he says.



In other conversations, Miriel asks Eye Of The Snake for provisions. The chief looks almost insulted, and says that of course they will give us food. There are many leftovers from the feast, and though the raw fish will not keep well for traveling, many of the leftovers will make good trail rations. There are also smoked meat strips which the chief says their warriors use for long journeys.

Paks finds Hands of Fire, and with Telryn’s interpretation, she says to Hands of Fire, “We are brothers, having fought together. I would like to pledge my friendship to you and your people, and offer to help with any fight against evil.”

Hands of Fire is very impressed and honored, and hands her his club, she hands him her sword, they bow and re-exchange weapons. 

He tells Paks that he will lead us to the ruins tomorrow morning. 

Novalia also seeks out Hands of Fire to ask him about her former companions, and learns that, as she had feared, they are all dead.

Near sunset, Goldpetal ventures out into the swamp to fulfill his evening rituals. This time, he allows Paks to go with him to protect him.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #11: The Lizard Men and the Duck - Episode 4 of 5*

The next morning is the first day of Madrer, the month of Harvest. It is Corday, Corean’s Day. Miriel awakens before dawn, as Goldpetal had the night before for Denev’s Day. She slips out into the swamp to perform a special ritual and greeting to Madriel as the sun rises over the first day of her month. 

Hands of Fire wakes the rest of the group shortly after dawn, and as we pack we eat a quick breakfast. We are all ready to set out by the time Miriel returns, and without further ado we begin our journey to the ruins which the lizard men believe are a source of infection. 

With the guidance of Hands of Fire and Goldpetal, we are able to make good time, and avoid all of the worst perils of the swamp. The air is still and cool, and the swamp teems with signs of small life – insects, birds, lizards, and frogs, which can be seen keeping a respectful distance from our noisy passage.

After about an hour of traveling we arrive at a large lake. Fog rises off the still surface in the early morning, and we can see, in the distance, a large island. Those with the sharpest eyes, Miriel, Stone, and Goldpetal, can see a ruin in the middle of it. 

Hands of Fire steps to the edge of the lake, and pulls aside some branches to uncover a canoe. He gestures for all of us to board. It is just large enough for the eight of us, though we doubt that eight of the sizeable lizard men would fit in it. 

There is only one set of oars, and our guide starts paddling out across the lake. The surface of the lake is very quiet, disturbed only by the ripples of our passage. Something about the solemnity prevents any of us from speaking for the first half of the voyage.

Finally, a growing sense of unease prompts Chuck to whisper, “Do you get an odd feeling about this place?”

“Definitely,” answers Novalia in the same hush. “Something is wrong.”

“There is nothing alive,” Goldpetal observes. “No fish, no insects, no birds.”

“Don’t you guys feel anything?” Chuck asks, looking at the others, but his question is met with quick head shakes.

Novalia gesticulates and mutters an incantation under her breath. Stone eyes her cautiously, as though he is not yet sure he trusts her, but Telryn puts out a restraining hand. “_Detect evil_,” he whispers. 

After a minute of concentration, the young woman shakes her head. “I tried to _detect evil_,” she says, “But aside from this odd sense of unease, I don’t detect any evil on the lake itself.”

Telryn, still the only one who can speak with Hands of Fire, asks a quick question in Draconic. The lizard man responds, and Telryn translates. “He says it is the power of the taboo place.”



When we reach the island, we see that the ruin looks like it was once the top of a tower. Crenellated stone walls protrude about three feet from the top of the soil. One wall is crumbled and worn down, and it is easy to step onto the stones which pave the center of the rectangular space. There is a hole in the paving stones, and a ladder leads down into the darkness below.

Novalia, Paks, Stone, and Miriel approach the tower, while Hands of Fire and Goldpetal stay near the boat. “I can feel evil emanating up from underneath,” Novalia tells the others.

“I sense it, too,” Paks confirms.

Novalia concentrates to see if she can determine anything about the source, but she cannot learn anything. 

Meanwhile, Chuck explores the small confines of the island, seeing what he can observe about it. It is small and surprisingly barren, though some small plants grow about, unnaturally twisted. Telryn inspects the stones of the ruins, but they are covered over and he cannot learn much. Goldpetal stops at the water’s edge, and casts _detect poison_, a simple spell, on the water of the lake. Though the water is clearly fouled in some way, his spell does not indicate that it has been poisoned. 

Hands of Fire shouts a warning, and we turn towards him. Three corpses, dripping wet, are shambling out of the water towards him. They are waist deep in the water, and judging from the lichen and grasses streaming from their hair, they have been underwater a long time. Two of the animated bodies used to be human, while the third was once a lizard man. 

Paks yells, “Zombies!” She is the first to react, drawing her longsword and charging at them. She reaches the first as it reaches ankle depth in the water. Her first blow catches it across the chest, wounding it, but her momentum carries her into its reach. It swipes at her with one arm, and claws dig through her chain mail and into her ribs. 

Stone is about to charge into the fray, but Miriel restrains him. “Stay and watch the ladder,” she says. “That’s where the real danger is. We can handle these.”

Paks continues to fight alone, as the others ready their weapons and knock arrows. She retreats to the solid footing of the beach, trying to stay between the zombie and the solid ground. She yells for Miriel, “Medic!” Two bolts of blue light streaks over her shoulder as Telryn casts a _magic missile_, further wounding Paks’ zombie. She has just enough attention to spare to realize that it was two bolts, not one. Goldpetal’s hawks dive to attack the other human zombie, and one successfully claws it. It swipes at them, but misses its footing, and falls into the water with a splash. 

Novalia pulls out her bow and arrow. “Tanil, help me,” she says, invoking her god’s assistance as she knocks an arrow. Chuck wastes no time in speech, as he unleashes two shots into the melee. Both of his arrows strike true. One wounds the lizard man zombie, while the other dispatches Paks’ opponent. Hands of Fire rushes at the fallen zombie and clubs it over the head as it struggles to regain its feet. It slips, unmoving, beneath the water’s surface. Goldpetal engages the lizard man zombie with his scimitar, but the seven-foot tall monster’s claws have much more reach than the slight elf’s arms, even extended by a blade, and he is unable to get in a telling blow.

Miriel rushes up behind Paks, who positions herself between the priestess and the remaining zombie. “Madriel, heal this warrior,” she pleads, and Paks’ wounds close under her hands.  

Three more zombies appear; two of these corpses were once ratmen. They begin to close in on Paks, and for a brief moment, she and Miriel are almost surrounded. The young warrior lays about desperately with her longsword, unable to wound any of them, but keeping them at bay. The eldest one tries to bite her, but it meets her shield and loses its footing on the wet earth. As it falls, Telryn’s second _magic missile_ hits it in the chest, and the twin bolts of magical energy ensure that it will never rise again.

Chuck draws his two swords and charges, with a wordless cry, into the fray. Hands of Fire and Goldpetal are right behind him. Chuck’s initial rush catches two of the slow-moving undead, injuring both, and Hands of Fire finishes one off with his great club. Goldpetal’s rush helps push the two survivors back into the water. They are trapped knee-deep in the water, which seems to be slowing them somewhat, while the defenders are able to stand on the firm ground of the beach. Both of the hawks dart in and out of the fray, ripping chunks of degenerating flesh from one of the ratman zombies.

Miriel raises Madriel’s symbol above her head, and shouts, “In the name of Madriel, be gone!” It is an attempt to turn the undead, but they ignore her. Novalia steps around the other side of the ruin with Stone, to make sure there are not more zombies approaching, unseen, from the other side. She sees none. Telryn draws his crossbow and begins loading it.

Just as it looks like we are making progress, three more zombies clamber out of the lake. As they approach, Goldpetal hits one of them, cutting a deep gash across its chest with his scimitar. The three zombies of the third wave crash into the fray, and one of them hits Paks, driving her backwards. The other two attack Goldpetal, but he nimbly steps to the side. 

Telryn shoots his crossbow at the zombies, but misses. Chuck steps back from the front line, sheathing his swords and drawing his bow. He fires two rapid shots at a zombie attacking Goldpetal. He hits with the first arrow, but the second shot goes horribly awry as the bowstring clips his hand on release, numbing his hand.

Hands of Fire goes berserk, as he misses a zombie with his great club, but then leaps upon it and bites it, ripping a big chunk out of it as it falls, lifeless, beneath his weight. Miriel again calls, “In the name of Madriel, be gone!” but fails to turn undead. Novalia steps into the top of the tower, taking cover behind the crenellations. She continues to wait for a clear shot.

Goldpetal shifts around to get shoulder to shoulder with Paks, but can do little more than keeping the zombies at bay with his scimitar. The hawks dive to his aid, attacking the two zombies he faces. One of the hawks claws a chunk of rotting flesh off of the ratman zombie, and the hawks’ attack distracts the zombies from pressing the attack against the elf.

Paks stabs one of the zombies in front of her, but the other takes advantage of the opening to rake her across the shoulder. Hands of Fire splashes through the shallow water to her side, and brings his club down across the skull of one of her opponents. The zombie collapses into the water.

Three more zombies are staggering out of the water towards us, and it looks grim for us. Telryn fires his crossbow, wounding one of the newcomers. Stone loads his crossbow, abandoning his watch of the ladder, and fires, but at that range, he narrowly misses. Novalia casts _guidance_ on herself, asking Tanil to guide her arrow, still knocked but unfired.

“Madriel, hear my plea!” Miriel cries, raising her holy symbol above her head. “Be gone, vile beasts!” This time she succeeds in turning all of the zombies, and they turn to flee. 

We all attack them as they flee. Chuck wounds one of the zombies in front of Paks with his arrows. Paks hits one, and the hawks harass a third, tearing chunks of it away repeatedly until it submerges beneath the water.

All of the zombies escape underwater, moving further away and out of sight.  We pause to catch our breath for a moment.



When everyone’s heart rate returns to normal, and it is clear that the zombies are not returning, Miriel and Telryn gather around Paks, who was wounded. 

“I’m all right,” she insists, as Miriel inspects the wound. 

Miriel can see from the wounds that the young warrior is being less than honest. She bandages the wound, and then asks Madriel to heal the young warrior. The wound on her shoulder closes under the healing hands of the priestess.  

“Here, perhaps this will help prevent the need for that,” Telryn says, and casts _mage armor_ on her again. 

While they are working, Goldpetal and Stone look down into the dark hollow. “It looks like a sewer,” Stone says, and Goldpetal mentally agrees with the half-orc. The floor is wet, with puddles of standing water and mud. The elf drops a sling bullet down into the hole, and it lands with a splash in the mud, but it doesn’t sink.

“Solid enough to stand on,” he says, and Stone nods in agreement.

When Miriel and Telryn are finished tending to her, Paks suggests, “Let’s see if there’s something around to cover the hole with, in case those things come back after we go into the ruin. I don’t want them coming upon us from behind.” She looks around to see if there’s something around to cover the hole with, but the island is fairly barren, and she doesn’t see anything better than our rowboat. 

“Here, Paks,” Chuck offers, “Let’s use Stone’s canvas. We can hold it in place with some rocks.”

Miriel lights a torch and we all gather around the hole in the tower roof. Paks leads the way, sitting over the hole and dropping herself in. 

She finds herself in the northwest corner of a room twenty feet wide and perhaps double that in length. The walls are stone, fitting her mental image of it as ‘a tower’ even though the bulk of the space lies under the surface of the island. As she looks around, she sees a staircase in the southeast corner, going down. In the center of the hall, against the east wall, there are two doorways, with the remains of shattered doors. She steps out into the room and calls for the next people to follow. Judging from the wooden rubble on the floor, any furniture which was once there is broken, and yields few hints as to its former use.

As Chuck and Miriel climb down after her, Paks looks through the doors for movement. All she can see from the doorway is standing water and the rubble of more broken furniture. Behind her, Novalia comes down next, then Stone, then Telryn. Goldpetal comes down last, affixing the canvas over the hole to hide us from the zombies, if they return. He also picks his bullet out of the mud.

“Goldpetal, Stone,” Paks says, “You guard the doors here, while Chuck, Novalia, and I check out the next rooms. Miriel, Telryn, you stay behind us.”

Paks walks into the second room with Chuck at her back. The room is a twenty foot square, aligned with half of the first room. Before she has time to recognize much more, a swarm of small creatures leaps from the floor to fly towards her. They are rusty-red, with a bulbous, furry body about a foot long. They have bat-like wings, with a two-foot span, and a huge proboscis and insectoid yellow eyes. They swarm on Paks, using their small, pincer-like legs to try to clamp onto her body.

Paks, with horror in her voice, shouts out, “Stirges! Get them off!” as they swarm over her. There are four of them. One hits, sucking her blood, and weakening her. Luckily for us, however, two of them collide with each other, in mid-air, and appear a bit stunned by the collision. 

Outside, Telryn backs into a corner of the first room, getting a solid wall behind his back. Goldpetal summons a swarm of rats on the other side of the stirges. 

Chuck steps in next to Paks and grabs the stirge sucking on her. He pulls it off, holding it with two arms as far from his body as he can. Before he can do anything with it, Novalia fires an arrow at it, which goes straight into the small, bulbous head, killing it. 

Paks staggers back out of the room, and slumps against the opposite wall, next to Telryn, while her companions battle the stirges. Miriel steps over to see if she needs help, but Paks weakly waves her away. Hands of Fire moves into her place, and swings wildly at the stirges, but he fails to connect. There’s not enough room for Stone to join the melee, so he goes to the staircase to stand guard lest something come in response to the noise.

Telryn moves up behind Chuck and casts a _magic missile_ at the stirges. Two iridescent blue bolts streak from his fingertips, killing one of the stunned ones. 

One of the stirges latches itself onto Hands of Fire, sucking his blood. Chuck attacks it with his bare hands, ripping it free of Hands of Fire and killing it by breaking its neck. 

Goldpetal’s swarm of rats clambers onto the stunned stirge, the only one they could reach, but before they can do much to it, Hands of Fire brings his great two-handed club down on it in a furious overhand swing, smashing it. All of the stirges are dead.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #11: The Lizard Men and the Duck - Episode 5 of 5*

When we’ve all sheathed our weapons, Miriel hurries to Paks’ side. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she inquires with genuine concern.

“I’m not injured,” Paks answers, “But I feel very weak. It’s tough to hold up my shield.”

As Miriel checks Paks over, Telryn nods. “That’s how I’ve felt since our first battle with the stirges,” he tells her. 

“There’s nothing I can do for her,” Miriel says, standing up and helping the warrior to her feet. She turns to the others. “What was in the room?”

Chuck walks into the room and looks around, with Hands of Fire following him. On the floor is the rubble of broken furniture which appears common to this area. Leaning against the west wall is a desiccated human corpse. After our brush with undead on the surface, Hands of Fire bashes it with a club and knocks its head off, lest it animate behind us. 

Chuck searches the corpse and finds a pouch with coins in it. The purse contains 5 gold pieces, 11 silver pieces, and a topaz. The currency is unfamiliar, with a double-headed eagle on it. He also finds some tools, apparently thieves’ tools, and two scroll cases. He searches through the rest of the room cursorily, but doesn’t find anything. 

In the main room, Goldpetal sends the rats through the second door. Nothing attacks them, so Paks steps in behind them. She sees a matching square room, with a lot more ruined furniture. 

“There’s nothing here,” she calls. “Do we want to search the rooms thoroughly?” 

“Yeah,” Chuck calls back, and nobody objects. Miriel lights a torch and stays in the larger room. Goldpetal lets the rats go, and walks along the perimeter wall, examining the stones to search for hidden doors. 

Chuck, Hands of Fire and Telryn thoroughly search the room where the stirges were. Telryn finds a rose-quartz prism in the mud near the body. He quickly casts _detect magic_ on it, and discover that it has a magical aura. Further study reveals that the magic is an abjuration, but he can’t tell what it might do.

Stone and Paks search the third room, and Paks finds an old gold candlestick.  

Miriel pokes around in the main room. She doesn’t find anything useful, but does notice that there is a shallow pool of standing water in the southern end of the room. It doesn’t look deep enough even to wet the tops of our boots, if we step in it, but it is deep enough that a slight stream drips down the staircase in the southeast corner of the room.  

When we are done searching, we gather at the top of the staircase. “I’ll lead this time,” Chuck suggests. “Paks, you stay near the back with Stone.” 



The young Vigilant cautiously steps through the pool of water to the staircase. He examines the ground for tracks, but the staircase doesn’t seem to have been disturbed in many years. “Be careful,” he cautions the others. “It’s wet and covered in lichen – it’ll be very slippery.”

He works his way cautiously down the staircase, with Hands of Fire and Novalia behind him. The stairs are slippery, but taking care to plant their feet, they make it down the stairs quietly. 

At the bottom of the stairs, Chuck finds a room similar to the main room above. It is somewhat larger, perhaps fifty feet long, but seems to occupy the space directly underneath. Like the room above, there are also two doors in the east wall of this room. They are intact and closed. A staircase leads further down from the northwest corner of the room. The water dripping down the stairs forms a pool at the southeast corner, at the bottom of the staircase.

Chuck steps into the pool. The water comes up to his ankles, and he is glad that his boots come up most of the length of his calf. His feet stay dry as he splashes through the water to the dry land nearer the center of the room. Looking around, he can see the remains of rotted banners on the walls. On one wall are the remains of what must once have been a great tapestry, but he doubts it would be worth anything to anyone after centuries of decay. He checks the ground again, looking for tracks, but the lichens growing on the stone floor have not been disturbed in many years. 

He motions for the rest of us to follow him, and moves to the door nearest the stairs we came down. Hands of Fire follows him, and Novalia steps past them both to guard the down staircase and the second door. Stone and Goldpetal stay at the foot of the up staircase, while Miriel stations herself in the center of the room, where she can move quickly to assist anyone. 

Chuck attempts to open the first door, but it is stuck fast. He strains against it, trying to pull it open, but to no avail. “A little help, here?” he whispers. Hands of Fire and Paks come to assist, with Telryn standing behind them, ready to cast a spell if need be. All three pull together, but it still refuses to budge. 

“We need Stone,” Paks says. The half-orc dutifully comes to lend a hand, but he is still suffering from the effects of his near-death and miraculous recovery, and the door resists our every effort.

“Let’s try the other door,” Chuck suggests. The same group moves to the second door.

Before attempting to open it, Chuck leans an ear to the door, to listen against it. He doesn’t hear anything, and shakes his head to indicate that to the others. He pulls at this one, and though it offers a brief resistance, he manages to pull this one open. 

He steps into another square room, the same size as those upstairs, twenty feet on a side. It looks like it might have been a library, with lots of broken chairs. There’s a large bookcase against the eastern wall, and the young Vigilant smiles as he considers Telryn’s reaction to that find. There is a door in the southern wall. Some of the books are in the bookcase, but others have been tossed around the room; some of them are on the floor in the mud. 

“What’s in it?” Telryn asks, from the main room.

“A bunch of books and stuff!” Chuck calls back softly. “Come on in!”

“We should have the scholars look at that,” Miriel suggests. “Come out, and watch our backs.” 

With a quick bit of direction from the priestess, we adjust our roles. Hands of Fire and Paks guard the staircase up. Chuck and Stone guard the staircase down. Our scholarly party members, Miriel, Goldpetal, Novalia, and Telryn light some extra torches, and go in to look at the books. 

Telryn enters the room first, carrying one of the torches. As he moves towards the corner of the room, he feels very cold. Goldpetal is standing right behind him, and notices that the young mage is starting to shiver. As Telryn approaches the bookcase with the torch, the elf sees a mold which was on the bookshelf spread before his very eyes, covering more of the wall and bookshelf. 

“Ow!” Telryn gasps, as a burst of cold air gives him a small freezer burn. Goldpetal is similarly affected. 

They both back away, back to the door. Telryn warns the others “Stay away from that mold. I think it might be activated by the heat.”

Miriel asks, “Goldpetal, do you knows what this mold is?”

“I’ve never seen it before,” he says, “But I’ve heard stories of ‘brown mold,’ which is pretty common underground. Heat sources make it grow, cold sources make it shrink.”

Miriel and Telryn, who have torches, leave the room, and Novalia follows. Goldpetal stays. “I can see without the torch,” he says. “I’ll look around.”

“Be careful,” Miriel cautions. 

As she and the others return to the larger room, Paks asks “What happened?” 

“It was cold,” Telryn says, and explains about the mold. When he’s finished, he calls to the elf, “Goldpetal, bring out any books which are not next to the mold. I’m going to study a cold spell.”  



Telryn sits in the center of the main room and opens his spell books. As he studies to learn to cast the spell _ray of frost_, several of us re-enter the library. If we move carefully, keeping the torches away from the mold, we’re able to slip through the library to the door on its south wall without making the mold grow. Chuck, Goldpetal, Hands of Fire, and Paks step to the door, while Miriel watches the mold. Stone and Novalia remain behind to guard Telryn.

Chuck listens at the door, but he doesn’t hear anything from the space beyond. He tries to open the door, but, like the first door on this level, it won’t budge. “Somebody else try,” he says, stepping back to make room.

Goldpetal steps forward and puts his shoulder to it. The slight, small elf gives a quick heave, and the door creaks open. Chuck looks completely surprised, assessing the elf’s build with his mouth agape. 

Looking through the door, Goldpetal sees a large hall, with a big wooden table in the center. As he carefully moves into the room, his eyes take in other details which suggest that this was once the great hall of this tower complex. He notes a lot of old banners, a pair of swords crossed on the wall, a large fireplace, and a pair of mighty double-barred doors on the east wall. A door on the west wall is clearly the stuck door from the main hall.

Goldpetal moves slowly along the wall of the room, and Chuck follows him into the room. The watchful eyes of the pair notice a sizeable pool of water in the southeast corner, and mud seeping in under the great double doors. Paks steps to the doorway, where she can survey the room.

Chuck examines the puddle from afar. “I don’t like the looks of that water,” he tells Goldpetal. The elf, when he pays closer attention to it, notices what Chuck has spotted – the water has a weird sheen to it, and it ripples strangely. The room is still, and there have been no ripples in the previous pools of water. 

Chuck picks up a broken chair. Before Goldpetal can say anything, he throws it at the water. The pool moves, and a large pseudopod reaches out of it. It catches the chair in mid-air, and holds onto it. A shimmering clear ooze slimes out of the water towards them. 

Goldpetal shouts a word of command, and summons a swarm of bats which attack the ooze. Chuck draws his bow, and shoots an arrow at the ooze. The arrow hits it, sticks in the ooze for a moment, and then begins to dissolve. 

Paks quickly backs out into the library, where she tells the other members of the party, “We’ve found some sort of clear ooze. It moves, and I think its acid.” 

“Not good,” says Stone, from the main room. 

Telryn looks up from his studies, and hands Novalia a flask. “Try this,” he says. Seeing the blank look on her face, he adds, “Its alchemist’s fire.” He returns to his studies and Novalia hands the vial to Paks. 

Miriel moves to the door between the hall and the library, where she can watch both the mold, and the clear ooze.

The ooze moves slowly towards the party – it does not move fast enough to catch even a walking human. The first pseudopod has returned into the body of the ooze, which is working on digesting the remnants of the chair. The bats dive to attack it. Another pseudopod forms out of the ooze and swats at the bats. One is trapped within it, and begins to dissolve as well. The rest of the bats follow the slime, which is oozing under the table.

Chuck pulls out a vial of acid and throws it at the ooze. The vial bursts right in the center of it, but the strange creature doesn’t seem to care. Paks moves back into the doorway, and throws the vial of alchemist’s fire at it. The flammable liquid bursts near the front of the slimy beast, ignites briefly, but is quickly extinguished.

Hands of Fire says something in a commanding tone of voice, but none of us understand. His interpreter, several rooms away, does not hear. The lizard man, in frustration, grabs the table, and tries to shift it. He runs out of time, as the ooze seeps towards his feet. A pseudopod swipes towards him, and he leaps back out of the way just in time.

Everyone backs away from it, staying near the walls of the room. Chuck shoots two more arrows at the ooze, hitting it twice more. Like the first arrow, these two arrows dissolve. However, the ooze stops moving and squishes to the floor, looking like any ordinary puddle of water. Chuck throws another chair at it, but nothing happens. 

“I think its dead,” he says.

Chuck picks up another chair, and throws this at the larger pool of water in the corner. Again, nothing happens. The pool appears to be about a foot deep. 

“What was that thing?” asks Paks, with disgust in her voice.

“I have no idea,” Goldpetal answers. “Chuck?”

“Who cares, as long as it’s dead?”



The danger has passed, and we return to a standing watch. Stone, Paks, Novalia, and Hands of Fire remain in the main room of the level, keeping two pairs of eyes on each staircase. Telryn continues to study, Miriel keeps an eye on the brown mold, and Chuck and Goldpetal search the hall thoroughly. 

They do not find anything useful. The wall hangings are all too old to be of value, the swords on the wall have rusted, and a search of the fireplace reveals nothing. They examine the walls and fireplace for hidden doors, but find nothing out of the ordinary. As though by unspoken agreement, they ignore the great double doors with mud seeping through them – remembering that the doors are about twenty feet below the surface of the lake, neither of them is foolish enough to contemplate opening them.

When Telryn finishes studying, he moves in to attack the brown mold. It is very anticlimactic: he casts the simplest cold cantrip, a _ray of frost_, at it, and the mold shrivels up and flakes off. 

Goldpetal, Miriel, and Telryn go in to look at books, while Chuck inspects the bookcases for secret doors. Several minutes pass in silent search, broken only by occasional noises from the readers.

“Hey guys,” Chuck calls excitedly, “It looks like the section where the mold was hides a secret door. If I move this book…”

“Don’t!” Telryn interjects sharply. “Let us finish here, first.” Chuck steps away from his discovery, and waits impatiently while the others read.

Goldpetal finds that one book is a treatise on the old Leadan empire, which Telryn says covered this whole continent at one time. Telryn finds a useful reference book on gems. Paging through it, he figures that if someone spent a week reading it, they could learn to appraise gems. Nothing else looks useful, and many of the books are damaged beyond legibility due to the damp conditions.

When they have finished, Chuck asks plaintively, “_Now_ can we look behind the secret door?” Without even waiting for an answer, he pulls on the false book he discovered. A section of the bookcase shifts back and slides sideways, revealing a dark room beyond.

Chuck draws his magical dagger, which provides a shimmering, blue-tinged light. He steps into the dark room, holding his glowing dagger aloft. He discovers a study, covered in dust. It looks as though nothing has been disturbed within since the tower fell. A desk, a chair, and a small chest are the only furniture in the room.

Paks and Telryn enter the room as well. It is crowded, as the room is only about five feet wide and ten feet long. Paks examines the chest for traps. She doesn’t find any. She draws her short sword, which she keeps sheathed at her belt in case her longsword breaks, and tries to jimmy the lock. Afraid of breaking the blade of her sword, she can’t push with too much force, and she thinks the sword will break before the chest does. Telryn pulls out the thieves’ tools and tries to open the chest, but he can’t make any sense of the lock picks. 

While they worry at the chest, Chuck examines the desk. He searches it thoroughly, but doesn’t find anything too useful. It looks as though the occupant just stepped out for a moment – there are ancient sheets of parchment, which crumble at his touch, and an inkwell filled with dry black ink. Everything is covered in a fine dust.

The chest involves everyone. Goldpetal slashes at it with his scimitar, but that only nicks the blade. Hands of Fire tries to pry it open, but fails, so he bashes at the lock with his club, but it still refuses to yield. Chuck tries to pick it up, thinking it might break if he dropped it, but it’s too heavy. Stone tries to pry it open with his bare hands, but concedes that it is beyond his strength. He cannot pick it up, either.

Finally, Telryn pours his flask of acid into the lock. Hands of Fire pries at it, and breaks it open at last. He kicks the lid open. 

Inside the chest, we find a big sack, a little pouch, a folded cloak, and a gold duck statue. Hands of Fire uses the short sword to try to pick up the sack; it rips open and some coins spill out. He picks up the little pouch and dumps it out onto the table; six garnets spill out. 

Stone and Chuck reach for the duck, which Chuck touches first. He grabs it, holds it to his chest for a moment, and then furtively puts it in his bag. 

Goldpetal pulls the cloak out, and immediately recognizes it as the work of the High Elves, the ancestors of his race. Their cloaks are legendary for giving camouflage, especially in woodlands areas. He looks at his homespun clothes, worn through from our travails through the swamp, and smiles at the thought of replacing them. Hands of Fire tips the chest over and spills out the gold coins. 

Goldpetal calls out “Miriel, why don’t you come in and _detect magic_, here.”

Miriel enters the room, and casts _detect magic_ from the corner of the room, where she can use it on everything in the room. The spell lets her see magical auras, and finds that there is something magic in Goldpetal’s pack, and also something in Chuck’s pack. Telryn has a lot of magic on him. She gets a weird feeling from Chuck, as if he himself is enchanted. 

“The gold is fine,” she tells everyone. As Chuck moves past her, out of the room, she pulls Goldpetal aside. “I think Chuck might be enchanted,” she tells him. “Keep an eye on him.” Goldpetal follows Chuck into the main room. 

Stone examines the coins, and notes that they have a wheel stamped on them. They do not match any coins which the half-orc has seen before.

Miriel goes to find Telryn. “I think Chuck might be enchanted,” she says. “I got a weird feeling from him when I cast detect magic. I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know, either,” the mage says. “I think it might have been that duck he picked up.”

Miriel finds Chuck, in the hall where we killed the ooze, and tells him, “I think the duck might be enchanted.”

“Yeah, it’s my duck!” he says, looking at her as though she were crazy. “Now I can swim, fly, and talk to ducks.” She looks at him blankly, and he concludes, “But not when you’re looking at me.” 

“Is it a curse?” Paks asks from the doorway.

“No, no, its magic!” Chuck says, whirling to face her. Goldpetal, behind his back, catches Paks’ eye and nods his head yes.

Everyone looks doubtful of Chuck’s assertion, but there doesn’t seem to be much we can do. Though we’ve all heard of magical curses, and the counter-magic to remove them, none of us have learned such a spell. 

Paks, ever the conciliator, suggests, “Shall we open the double doors?”

“No,” Telryn says quickly. “We’re under the water level, and look at the mud seeping in.”

“We might let in half the lake,” Miriel says, in agreement. “Let’s go down the next staircase.”

Stone starts to lug the sack of coins into the main room, but Telryn tells him, “No, just leave it in the study. We can pick it up on our way back out.” 

We close the secret door, and gather in the hall. The dark opening of the staircase awaits us.


----------



## Amaroq

*1 week hiatus*

Sorry to leave the group in the lurch, as it were, but RealLife(tm) beckons - I'll be out of town without internet connection this next week.

Next story update: March 15th, when we'll start with Issue #12: Under the Lake


----------



## joshwitz

About the duck:

It was inspired not only by Munchkin ("The Duck of Doom -- Never pick up a Duck in the Dungeon"), but I had also read Cerebus "Church and State" that month.   I actually wrote up a long history of the Duck, why it's cursed, and what it's doing at the bottom of the lake.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #12: Under The Lake - Episode 1 of 5*

29th of December, 2002​
*Issue #12*



*Under the Lake*​


_Four days ago, we set out into the Mourning Marshes, searching for the clan of Disease ratmen who attacked Kratys Freehold. We planned to attack them while they were weakened, having sent their best warriors to the attack. Only their shaman has escaped and can warn them that we seek vengeance.

However, on our quest, we met a tribe of lizard men battling a second clan of ratmen. We assisted the lizard men in their fight, and as payment, they invited us to their home for a great celebratory feast. There, their chief asked our assistance in putting an end to a great evil which has been tainting the swamp for generations. It emanates from a submerged tower in an island at the center of a lake.

We could not refuse such a quest, and now, we are partway into the submerged tower. We have fought several evils: undead zombies attacked us on the surface of the island, we discovered stirges living within the tower, and now, we have cleared the second floor, which held only slimes and oozes. Whatever the great evil is, it lies yet further below us. _ 



It is noon on the first Corday of Madrer. We stand in a long hall, on the second floor of the submerged tower. The room is about fifty feet long, and perhaps twenty feet wide. There are two doors in the south wall, the long edge of the room. At opposite ends, there are two sets of stairs, one leading up to safety, and the other leading down into the ominous darkness. 

As we discuss what to do next, Telryn is exploring the room. A stone comes loose, falls from the ceiling, and hits him in the head. The young mage looks dazed, and sits down awkwardly. 

Red-haired Miriel, the priestess of Madriel, steps over to examine him, and finds that he’s having trouble focusing and concentrating. He can’t tell her how many fingers she is holding up. “I think you have a concussion,” she concludes, after his third incorrect guess. “You should probably go rest in the boat.”

Concerned about leaving his companions without an interpreter, Telryn says something in Draconic to Hands of Fire, the seven-foot tall lizard man warrior who has been traveling with us. The lizard man responds in kind. “Hands of Fire says,” Telryn translates for us, “That he knows the rest of you can’t communicate with him, but that he’ll figure it out.”

Before he leaves, Miriel asks him, “May I take the prism?” We had found a magical rose-quartz prism the previous day, after defeating some stirges in the submerged tower.

“You can take it for now,” he says, “If you can decipher how to use it, but I want to keep it when we divide up the treasure.” 

Miriel also looks over Paks, who is still weakened from the attack of the stirges. The young female warrior wears chain mail and carries a sword and shield. Her hair is cropped just above her broad shoulders. As before, there is nothing Miriel can do for her.

Miriel’s other ward, Stone, is a half-orc. His hair is short and black, and his face has a pugnacious cast to it. He needs a bath, but after a week in the swamp, we all do.  He was killed, we think, in the battle with the shambling mound, but somehow brought back to life by Paks, using a great artifact that Miriel carries, Madriel’s Tear. He had been greatly weakened by the experience. “I’m feeling much better now,” he says. “I’m ready for a fight – don’t hold me back, this time.”

Hands of Fire holds out some things significantly. During our adventure in the tower, he has found two scroll cases, some coins, and some pieces of topaz.  

Telryn opens the scroll cases, but after looking fuzzily at the first scroll, he says, “I can’t figure this one out without casting _read magic_, which I’m too woozy to do.”

The other is sealed with a double eagle, and when he opens it, he says, “It seems to talk about troop movements of long ago.”

Miriel takes it from him. After a bit of study, she says, “No, it looks like it contains troop movements for the Durover invasion. I’d heard that Lageni has been invading Durover for the last few years. This document might be several months out of date, but it’s pretty new.”

We send the scrolls back with Telryn to the boat. 



“Do you think there’s more on this level?” Miriel asks. “There might be another secret door.”

Goldpetal shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Maybe we should go down the stairs.” He walks over to the main room of the level, and goes to the stairs to look. He can feel cold air wafting up.

Paks comes up behind him, and says, “I have a really bad feeling about the next level.”

As Goldpetal watches down the stairs, he can see a lot of movement at the bottom of the stairs. “It looks like there are numerous rats down there,” he says.

Stone joins them, and concurs. “Yep. I see a lot of rats down there.” 

“Paks,” Miriel inquires. “Do you think your bad feeling should prevent us from going down, or just make us go carefully?”

“Kind of both,” she answers, hesitantly. 

“Isn’t it kind of strange,” Chuck points out, “That there are so many rats which aren’t coming up the stairs?” As we’ve been watching, none of the rats have stepped, even briefly, on the lowest stair.

“Very,” says Stone.

“Unnatural,” says Goldpetal.

“How many rats are there?” asks Novalia, sweeping her dark purple cloak back into position on her shoulders, out of the way. The archer has been a quiet member of our group. She was rescued by the lizard men, and has joined us in our quest. She holds her bow out, with an arrow held half-readied in case of danger. 

Stone counts. “One... two... Lots!”

“There’s a whole swarm of rats down there,” Goldpetal says, “But I can’t see as well as Stone in this light, and we can’t see the entire space. If it’s a room this size, and the entire floor is covered like that, there could be well over a hundred rats. Maybe we could burn them?”

Miriel suggests, “Let’s throw a torch down. Everybody get your weapons out.” When we all draw weapons or knock an arrow, she tosses her torch down the stairs. The rats scatter a bit to avoid the torch. 

“I’m gonna take a look,” Stone says. The half-orc gingerly steps about halfway down the stairs, so that he can see the room better. “I see a large square room,” he calls back quietly, “Maybe fifty by fifty. There are four big pillars, and rats everywhere.” He comes back up to the top of the stairs, and rejoins the group.

“How do we kill rats?” Miriel asks. “Goldpetal, can you do something with them?”

“No,” he answers, never looking away from the swarm of rats. “I can summon rats, but I don’t know of anything to disperse them.”

“We could smoke them out,” suggests Novalia. 

Miriel asks Goldpetal, “What about summoning a swarm of some other creature, something that preys on rats?”

He shakes his head. “That is a good idea, but my spell is not yet powerful enough for that.”

Paks steps past the others, to the top of the stairs and fires her bow down into the swarm. Her shot kills a rat, pegging it to the ground. The other rats swarm over its corpse, feeding on it.

Inspired by this, Stone goes upstairs. He comes back with the corpse of a stirges, which he chops into bits.

Stone walks down the stairs a bit, and starts throwing pieces of stirge into the corners, walking down the stairs. The rats start swarming into the corners. Some parts of the floor clear up, and the rats seem to ignoring Stone in favor of the corpses. 

The room is perfectly square, and there are four huge pillars supporting the ceiling in the center. The rats are swarming everywhere, up the walls, and up the pillars supporting the room. In one corner of the room, he sees rotted barrels and chests on the floor. They look over a hundred years old. There is a bit of water on the floor, too, pooled in the southern end. He looks around carefully, but can’t see any doors or exits out of the room.

At the top of the stairs, the rest of the group continues to discuss the conundrum. “I still think we should smoke them out,” Novalia says. 

“Should we _detect magic_?” asks Paks. 

“I like the idea of burning them,” Miriel says, “Or at least smoking them out.”

“I’m not sure,” Goldpetal says. “What if that just drives them up towards us?”

“Do we have any spells we could use?” asks Novalia.

“I could cast _sound burst_,” Miriel says, “But it won't get the whole room.”

“Look how well Stone’s distraction worked,” Paks says, although by now the rats have ceased swarming over the bits of stirge. The half-orc has returned to the first step of the stairs: that seems to be safe enough, for none of the rats climb up onto the stair. 

“Let’s throw a whole corpse down there,” Paks continues, “To get them to swarm in one area.”

Stone climbs back up the stairs. “But there aren’t any doors,” he tells her.

“Whatever we decide,” Miriel says, “I’ll need to rest before we head down, and I want to go out of the tower to do so.”

“I’ll come watch you,” Novalia says. 

Paks says, “Someone should stay and watch the rats.” Stone sits down on the stairs to watch, and Paks and Chuck wait with him. 

Miriel and Novalia go upstairs. Miriel gestures to Hands of Fire to come along and gets him to pick up the bag of coins and the sack of topaz to come out. He carries it up to the boat, and then goes back down into the tower. 

Miriel rests, while Goldpetal and Hands of Fire search all the rooms on the floor we are on for secret doors. Chuck searches the walls of the great hall. Stone and Paks sit side by side on the stairs, keeping an eye on the rats and talking. At first they try to plan a way into the room, but, failing to come up with any good ideas, their conversation shifts to a sharing of stories.


----------



## Fulcan

joshwitz said:
			
		

> About the duck:
> 
> It was inspired not only by Munchkin ("The Duck of Doom -- Never pick up a Duck in the Dungeon"), but I had also read Cerebus "Church and State" that month.   I actually wrote up a long history of the Duck, why it's cursed, and what it's doing at the bottom of the lake.




At some point that you deem appropriate (because we won't ever go back to it or something) you'll have to post/send out that history so that we may enjoy the fruits of your labor.

I still wish Telryn was able to cast fly while chuck had that duck in his possession.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Well, it must be getting close to the time when you get back. I look forward to seeing what will happen with Chuck and the Duck.

Bump.


----------



## Amaroq

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Well, it must be getting close to the time when you get back. I look forward to seeing what will happen with Chuck and the Duck.




How right you are! I'm back, and have posted Issue #12, Episode 1. 

And, I think you'll really enjoy Episode 3.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #12: Under the Lake - Episode 2 of 5*

Stone and Paks are sitting at the top of the stairs, chatting. Stone is slowly eating some bread and cheese. His crossbow sits in his lap, while Paks’ bow is leaned against the wall next to her. Every once in a while, Stone tosses a little cheese down and causes a scramble among the rats. The stirges are long since stripped to the bone.

Suddenly, Stone nudges Paks. “Shh! Look!” he whispers, and points to the southeast corner of the rat-filled room below. 

A trap door opens up, and the rats scatter away from it. He sees two human-looking arms coming out of the door. He readies his crossbow. A ghoul climbs out, grabs a rat and bites the head off of it.

“Should I shoot it?” Stone whispers to Paks, aiming his crossbow at it.

She shakes her head. “Let the ghoul keep eating.”

After devouring the rat, the ghoul starts sniffing and looking around. It looks directly at Stone, and appears to see him.

With a loud mechanical noise, Stone fires his crossbow, and the bolt hits the ghoul in the chest. Paks has only just stood up, and Stone drops his crossbow. Yelling a battle cry, he rushes down the stairs towards the ghoul. He sprints into the pack of rats, running through them with single-minded determination. The rats bite at the half-orc’s ankles as he runs, but none injure him seriously.

Paks yells for help, and Chuck, who was closest, rushes to the top of the stairs, shouldering past her and beginning the descent. Paks grabs her bow and follows him downstairs more cautiously. Goldpetal and Hands of Fire, further away, begin running towards the staircase from the great hall. 

Stone reaches the ghoul at full speed. It tries to bite him, but the half-orc lowers his shoulder and makes a flying tackle, driving the ghoul back over the trap door. They both fall through the trap door and plummet out of sight.

Seeing Stone disappear, Chuck rushes into the room. He, too, is bitten by the rats as he crosses the room. He reaches the trap door, and looks down through it. In darkness ten feet below him, he can barely make out Stone and the ghoul wrestling. He calls back to Paks, “There’s a ghoul, and its got Stone!” Paks starts running back up the stairs, yelling as she goes, to summon the rest of the party.

In the small corridor below the trap door, the ghoul and Stone grapple on the floor. The half-orc is faster, but the ghoul has a crushing strength. Finally, Stone unleashes a flurry of head-butts against the ghoul. Twice his forehead makes solid contact with the ghoul’s head, and the second blow crushes its skull, covering his forehead in gore. The lifeless body of the ghoul goes limp beneath him. 

The rats are swarming around Chuck now, getting in more bites. There’s a ladder under the trap door, and he quickly climbs down it. The rats do not follow.

Moments later, Goldpetal and Hands of Fire reach the top of the stairs. They see an empty room with a lot of rats, and from their distant vantage, they do not notice the trap door in the far corner. They slow to a stop halfway down the stairs, looking for the rest of the party.

Below, Chuck finds himself in a hallway with Stone and the corpse of the ghoul. “Are you okay?” he asks Stone.

The half-orc clambers to his feet and wipes smashed ghoul out of his eyes. “Yeah. Fine,” he says, and looks around the hallway. It is about ten feet wide and twice as long, and leads to a great stone door at the opposite end. Stone glances up to see if the rats are coming down through the trap door, but they are not. Just as with the stairs, they seem confined to the room above. 

Stone begins searching the ghoul corpse, while Chuck climbs partway back up the ladder. He sticks his arm carefully up through the middle of the trapdoor, and the rats do not reach him or attack him.

Across the room, Goldpetal sees a hand sticking up into the dark room, but he cannot see well enough to know if it is human or enemy. He quickly casts _flare_ into the middle of the room. A bright light, as though from a great bonfire, appears in the center of the room. 

The rats scatter away from the flare, and Hands of Fire sees the trap door. With the rats scattering from the flare, he starts to run across the room to the trap door. The rats are dazzled by the light, and do not attack him, so Goldpetal follows close on his heels. 

Meanwhile, Paks reaches the top of the tower, breathing hard. “Ghouls!” she shouts, as she pokes her head up the ladder onto the surface of the island. “Come help!” 

Miriel and Novalia hurry to their feet, grabbing their things, to follow her back down.

Telryn, still suffering from a concussion, is lying down. He props himself up on one elbow. “Should I come?” he asks weakly.

“No,” says Miriel. “Stay and rest. We may need you later.”

Underneath, in the corridor below the trap door, Stone tells Chuck, “Bring my sack.” Without waiting to see if the Vigilant obeys, the half-orc walks up to the stone door. The door is large, with a wheel carved in the stone, but over it some unholy symbol is marked in charcoal and blood. Chills run up his spine as he contemplates it. 

Chuck climbs partway up the ladder and sticks his head out, calling, “Bring Stone’s sack!” He reaches the top of the ladder just as Hands of Fire and Goldpetal get across the room. Hands of Fire, at a full run, leaps over Chuck and down the hole, where he lands gracefully on his feet. Stone whirls around at the sudden motion behind him, and is very impressed by the lizard man’s catlike balance. Goldpetal slips past Chuck, as Chuck comes up into the room with the rats.

Paks and Miriel begin to run down into the tower, while Novalia casts a spell on herself: _expeditious retreat_. She runs after the other two women, but, magically fleet of foot thanks to the spell, she quickly outpaces them. Miriel, wearing less armor, and not having run as far, also catches Paks and passes her as they follow Novalia below. 

Novalia reaches the top of the stairs. She sees the flare, the swarm of rats, and Chuck standing in the middle of it. He has some rope out, and is trying to figure out if he can construct a rope bridge above the rats while they are stunned. Seeing that he is unharmed, she bolts across the room and slips down the trapdoor. 

Miriel and Paks reach the bottom of the staircase and also start to run across the room. Miriel goes straight to the trapdoor and down through it, but Paks notices that the rats are not attacking her, so she stops to look around. 

When Miriel gets to the bottom, she asks, “Where are the ghouls?” 

Stone, who was listening at the stone door, turns and shakes his head. His face is gruesome, and Miriel gasps. The monk points to the mess on the floor, and Miriel and Novalia relax a bit. 

In the room with the rats, Chuck finds that there are no good supports to which he can tie a rope, especially on the trap-door side of the room, and he also realizes that his fifty-foot rope won’t stretch diagonally across a room which is fifty feet on a side. He abandons his rope bridge idea, and jogs back to the staircase to pick up Stone’s sack.

Paks steps over to some of the ruined crates and barrels. From the debris, she guesses that this was once a storeroom. Thinking that there might be something of value left in the crates, she grabs one of them and tries to pick it up. It falls apart under her touch. Anything once contained within has long since rotted. She checks one or two of the other crates, but they seem to be all likewise decayed.

The rats are beginning to get over being stunned, and are starting to nose around as though looking for food again. From the room underneath, Stone picks up the dead ghoul and throws it up through the trap door and into the rat’s room. Paks and Chuck start rushing across the room, as the rats begin to sniff at the ghoul corpse. As the flare expires, the rats begin to swarm over the corpse, devouring it. Chuck and Paks are the last two down the stairs.



“Here,” Chuck says, handing Stone the half-orc’s sack. 

“Thanks,” Stone says. He fishes in his pack and pulls out his flask of water. He washes his face with water from his sack, removing the last of the gore from his countenance. 

We’re all gathered in the twenty foot long corridor. It is freezing cold down at this level. Even those who have just completed the long run from the surface are chilly. The cold is beyond the normal chill one might expect from being underground, and seems to emanate from the stone door. 

Goldpetal begins knocking on the walls, looking for hidden doors, while Hands of Fire and Novalia watch back up the trap door. Miriel walks up to the stone door, and examines the blood and charcoal symbol. Stone and Paks accompany her.

“This is a symbol of Chern,” the priestess says, “And relatively freshly made.” 

“Be careful,” Paks warns her. “I’ve got a very bad feeling about all this. There is great evil, here.”

“I’ve seen a warding glyph,” Stone says, “Which looked something like that, but struck a priest dead when he tried to open it.”

“Good point,” Miriel says. “I’ll check.” She steps back, and casts detect magic on the door and the two symbols. “It’s not magical,” she says, “So it should be safe to open.”

Meanwhile, Goldpetal turns around. “It sounds hollow, here,” he says, “Perhaps there’s a secret door.” He knocks again, demonstrating the hollow spot and showing how it sounds different from the wall next to it. We all gather around to look, but nobody can find the trigger. 

Finally, Goldpetal looks at an empty torch bracket, off to the side of the door. He pulls on it. As soon as he does, a five-foot wide slab of stone slides open. He can see a rough-hewn passageway through it. It’s five feet wide, and leads off diagonally, away from the door with the symbol of Chern. 

Goldpetal draws his bow, and knocks an arrow. Without warning, he fires an arrow down the passage. It hits a wall at the end, and breaks.

“Shh!” Paks hisses, grabbing his arm and shaking her head. “That just made a sound, to warn anything down there that we’re coming.”

“We should explore it before we continue on,” he says. That suggestion meets with acclaim, and we begin preparing to go down the passage, making sure that we have two torches lit, and discussing what order to walk in. 

Miriel suggests, “Let’s close the trap door so the rats can’t come down.” As Chuck goes to take care of it, she adds, “Wedge it with a dead torch, so it can be opened more easily.”



Stone begins heading down the corridor, through the secret door. Paks and Goldpetal follow, with Hands of Fire, Miriel and Novalia behind them, and Chuck bringing up the rear.  The passage is quite long, winding around for about a hundred and twenty feet. Its width varies irregularly, but is never quite wide enough for two humans to walk abreast.

Finally, the corridor opens up into a big natural cavern, fifty feet wide. A large pool of deep, still water fills the room, with the nearest portion providing a small, rock beach. There are numerous stalactites and stalagmites, and even Stone’s eyes can’t see the other end of the cavern. 

Most of the group stays up the beach, near the mouth of the passage, looking around, but Chuck and Stone walk to the edge of the pool to examine the water. 

“It just looks like a pool of water,” Stone says.

Chuck holds his nose. “Yeah, with a great putrid stink,” he adds. Even those standing behind can smell the foulness of that water, and up close it is almost overpowering to Chuck’s human nostrils. The half-orc doesn’t seem bothered by it. He pulls out his ten-foot pole and pokes it into the water, disturbing the surface. 

As though in response, a giant crayfish climbs out of the water. It is taller than a man, and fully fifteen feet long, with the pink sheen of a lobster, and a hard, segmented external carapace. Two giant claws protrude in front of it, and it has beady black eyes and several thick waving feelers or antennae. It rushes out of the shallow water towards Stone and Chuck with lightning speed.

Stone yells out, “Butter!” but before either of them can react more than that, the crayfish grabs both of them, one with each claw. It pins each of them in a vise-like grip, and begins backing into the water, pulling them with it. 

Chuck pulls out his magical dagger, and stabs at the crayfish. The glowing blade slices through the hard pink exoskeleton of the giant beast, wounding it. Stone tries to pry open the claw, but the crayfish is much stronger than he is. It drags them both out over the water, and they can feel the water up to their knees already.

On shore, after a brief moment of consternation, Goldpetal, Paks, and Novalia all draw their bows and fire. Goldpetal and Paks hit the hard exoskeleton, and their arrows bounce harmlessly away. Novalia aims for the head and vulnerable eyes, but her shot whizzes narrowly over it.

Stone writhes around until he can get his feet close to its head, and aims a flurry of kicks at its head. One foot connects, breaking the carapace with a loud crunching sound. The crayfish looks stunned, and drops Stone. He lands in shallow water, about thigh deep, but the crayfish scuttles further back, dragging Chuck completely underwater.

Miriel rushes over to Stone. “Madriel, heal this man!” she shouts, and the healing powers course through her fingers, knitting Stone’s flesh beneath her hand.  

Hands of Fire dives into the lake. He swims after the crayfish, attacking it with his naked claws and teeth. He hits it with one claw, and bites it hard, in its vulnerable underbelly. It starts thrashing around in the water, and tries to attack him with its free claw, but the lizard man is a phenomenal swimmer, and dodges easily. 

In desperation, Chuck tries to stick his dagger in the claw joint. He gets the dagger in deep, and slices the claw completely off! The crayfish sinks into the water. 

Chuck pries his way out of the severed claw, and kicks himself up to the top of the water, but he’s injured and having trouble swimming. Stone rushes out to chest-high depth, and holds out the ten-foot pole towards him. The Vigilant is able to grab it with one arm, and Stone pulls him slowly back towards shore. Miriel helps him as soon as they reach her.

Hands of Fire swims down to the bottom, where he finds that the crayfish is dead. He swims back diagonally up towards shore, which he reaches about the same time as Chuck and Stone do.

“Here, lay down,” Miriel tells Chuck. “Let me look at that.” He has a bad wound, with one arm broken, but Miriel again begs the healing power of Madriel, and the bone knits beneath her fingers. 

“There,” she says, after several minutes. “That should do. Goldpetal, why don’t you give one healing potion to Paks and another to Chuck, so that they are distributed around the party better?” 

As Goldpetal distributes the healing potions, Miriel examines Chuck, Stone, and Hands of Fire for signs of disease. The first two are fine, but after examining Hands of Fire, she says, “I see a color in the eyes of Hands of Fire that makes me think he might have come down with Slimy Doom from swimming in the lake. Everyone to stay away from Hands of Fire, and stay away from the lake.” She repeats the instruction to the lizard man with hand gestures. 

Next, Miriel examines the lake water, which appears thoroughly defiled. 
Paks walks up behind her, and offers a small crystal vial filled with clear liquid. “Here,” she says. “I bought a vial of holy water at your temple. I think you should pour it into the lake and offer up Madriel's blessing.”

“Thank you,” Miriel says, “But I fear purifying this ill is beyond my abilities alone. Perhaps if we all help, we can manage something.” 

“It can’t hurt to try,” Goldpetal says.

“I’ll help,” Novalia offers.

“And I,” Paks says. “Though I’m not sure what help I will be.”

“We’ll stand watch,” Stone says, gesturing to Hands of Fire and Chuck. They stand guard over the others, and Chuck, who smells awful after his immersion in the lake, changes his clothes. The leather armor he wears may be beyond assistance, but at least his outer garments are fresh and clean.

Miriel, Goldpetal, Paks, and Novalia gather at the edge of the water, holding hands. They each close their eyes, and stand in silence for a moment. Then, Goldpetal begins to chant, and each of the others joins in. They each invoke their deities, Madriel, Denev, and Tanil, and ask them to purify the water. At first, each speech feels syncopated, out of rhythm, but the longer they work together, the more it begins to feel like a ritual, and a rhythm to their chant becomes clear even to those listening. It sounds almost like a song, and at the height, Miriel pours Paks’ holy water into the lake. 

After almost an hour, the ritual draws to a close. Again silence descends on the cavern, and the foursome open their eyes. Goldpetal looks around at each of the others, catching their gaze with his intense purple eyes. “I have a good feeling about that,” he says. 

Paks nods. “Me too.” 

Miriel takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and exhales with a sigh. “The lake doesn't smell as disease-ridden anymore,” she observes.

Goldpetal nods.

“I’ll need to rest before we go on,” Miriel says. 

“Let’s rest in that narrow corridor,” Paks says. “It should be easily defensible.”

“I think we’ll be safer if we go all the way back outside,” Novalia says. 

After a brief discussion, Stone, Chuck, and Paks all agree that the defensibility of the narrow corridor is best, and the other defer to the wisdom of their warriors. 

We make a quick campsite inside the corridor, with Stone and Hands of Fire watching at the lake entrance of the corridor. Paks and Chuck walk up to the secret door, and after a few minutes of examination, figure out how to open it from this side. Assured of a way out, Paks closes it, and the two of them remain near the door as guards. Miriel, Goldpetal, and Novalia rest after the exhausting ritual. 

About forty minutes into our rest, Hands of Fire grabs Stone. He cannot speak, but he makes it clear with hand gestures that he is feeling very unwell. Stone goes up to the door, and gets Chuck. Monk and Vigilant confer, but they decide not to disrupt Miriel, whose eyes are closed in silent meditation. They pantomime rest to Hands of Fire, who nods wearily, and lies down to sleep. Chuck shifts down to the lake side of the corridor, leaving Paks alone at the secret door.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

How did your characters set up the ritual?  I'm curious how the players went about playing it, and how much the DM was involved in making it happen.

Thanks,
GW


----------



## Amaroq

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> How did your characters set up the ritual?  I'm curious how the players went about playing it, and how much the DM was involved in making it happen.




As a party, we've actually done a lot of 'ritual casting', and its been mainly off-the-cuff. Remembering how close the Gods are to the world in the Scarred Lands (literally, they walked the earth as recently as 150 years ago, and it is not uncommon to hear tale of meeting one of their avatars even now), it feels very "in character" to make requests of the gods, even if we as players do not see a way for our characters to take care of something.

On this particular ritual, we debated a few particular spells, and finally decided that none of them were powerful enough. We went with some versions of _purify food and drink_, _remove disease_, and pouring holy water into the foul water. We play with a spell-point system, so our DM lets us expend spell-points in ritual casting without knowing if it will be effective or not. Declare in advance, and discover if the gods are pleased or not.  What Paks added to this one (besides holy water) wasn't clear, but it felt right to the characters for her to be included, especially after the experience with Stone and Madriel's Tear.

On some other ritual castings which we encounter later in the story-arc, (I can't wait until we're caught up!) the DM has on occasion handed people a note, saying, for example, "During your apprenticeship, you once experienced X ritual..." which gives us a better feeling for whether it will work or not.


----------



## joshwitz

Amaroq said:
			
		

> As a party, we've actually done a lot of 'ritual casting', and its been mainly off-the-cuff. Remembering how close the Gods are to the world in the Scarred Lands (literally, they walked the earth as recently as 150 years ago, and it is not uncommon to hear tale of meeting one of their avatars even now), it feels very "in character" to make requests of the gods, even if we as players do not see a way for our characters to take care of something.
> 
> On this particular ritual, we debated a few particular spells, and finally decided that none of them were powerful enough. We went with some versions of _purify food and drink_, _remove disease_, and pouring holy water into the foul water. We play with a spell-point system, so our DM lets us expend spell-points in ritual casting without knowing if it will be effective or not. Declare in advance, and discover if the gods are pleased or not.  What Paks added to this one (besides holy water) wasn't clear, but it felt right to the characters for her to be included, especially after the experience with Stone and Madriel's Tear.
> 
> On some other ritual castings which we encounter later in the story-arc, (I can't wait until we're caught up!) the DM has on occasion handed people a note, saying, for example, "During your apprenticeship, you once experienced X ritual..." which gives us a better feeling for whether it will work or not.




Just to add:  As far as mechanics go for rituals, we are using the ritual casting rules from R&R1, modified for the home-brew spell point sytem we use.

Ritual casting from R&R is pretty cool.  It makes sense that you can create more powerful versions of spells by taking extra time and/or combining powers.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #12: Under the Lake - Episode 3 of 5*

Four hours pass uneventfully as our exhausted spell-casters rest. Finally, when Goldpetal, Miriel, and Novalia have completed their meditation and rest, and are all ready to continue, Miriel examines Hands of Fire. 

The lizard man’s eyes are filmy and milky, and he feels warmer to her touch than she remembers. “That’s clearly Slimy Doom,” she says to Goldpetal, who is looking over her shoulder. “Here, drink this,” she instructs, and even if the lizard man doesn’t understand the words, he gathers the meaning as she gives him a potion of _cure disease_. He drinks the contents of the vial, and the magical elixir courses through his body. 

Miriel and Goldpetal turn from his care to re-examine the lake. They both concur that it looks much cleaner, and even the air above it smells better. Before they have even finished, Hands of Fire is on his feet, and joins them at the lakeside. He looks much better, almost completely recovered. He bends over the water’s edge, sniffs at it, and says something incomprehensible. Seeing the confusion on their faces, he gives the thumbs up gesture which Stone has taught him: it’s good. 

Everyone gathers their things, breaking camp, and shouldering their packs. They all walk back up the corridor to the secret door, where Paks awaits. She has no difficulty opening the secret door, and the stone wall slides silently before us, revealing the small chamber with the stone door. 

The room is ten feet wide by twenty long. A ladder at one end leads to a trap door, and from there into the rat-filled room above us, while at the opposite end, the stone door is defaced with the symbol of Chern, the Titan of plagues and disease, scrawled in blood and charcoal. The rune almost seems to move of its own accord in the flickering torchlight. It is still unnaturally cold in the hallway. 

When we are all gathered in the room, the secret door swings shut behind us. 

Miriel glances back at it. “Should we block it?”

“I wouldn’t,” Paks says. “It’s better to have it open in case we need to retreat in a hurry.”

“Okay,” Miriel concurs. “Let’s scrub the sigil of Chern off of this door.”

Miriel, Goldpetal, and Novalia set to that with a will, and quickly have all of the blood and charcoal scrubbed off. When the stone door is clean, leaving just the original carving of a wheel on its face, Miriel chalks a symbol of Madriel upon its surface instead. 

When their task is finished, Paks shivers. “I still don’t like the looks of this place,” she avows.

Everyone knows we are going through the door, and there is no need for further discussion. With firmness of purpose, we ready ourselves. Paks draws her longsword, and Goldpetal and Novalia ready their bows. Miriel grasps her holy symbol, while Hands of Fire stands at her side. Chuck and Stone brace themselves to open the door, expecting it to be heavy and difficult to move, but Stone swings it open easily. 

Beyond the door is another rough-hewn hallway, ten feet wide. After about twenty feet, it opens out to the left.

“Stone, can you see anything?” Chuck whispers.

“Just another pool of water,” Stone says. “Do you got the butter?” 

This elicits a soft, nervous laugh from Chuck and Paks. Behind them, Novalia utters the quick words of a prayer for _guidance_. Chuck and Stone remove their packs, and set them on the floor. Stone readies his ten-foot pole.

Half-orc and Vigilant walk carefully down the hallway, alert for danger and moving as silently as they can. The rest of us follow, near behind, and Paks’ chain mail makes a quiet metallic sound as she walks. We reach the opening to the left, and see a large room, perhaps twenty feet wide by thirty feet long. There is a shallow pool of standing water, and four sarcophagi. The lids of all four stone coffins have been disturbed: two are broken, while the others lie askew across about half of the coffin. The crypt is freezing, even colder than the hallway had been.

As Chuck steps across the threshold, the remaining lids crash to the ground. Three ghouls stand from their graves, and the smell of death and decay rolls across us in a wave. Everyone feels nauseous, and Chuck doubles over, vomiting upon the floor. He is helpless when the first two reach him, clawing with their strong arms. He is badly injured, and goes rigid. Paralyzed, he falls slowly to the ground. His torch falls in the water, and is extinguished, leaving only Miriel’s torch to illuminate the ghastly scene. The third ghoul attacks Stone, but he nimbly dodges backward. The ghoul lurches, off-balance, where the monk had just been, and Stone punches it with a flurry of blows. Both fists connect, and he injures it badly. Paks follows up with her longsword, and her sword drops a blow deep through its side, killing it.

Goldpetal shoots over Chuck’s body and wounds a second ghoul. Hands of Fire leaps over Chuck’s body, to attack the wounded ghoul. The other one bites him as he leaps past, ripping a large gash in his right thigh, and knocking the athletic lizard man off balance. He claws and bites at the wounded one, like an enraged animal, but he does not seem to injure it. The wounded ghoul attacks Hands of Fire, but the lizard man is much quicker, and sidesteps easily. 

The other one attacks Stone, and a claw rakes across the half-orc’s chest, paralyzing him. He, like Chuck, collapses to the cold ground, and the ghoul steps over him, snarling in defiance at Paks. Behind them, three more ghouls rush into the room from a passage on the far side. Now we face five of them, and two of our best fighters are paralyzed. 

Novalia pulls out a holy symbol of Tanil, steps up, and shouts “In the name of Tanil, be gone!” 

Miriel tries similarly, holding her holy symbol aloft. “In the name of Madriel, be gone!” She can feel the power of her goddess within her, and thinks for a moment that she has succeeded, but the ghouls seem strangely resistant, and the sight of the 
twin holy symbols buys only the briefest of hesitations from them.

Goldpetal takes advantage of that moment to drop his bow, draw his scimitar, and step around Paks. Standing over Chuck’s body, he swings at one of the closest ghouls, but it reaches one arm up, and catches his hand in its iron grip, stopping his blow in mid-swing. 

Hands of Fire gives way, stepping back, to stand beside the elf. He towers two full feet taller than the slight druid, but together they block the passage. The lizard man swings his great club at the closest ghoul, but misses, smashing it against the floor at his feet. Paks steps back from the front line. She pulls out a symbol of Madriel, and mimics Miriel. “In the name of Madriel, be gone!” she cries, but the ghouls ignore her.

The undead press their advantage of numbers, pushing us inexorably back as they attack. Hands of Fire parries one attack with his club. The wounded ghoul attacks Goldpetal, and claws him viciously across the chest. The elf, like so many of his comrades, collapses, paralyzed. Another ghoul steps towards Miriel. Hands of Fire tries to interpose himself, but he misses it with his club, and it pushes him aside, reaching for Miriel. Its claw gives her the merest of scratches, but her face freezes in horror as she, too, becomes paralyzed and falls. Her torch flickers on the ground, but rolls up against the wall, where it continues to burn.

Only Hands of Fire, Paks, and Novalia remain, and five ghouls stand over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Novalia looses her first bowshot of the fight, striking one in the head. The arrow goes right through its head, a blow which would have surely killed a human, but its undead animation does not live in the brain, and it presses on. 

Paks steps in front of Novalia, and holds the holy symbol high above her head. “Madriel! Tanil! Hear my plea! Be gone, foul things!” Amazingly, the holy symbol comes alive, shining with a white light. As that holy radiance illuminates the room, all of the ghouls turn and flee from her! Hands of Fire swings his club at one of the wounded ones, but they shamble quickly out of his range, and he does not connect. The ghouls disappear through a hallway on the far left side of the room. 

After a moment of surprise, Novalia grabs Miriel and drags her back into the hallway. Paks grabs Stone, while Hands of Fire takes Chuck in one hand and the slightly built Goldpetal in the other. The three survivors drag their comrades back out through the large stone doors.

Paks pushes the stone doors closed, and braces herself against it. “By the gods!” she exclaims, astonished and breathing hard. “I didn’t think that would work!”

“It may not work for long,” Novalia says. “Let’s keep moving.” 

Paks nods, and bends over her fallen comrades. She takes Stone and Miriel’s daggers, and wedges them underneath the big stone door, trying to wedge it closed. Novalia, looking over the wounds, sees that Chuck and Hands of Fire are the worst injured, and she begs Tanil for healing for them. Her god grants her plea, and though she is not as powerful a healer as Miriel, the worst of their bleeding wounds close under her touch.

Novalia watches the big door with bow drawn and arrow knocked, while Paks opens the secret door. As a great pounding begins against the large stone door, Paks and Hands of Fire drag their four paralyzed friends into the narrow secret corridor. When everyone is behind the secret door, Novalia slips through and closes it. 



Even through the secret door, we can hear the loud pounding of the ghouls bashing against the wedged stone door. Paks, Hands of Fire, and Novalia, all wait, tense, weapons ready, between their comrades’ bodies and the secret door. The tableau holds for several nerve-wracking minutes.

Finally, Stone and Goldpetal start to move. Stone sites up. “What’s that pounding?” he asks.  

“The ghouls,” Paks says.

Goldpetal stumbles to his feet, and slips past her to the door. He is still unsteady on his feet, and when he tries to listen at the door, he stumbles against it and bruises his ear. He still looks a little queasy from the noxious stench of the ghouls. 

After a moment of rubbing his ear, the elf turns over to Chuck’s pack, and begins rummaging around in it.

“What are you doing?” Paks asks quietly.

“I want to see if I can get rid of the duck without touching it,” he says. 

“There’s an extra shirt in my pack,” she offers, gesturing to the pack she has set deeper down the corridor. 

As he opens her pack, we hear a loud reverberating stone crash. The pounding noise has abruptly stopped.

“I think the other door just opened,” Paks says, turning to face the secret door. Stone steps up between the party and the door, with Hands of Fire and Paks at his back.

Meanwhile, Goldpetal wraps the duck in the shirt, and takes it out of Chuck’s pack. Novalia starts dragging Chuck further down the corridor, both to relative safety and to make sure he is out of the way. Goldpetal disappears out of sight down the corridor. A loud splash follows shortly, and we can only presume that he has thrown the duck as deep into the lake as he can.

Another minute passes. Novalia finishes dragging Chuck to the beach in the cavern, and helps Goldpetal drag Miriel to that relative safety as well.

Stone, listening at the door, shakes his head, and turns back to face Hands of Fire and Paks. “I don’t hear anything,” he says.

“Maybe they went up the ladder,” Paks suggests.

The half-orc gives a firm nod, and turns back to the door. He shouts, “Hey! We’re in here!” as loud as he can. He pounds on the door for added noise. He then turns over his shoulder and says to Paks, “I think we can take ’em, one at a time.” She shrugs, face impassive, but sheathes her sword and draws her bow.

He continues listening carefully at the door, and whispers, “I can hear them climbing back down the ladder.” Another minute passes, as adrenaline courses through our bodies, and we stand taut and ready for any action. The ghouls are not opening the door. Stone shouts helpfully, “The torch handle!”

As Miriel starts to move, the ghouls finally figure out how to open the secret door. They rush in through the secret door, and are forced into a single-file line by the narrow confines of the corridor. 

As the first ghoul reaches him, Stone punches it with a flurry of blows. One fist connects hard, crushing the ghoul’s skull, and it collapses at his feet. Paks shoots her bow past Stone at the next ghoul in line, but in the dark and narrow confines, it’s a tough shot, and she misses. 

The second ghoul rushes Stone, but he steps back out of its way, giving ground a little. Hands of Fire throws his javelin over Stone’s head, but it bounces harmlessly off the ceiling. Miriel and Goldpetal have re-entered the corridor, and arrive at the back of the group. Back at the beach, Novalia guards Chuck, who is still paralyzed, and asks Tanil for _guidance_ again. 

As soon as she sees the situation, Miriel begins a quick incantation. Suddenly, a _sound burst_ echoes in the air in front of us, and in the narrow confines the explosive noise rings in all of our ears. Stone and Hands of Fire are deafened, but the two lead ghouls are stunned. 

Stone attacks the first ghoul, a solid punch to the head which has clearly wounded it. Paks shoots at it, and her arrow buries itself in the ghoul’s chest. It falls to the ground and Stone’s feet, returned to death. The second ghoul back, the first one that isn’t stunned, leaps forward to attack Stone. It slips on the bodies of the two ghouls in front of him, and stumbles heavily into the stone wall. Stone kicks it while it’s down, smashing it hard, but it struggles back to its feet. 

Miriel fires off another _sound burst_ and the explosive noise actually kills the first ghoul, which Stone had wounded. It slumps to the ground with the bodies of its comrades. Paks, too, is deafened, and the explosive sounds ring painfully in the ears of those who can still hear.

The remaining two ghouls are stunned, and clearly wounded. Stone steps to the side of the corridor, and waits for the ghouls to come to him. He’s balanced on the balls of his feet, clearly enjoying himself. 

Hands of Fire loses patience with waiting, and muscles past Stone. He charges towards the closest ghoul, but forgets how short the corridor is. His club bounces off the ceiling, and his momentum carries him up to the stunned ghoul. The one effective fighting ghoul attacks him from behind, hitting him with claw and tooth. The lizard man collapses, paralyzed like the others had been earlier. However, the ghoul trips over him and falls.

Stone rushes over the fallen ghoul and kicks the stunned ghoul, a firm blow which knocks it from its knees to a prone position on its back.  

Behind him, Paks steps up to the ghoul which tripped. As it tries to stand, balancing unevenly against the wall, she chops its head off with her longsword.  

Stone stomps on the head of the one which he knocked down. “You ain’t so tough!” he yells. “Get up, damn you!” 

After a moment, it is clear that none of the ghouls will ever be getting back up, and Stone calms down. He calls back down the corridor, “It’s over!”



Within a minute, everyone's hearing has recovered, and Chuck is beginning to move. When he has recovered enough to sit up, he stands, and staggers past Novalia. It takes one hand on the wall to keep his balance, but he begins working his way up the corridor. He angrily calls out, "Goldpetal, damn your black heart! What kind of camaraderie is this?  I’m paralyzed, and you steal my duck?” 

Goldpetal walks calmly down the corridor towards him, and says, “You have been enchanted.” His voice contains all of the placid firmness of a druid more than a hundred years old, but Chuck, in his rage, refuses to be calmed.

“Sure, I was, but you stole my powers!” he yells. His hand strays to the hilt of his sheathed long sword. “I’ll never trust you again! Dirty little elf!" 

Goldpetal stands before him, implacably. “The enchantment was not good for you.”

Rage contorts the Vigilant’s face, and just as he begins to draw his sword, Miriel steps between the two of them. “Calm down,” she says. “Calm down.” Chuck pauses with six inches of naked steel displayed, but the majority of the blade still sheathed. Behind him, Miriel can see Novalia at the end of the corridor. She has her bow drawn, and an arrow knocked, but pointed at the floor.

Back up the corridor, Stone says to Paks, “I hate elves. Actually, they’re not so bad, with a little ketchup.” 

Chuck is breathing hard, and staring past Miriel at the elf with hate etched in his face. Miriel repeats herself one more time, “Okay, calm down,” as though speaking to one of the horses at her father’s inn.

Chuck suddenly turns on her. “You let him steal my duck!” he shouts.

Miriel gives him a look as though he’s crazed. “I was paralyzed!” she says, indignant. 

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” Chuck seems to be calming down a bit. Then, he drops to his knees and throws his head back, hands covering his face in clear anguish. “But… my duck!” he wails.

Stone comes down to commiserate with him. “That was a cool duck, too,” he says, putting one arm around a shoulder. Miriel kneels with Chuck and holds him as he sobs wordlessly into her shoulder. 

Back at the head of the corridor, Hands of Fire stands up. He looks as though he might walk down towards the commotion, but Paks puts out a restraining hand, and they wait in the corridor.

After a minute or two has passed, it seems that Chuck is quieting. Miriel continues to hold him until the sobs have ceased, talking to him all the while. 

Finally, when he is finished, she stands up and offers her hand to him. “Let’s go fight the ghouls,” she offers. “They did a lot of damage to us. They’re our enemies, not each other.” 

“My duck...” Chuck says, sadly, still on his knees. He is staring at the ground, and the tone of his voice conveys absolute heartbreak.

“Chuck,” Paks calls quietly from the top of the corridor. “The ghouls might have another duck.” 

Chuck looks up, his face alight. Voice full of hope, he asks, “Another duck?”

He rises to his feet, shoulders past Goldpetal, and goes to find his pack. He checks through it carefully, as though to make sure nothing else is gone.

While the Vigilant looks through his things, Miriel turns to Paks. “I didn’t know you carried a holy symbol of Madriel. Where did you get it?” she asks.

Paks gives her an odd, unfathomable look. “Milo gave it to me,” she says after a moment, “When I dropped him off in the wilderness, after we expelled him from the party.”

Miriel looks as though she’s about to ask a further question, but then she closes her mouth and gathers up her other things.

“Let’s push on,” Miriel says.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #12: Under the Lake - Episode 4 of 5*

We begin to gather our things, and Miriel checks over the party members for injury. Most of us have been wounded, either by the stirges or the ghouls, but nobody is weakened enough to consider stopping. We’re ready for more. There is a sense of purpose and drive as we gird ourselves to push onward.

We pick our way back through the narrow corridor, stepping gingerly over the bodies of the ghouls. A foul smell comes off of their bodies, and it still makes us all nauseous to be anywhere close to them.

We go back through the hallway, closing the secret door behind us, and through the great stone door. The oppressive feel of evil is evident to all of us, and the air grows ever colder the further we progress past the stone door.

We reach the crypt where we met the ghouls. Their coffins stand empty, now. Novalia stands watch with her bow drawn, while the rest of us look around the room. The room is filthy and defiled, piled high with trash, and the walls are covered in graffiti. The lids of the sarcophagi have been torn off. Most of them are smashed and broken on the floor, and only one remains whole. The small pool also smells foul, and it looks like there may be pieces of rotting flesh in it. 

Stone pokes at it with the 10 foot pole. It looks shallow, and he’s surprised when it turns out to be much deeper than that. “It’s really deep, guys,” he says, with the pole extended most of the way into the water. “I still haven’t hit bottom.”

Miriel looks around with growing concern. Noting that the group is dispersing – Paks is about to start searching the sarcophagi, and Chuck is looking anxiously down one of the two corridors we haven’t explored – she commands, “Stop, everyone.” When everyone is halted, and paying attention to her, she explains. “I think there’s a real danger of catching disease from this offal. Let’s perform another cleansing ritual, remove all of that graffiti, and clean up this trash.”

“That will take a couple of hours,” Goldpetal protests. “What is the point?”

“We have to remove this source of disease,” Miriel says. 

“I’m not sure that’s necessary,” Goldpetal says. “Surely this is an effect of the disease we are here to fight, not the source.”

While they debate, Stone goes over to look down hallway on the right side. He sees that the filth does not continue down that way, and it opens into another cavern. He goes around to look down the left corridor with Chuck. After a short passage, he can see more open and damaged sarcophagi. He comes back to tell the others what he’s found. “Down the right side, there’s a cave,” he says, “And to the left, more coffins. Let’s press on.”

“I think we need to perform the purification ritual before we move on,” Miriel says.

“I agree,” Paks says. 

Novalia nods, and Goldpetal agrees reluctantly. Paks turns to the others and tells them, “Chuck, Stone, Hands of Fire, you guys watch the corridors while the rest of us do the purifying ritual again.”

Miriel, Novalia, Paks, and Goldpetal gather in a circle, and begin chanting the names of their patrons, Madriel, Denev, and Tanil. Chuck and Stone each watch one of the new corridors, while Hands of Fire watches behind us. 

About ten minutes into the ritual, just as the four participants have pulled up a powerful magical energy, Chuck sees something in the room he’s watching, a brief hint of movement caught out of the corner of his eye. He’s at the left-most passage, the one with the trash and more damaged sarcophagi. He waits for something more visible before he says anything.

Suddenly, a tall humanoid appears in front of him, flanked by three ghouls. The creature’s skin is deathly pale white, almost translucent, and the bone beneath that unearthly skin is clearly visible. His eyes glow with an unnatural reddish light. He is wearing what must have been at one time exquisite robes and a jeweled crown. His hands are twisted claws with long nails and he has just wisps of hair hanging down from his skull. 

“Who dares to say those names in my lair?” the undead king demands, in a deep, booming voice. “How dare you defile my sanctum? You will serve me for all eternity!” 

Paks breaks the circle, drawing her sword to stand behind Chuck. The others in the chant feel the power break and disperse, lashing uncontrolled into the room, though there is no visible repercussion. 

The crowned humanoid claws at Chuck, but he steps back into line with 

Stone leaps over the sarcophagi, flipping and rolling, also arriving just behind Chuck. Hands of Fire runs over next to Paks as the crowned humanoid claws at Chuck. The Vigilant steps back into line with his comrades, drawing his bow, and the four of them stand shoulder-to-shoulder to face the greater evil.

With the power of the ritual dispersed, Miriel pulls out Madriel’s Tear, and holds it aloft above her head, with her other hand wrapped around her holy symbol. “Madriel, banish this evil!” she calls, stepping towards the king. She feels no reaction, no power in either the Tear or her holy symbol. 

The crowned humanoid laughs maniacally. Goldpetal leaps up on a sarcophagus and draws his bow, and Novalia climbs atop another. Chuck fires off two shots at the crowned humanoid. One arrow buries itself into his shoulder, but his evil laughter intensifies. He pulls out the arrow and breaks it in one hand. “Pathetic,” he says, as though commenting on our efforts.

The three ghouls rush at us. One of the ghouls leaps forward and bites Chuck, and again he collapses, paralyzed, his bow still held rigidly in his hands. Another ghoul tries to slide past Stone, but he punches it, hitting it hard as it attacks Hands of Fire. Stone’s blow knocks it off balance, and it misses the lizard man.  Paks’ sword rings off the stone wall beside it, narrowly missing. 

Stone punches at two of the ghouls next to him. He misses the first, but hits the injured one. The force of his blow slams it back against the wall, and it collapses. Hands of Fire steps forward to attack the other one, bashing it forcefully with his great club. 

Miriel casts a _sound burst_ on the three undead creatures. The explosion of noise kills the injured ghoul, but the crowned humanoid is not even stunned. Goldpetal and Novalia unleash their arrows. Goldpetal’s hits him, while Novalia’s shot misses. 

Ignoring the arrows and the spell, the undead king advances on us. The very air becomes colder around him. The last ghoul follows him as he steps up to Hands of Fire. The spectral king attacks Hands of Fire, clawing him with his arms. His strength is unnatural, incredibly stronger than a human, and he slams the seven-foot-tall lizard man hard into the wall. Hands of Fire looks very cold and weak, and the crowned humanoid seems to grow more powerful. He laughs evilly again, as the lizard man slumps to the cold ground.

The ghoul lurking behind the ghost king tries to slide past Stone, and he punches it, killing it with a single blow. It falls to the ground next to Hands of Fire.

Paks steps up before the sepulchral figure, and yells, “Madriel, help me!” She brings her longsword down in a great overhand swing, and smites the crowned humanoid with a tremendous blow. Her sword bites deep into his shoulder, and the sound of breaking bones is audible. He is clearly wounded, now, and his left arm hangs at an unnatural angle.

Stone sees the opening, and tumbles past his left arm. The undead king claws at the monk as he passes, but the wound prevents him from connecting. As Stone comes to his feet, he kicks at the creature’s knees, but he misjudged the tumble, and rolled just out of reach.

Miriel runs up to Hands of Fire, who lies bleeding on the floor, and begins pulling him back out of the fray. He is too heavy to carry far, but she gets him out from under Paks’ feet. Novalia leaps down beside her, and cries, “Tanil, heal thy ally!” She lays her hands upon him. The worst of the bleeding stops, but his body feels icy cold beneath her touch, and he remains unconscious. 

The spectral king has turned his back on the main group, to face Stone, and Goldpetal has a clear shot at him. His arrow bites deep into the creature’s back. The monarch screams in pain, whirling around to face the elf. “I’ll get you!” he yells.

He leaps at Paks, clawing at her with his good right arm. She steps forward into his blow, blocks his arm with her shield, and thrusts her sword deep into his chest. His momentum carries him almost to the hilt, and then he freezes, staring deep into her eyes. His red eyes glow with an unnatural intensity.

The tableau holds for a second which feels like eternity. He grinds out, “I curse you all in the name of Chern,” in a deep, ragged voice. Paks lowers the point of her sword, and he slides back off of it, to fall on his back. The unnatural light fades from his eyes, and they close as he goes limp upon the ground. 

There is another moment of silence, and then Paks steps to his shoulder. With a single, sharp blow, she cuts off his head.

“Thank you, Madriel,” Miriel prays under her breath.

Stone turns around, as his tumble had taken him into another room. He looks around, and sees another cavern, a little smaller than the first, with four more broken sarcophagi. There is another tunnel leading out of the cavern from the far side. “The tunnels go on,” he says, gesturing.

“Let’s get out of this cavern system,” Miriel suggests, “Until Chuck wakes up. I’m exhausted. I need to sleep, and meditate.”

Hands of Fire is just well enough to stumble along with a supporting arm from Miriel. Stone and Paks drag Chuck, who is still paralyzed. Goldpetal leads, and Novalia brings up the rear, both keeping their bows knocked and ready. We make our way back through the caverns, and into the corridor leading to the underground lake. 

We move the dead ghouls up into the next room, and shut the secret door behind us. Novalia heals Paks and Goldpetal, while Miriel heals Chuck. After several minutes, the paralyzation wears off and the young Vigilant is able to move again, but Hands of Fire remains chilled and weak.  

We rest as before, rotating guard duty between Chuck, Paks, and Stone. An oppressive stillness settles over the caverns.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #12: Under the Swamp - Episode 5 of 5*

The uneasy quiet continues, broken only once by some sort of splash in the water of the lake below us. When Chuck goes to examine it, he sees ripples on the surface of the water, but there is no sign of a cause. He backs up the corridor to a point where he can watch the entrance, between the sleepers and the water.

Aside from that, six hours pass without interruption. When we awake, rested but still disquieted, Goldpetal tells Paks, “I think I have a way to restore the strength the stirges stole from you. It is a spell my mentor cast often. I have never cast it myself, but I think it is now within my grasp.”

She acquiesces, and he casts _lesser restoration_ for the first time. When she picks up her shield and buckles it on her left arm, a big smile crosses her face. “Yes, that feels much better,” she says. “Thank you.”

Miriel tends to Hands of Fire’s wounds, healing him back from the brink of collapse. The lizard man feels warmer to her fingers, as though the dread cold touch of the phantasmal monarch has begun to wear off. 

Again, we gather our belongings, and unseal the secret door to re-enter the crypts for the third time. We move through the first chamber, putrid and disease-ridden, to find the body of the crowned humanoid where we had left it, in the mouth of the passage towards the second chamber. 

Miriel and Goldpetal examine it. The air around it is still noticeably colder than the rest of the crypt, but the eyes on the decapitated head remain lifeless and closed. “I think it’s a wight,” Miriel says.

“What is that?” asks Chuck.

“A powerful form of undead,” the priestess explains, “Who would have sucked the life from us and turned us into wights as well, had he killed us.”

“Shall we perform the purification ritual again?” asks Novalia.

“Yes,” Miriel answers. She, Goldpetal, Paks, and Novalia again gather in a circle to perform the purification ritual. The power of Madriel, Denev, and Tanil builds in the room, and a holy light radiates from the foursome as they chant and sing. Their guardians see no outside movement, and though it takes fully two hours, this time they are able to complete the ritual undisturbed. 

When they have returned to silence and open their eyes, the room feels much better. The oppressive evil feel has diminished, as has the unnatural cold. Miriel, Chuck, and Novalia turn their efforts to scrubbing the graffiti off of the walls, while Paks and Stone search the room. A thorough search reveals nothing, and within half an hour the walls are scrubbed clean and white. 

Paks moves to the mouth of each of the two corridors which we haven’t explored. She stands in front of the one to the right, the opposite one from where the wight had come, and says, “This direction feels less evil to me.” 

We follow her down that corridor, and it opens into a smaller cavern, perhaps twenty feet in diameter. In the center is a single sarcophagus, intact. There’s another exit at the far left corner. Chuck walks over to guard this new corridor while the others examine the room. He sees another long, dark corridor, curving off to the left.

Miriel steps to the sarcophagus, looking at it closely. Carved in the white slab atop it is the symbol of the wheel, as we had seen on the door, and below that the sun-symbol of Madriel.

“Should we open the sarcophagus?” asks Paks, looking over her shoulder.

“No,” Miriel tells the young warrior. “It hasn’t been defiled, so we should leave it alone.”

Paks gives a curt nod, and joins Chuck at the new entrance. “It feels very evil,” she says. “This is where the evil is coming from.”

Stone pushes between them, and starts walking down the corridor without a word. The rest of us follow, hands ready on holy symbols or the hilts of weapons. 

Fifty feet down the corridor, we reach another rough-walled cavern. This is a circular room, about forty feet in diameter. The first thing to catch our eye is a large pile of coins in the center of the room, all heaped together. There is a hideous shrine against one wall, and opposite it is a large wooden throne. On the far wall, across the cavern, is another exit. We can all feel the oppressive power of evil, now.

As Stone is about to enter the room, Paks holds Stone back. He pauses, in mid-step, and looks at her. “What?” he asks. She shakes her head uncertainly. 

They wait for a moment, looking around the room. There is movement at the shrine, and on further examination it is covered with rotting flesh. Maggots writhe all through it, though there are no flies in the air. Scrawled all over the walls is more of the evil blood-and-offal graffiti which we have seen so much of. The only things moving in the room are the maggots.  

Stone and Paks step cautiously across the threshold, but nothing happens. They cross the room to look at the shrine, against the right hand wall. It smells awful. 

Chuck steps in and looks up at the ceiling, perhaps remembering the great spider we fought a month earlier, but he doesn’t see anything extraordinary. Novalia enters next, her bow drawn. There are no targets to aim it at. Hands of Fire strides purposefully across the room to guard the other exit. 
Miriel and Goldpetal, last to enter the room, move over to the shrine. They examine it under the watchful eyes of Stone and Paks, who clearly suspect a trap of some sort. 

“It’s evidently a shrine to Chern,” Miriel says. “It’s a very rough shrine, which implies that perhaps the undead might have put together.”

“This meat is a month or two old,” Goldpetal observes. “All of the graffiti here is Titan speech. It mostly consists of invocations to Chern.”

“Don’t touch any of it,” Miriel warns. “It’s likely to carry disease, and those maggots might prefer living flesh to rotting.” 

She turns to examine the pile of treasure. It looks like it consists mostly of platinum and gold. “This might be an offering,” she says.

Chuck examines the throne. It’s just an old wooden chair, and it looks like one of the cross-supports is broken half through. He chuckles to himself.

“We should clean up this foul graffiti,” Miriel says, “Destroy the shrine, and perform the purify ritual again.”

“Before you do,” Chuck says, “Let’s _detect magic_ here.”

Miriel obligingly begins the ritual, praying to Madriel to reveal the aura of any magic in the room. When the incantation is complete, she looks around the room. After a moment’s concentration, she says, “The shrine is somewhat magic, but it looks like nothing else is.”

“What about the pile of gold?” asks Stone. “Something might be under it.”

We circle around the pile, weapons at the ready, and Stone scatters it with the 10-ft pole. There are thousands of coins there, but only the top layer was platinum and gold; the rest are mostly copper. 

“Let’s clean this up,” Miriel says. We set to that cleansing again, with Hands of Fire and Stone watching the entrances to ensure that we aren’t surprised. We clean up the graffiti and the spilled coins, picking up any coins larger than a copper piece. As we clean, Novalia finds an excellent longsword, marked with the same wheel symbol we’ve observed before. 

Finally, we turn to the shrine. Goldpetal, Miriel, Novalia, and Paks again perform the purification ritual, taking special care to purify the meat. While they work, Chuck counts the coins.

After perhaps two hours of work, and three more of ritual casting, the spell is complete. Paks opens her eyes, and smiles. “The room feels significantly less evil,” she says. 

“Definitely,” concurs Novalia. The foursome squeeze each others’ hands before releasing their circle.

Miriel casts _detect magic_ again. “There’s no magic left here,” she says. “And that sword isn’t magical, either.”

“Drat,” Chuck says, looking longingly at it. “But we did find 77 platinum, 235 gold, and 1340 silver pieces.”

“Excellent,” Paks says. “Shall we move on?”

“There’s something I want to do,” Stone says. He smashes the remnants of the shrine with three sure kicks. On the other side of the room, Chuck smashes the wooden throne.

When they are finished, we move into the next room. It is another cavern, about forty feet in diameter. There are four more broken sarcophagi there, lids smashed, but a careful examination reveals that their occupants are no longer present. 

Stone looks at the exit, again a passage at the opposite left side of the room. “It makes a circle,” he says, gesturing. It is obvious what he means – there must be five or six small chambers, connected by passages, but eventually we will circle back where we started. 

This room, we haven’t been in before, so the walls are covered with graffiti. Paks, Miriel, and Goldpetal set to work cleaning it off the wall. There is less offal, or perhaps their previous spells have already cleansed it, so they do not feel a need to perform another ritual.

As they work, Chuck searches the sarcophagi. In one, he finds a silver dagger. It is set with an opal on the pommel.

Tossed in a corner under some refuse, Novalia finds a piece of paper. She smiles as she looks at it. “Guys,” she calls out. “Come take a look. I think I found a scroll.”

Miriel takes a break from scrubbing, and comes over. “Can I see?” she asks.
Novalia hands over the scroll, and Miriel studies it for a few minutes. “It’s a magic scroll,” she concludes, “In divine religious writing.”  After a few more minutes, she whistles softly to herself, and begins rolling the scroll up again. “It’s a divine scroll,” she says, “Which allows a good cleric to cast two spells, _protection from evil_, and _searing light_. The caster was much more advanced in his powers than I am currently.” 

Miriel finishes rolling up the scroll, and stows it in her pack. She looks around hopefully, and asks, “Does anybody see any other signs of Madriel?”

“What about opening the other sarcophagus?” Paks asks, referring to the unopened coffin we found, which had Madriel’s symbol on it.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Miriel says.

“Maybe Madriel has placed it here for a reason,” Paks offers optimistically, “For us to find, now.”

“That’s certainly possible,” Miriel says. “Let me meditate on it a little.”

Since they have finished cleansing the room, we are ready to move on, and the unexplored corridor leads back to the first room, as Stone had predicted. Miriel and Paks press further on, returning to the unopened sarcophagus to meditate. The others follow, and stand watch over them.

Miriel opens her eyes. “I’m getting no guidance on this,” she says.

“Let’s open it,” Stone suggests, “Take the contents, and inter them in a less evil place.”

“I wouldn’t,” Goldpetal says. 

“Let’s open it,” the half-orc repeats, ignoring the elf. Paks and Chuck nod in agreement.

Chuck, Stone, Paks, and Hands of Fire gather on the four corners of the sarcophagus to lift the lid. 

“Madriel, bless us,” Miriel invokes, “No desecration is intended, let none occur,” she chants, as the others lift the lid.

Within, we find an old skeleton. It wears a beautiful golden armor, with a wonderful sword and shield. All are marked with the wheel symbol, and still shining and clean. Our torches reflect off of them. There are also two vials in beside the corpse. It looks so serene and holy that none of us reach into it to disturb its slumber.

Miriel quietly casts _detect magic_. “The potions are magic,” she says, “But the armor and weapons are not.”

The armor and weapons are the sort a king would use in battle. “That’s the best armor I’ve ever seen,” Paks whispers under her breath, looking at it longingly. She’s clearly imagining herself wearing it, riding a mighty steed, and leading the charge of some great, righteous army.

Stone starts putting the lid back in place. Hands of Fire and Chuck help him, and Miriel invokes Madriel again. When the lid is closed, Miriel consecrates the sarcophagus.

As we walk back out, we walk past the corpse of the wight. Stone kicks the head, and that kick separates the golden crown from the head. It rolls around noisily, settling, as a coin does, with a metallic ring against the stone. It is gorgeous, and Chuck bends down to pick it up. 

“Look,” he says, “It also has the wheel symbol on it.”

“Let’s take it back to the sarcophagus,” Miriel suggests. 

Stone takes it from Chuck, and points out, “It couldn’t have come out of the sarcophagus. It hadn’t been opened.”

“It could have been laid on top of the sarcophagus,” Novalia says, “As an honor.”

Miriel casts _detect magic_ on the crown. “It’s not magic,” she says. “Should take it?”

“Yes,” Stone says, and sticks it in his bag. 

“We should take everything from the skeleton,” Paks says, with a longing wonder in her voice.

Miriel looks at her, and in a stern voice says, “That’s grave robbing.”

“No,” Paks counters, “Madriel clearly protected those items for us.”

Chuck cuts in. “I don’t think grave robbing is wrong,” he says. “The dead have no use for material things.”

Goldpetal says, with the weight of authority in his voice, “It is disturbing to rob this particular grave.” 

“We can put the bones back where they were,” Chuck says.

“We would be robbing not just this grave,” Goldpetal says, “But the last heritage of this great empire.” 

“Is it not worse,” Chuck asks, “To leave it to rot under a stinking pile of refuse?” 

“I will have no part in this,” Miriel says, and begins walking back up towards the stairs. Hands of Fire follows her.

“Nor I,” says Novalia. 

Goldpetal looks as though he is ready to fight anybody who defiles the grave, and Paks sighs aloud. “Come, Chuck. They are right.” 

We walk away without taking the items from the grave, but we do take the crown. There’s not much of a choice, on that, since Stone is clearly unwilling to give it up. 



As we’re walking out through the corridor with the secret door, Chuck grabs the torch holder, and opens the secret door. 

“What are you doing?” Goldpetal demands.

“I need to go look at the lake!” he shouts, and runs off down the corridor. 

Miriel and Stone give chase, and we all follow after him. Miriel catches up to him at the edge of the lake, where he is frantically stripping off his armor. 

Miriel grabs his arm. “Stone,” she cries, “Hold him!” 

Stone grabs him and holds him tight. 

“I want my duck!” Chuck cries, in a despairing wail.

“It’s an evil duck,” Paks tells him firmly.

“No!” Chuck yells. He begins to struggle, and gets one arm free. He slaps Miriel with the back of his hand. It leaves Stone with no choice but to subdue him.

The half-orc head-butts Chuck, but though he connects heavily, the Vigilant struggles on. Miriel casts _hold person_, trying to immobilize Chuck, but it doesn’t work. Chuck squirms and wriggles, trying to break free of Stone’s firm grasp. Finally, Stone has little choice but to head-butt him again, knocking him out. 

“Grab a rope out of his pack,” Miriel tells Stone, “And tie him up.” Stone does his best to tie Chuck, although Chuck is our expert at binding the unwilling. Hands of Fire carries the big sack of gold which we have found, while Stone carries Chuck. Paks picks up Chuck’s leather armor.

Goldpetal climbs halfway up the ladder to the third floor, which he finds is still covered in rats. He casts _flare_ in the center of the room, above the rats. As before, they scatter, fleeing from the sudden bright light, and we all run across the room safely. 

The next two levels are easy to cross, and we make our upstairs and out to the boat, where we find Telryn safely asleep.



It is dawn on the second day of Madrer, Madraday. Miriel is just in time to perform her holiest of rituals, greeting the sun on the sun-goddess’ holiest day. As she finishes the ritual, the sun breaks across her face, and it seems as though she is illuminated in the light of her patron. Her red hair, normally a dark red, gleams in the sunlight like a flame. It seems as though even her peacock cloak, tattered and dirtied by the lengthy trip through the swamp, is somehow repaired and cleaned, though none of us have seen her sewing.
When she is finished, we wake Telryn, and all climb aboard the boat. Stone and Hands of Fire row us across the lake.

Throughout the short boat ride, Paks stares wistfully back over the stern of the boat. Goldpetal notices, and lays a compassionate hand. “You did the right thing,” he assures her.

Just before we land, Chuck wakes up. Hiding his wakefulness, he slithers free of the not-very-well-tied rope. As we beach, and Stone pulls the boat to shore, Chuck leaps from the boat with his hand on his sword.

He is angry again, this time with Stone, shouting, “Titan-cursed half-orc! You’re no better than the elf!”

“The duck has some sort of hold over you,” Miriel says. “Calm down.”

“It’s calling me,” he whispers miserably.

“Resist,” Goldpetal says firmly.

Amazingly, Chuck does resist the urge to go back for his duck, and we march back through the swamp to the lizard man camp, led by Hands of Fire. 

As we travel, Stone begins to look ill. The further we travel, the more ill he appears, and finally, when he stops and vomits, Miriel calls for the party to halt. She examines him and finds him feverish. She gives him the other potion of _cure disease_. He drinks it, and almost vomits again, but finds that he is able to keep it down. It may not have completely healed him, but it is sufficient to allow him to travel with the rest of the company.



We reach the lizard cavern without any difficulty, as Hands of Fire leads us safely through the many hazards of the swamp. The lizard men are very happy to see us, and One Fang, the medicine man, comes up to Miriel and Goldpetal, and thanks them profusely, with Telryn again acting as interpreter. “We must have another feast, to celebrate the lifting of this great evil,” he proclaims.

Miriel tells him that they are welcome, but that we must rest before we can celebrate. We retire to our small cave, with Hands of Fire, to identify and divide up the treasure. 

Telryn casts read magic on the arcane scroll, and determines that it has two spells, _flash_ and _flame weapon_.

Miriel examines at the crown, and says, “Wow, this is incredible. I thinks its worth at least 2500 gold!”

Telryn asks Hands of Fire if the lizard men have any pearls, and when the answer is yes, he trades one of the garnets for a pearl and casts _identify_ on the prism. “It’s an Ioun Stone!” he exclaims excitedly, when the spell is finished. He tosses it up into the air, and it circles above his head. “It creates a magical field,” he explains, “Which should make me harder to hit.” Stone tries to punch him, and the field visibly slows the half-orc’s fist down. 

“Let’s divide these things,” Paks says, “And go to sleep.”

“I’d like the divine scroll,” Miriel says, having earlier identified it in the cavern as containing _protection from evil_ and _searing light_, two divine spells. 

“I just just want 50 gold,” Novalia says, “Nothing else.”

“I would keep this elven cloak,” Goldpetal says, gesturing to the grey cloak he is already wearing. “As my share.” 

“Can I take the Ioun Stone,” asks the half-orc monk, “Since I can’t wear armor?”

“That’s fine with me, Stone,” says Paks. “I’d like the fine longsword.”

“I want the lockpicks,” Chuck says.

“I’d like to keep this,” Telryn says, gesturing to the arcane scroll. 

Hands of Fire selects a pair of garnets.

“I’ll take the silver dagger,” Miriel says.

“I’d like the gold candlestick holder,” Goldpetal says, picking it up.

Stone takes two garnets, Hands of Fire takes another pair of garnets, and Chuck takes the military scroll. 

Telryn trades the topaz and the garnet for two more pearls. 

“I think I should get more,” Chuck says, “Since my duck was taken away from me!”

Stone shakes his head, trying to hide a grin.

“I hate the swamp,” Telryn says. Stone loses it, and bursts out laughing, joined by Paks, then Miriel, and suddenly the entire group is laughing aloud.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #13: The Rat Man Warren, Pt I - Episode 1 of 5*

18th of January, 2003​
*Issue #13*

*The Rat Man Warren, Part I*​

_While pursuing the tribe of Disease ratmen who had attacked Kratys Freehold, we encountered a tribe of lizard men who live in the swamp. At their behest, we undertook to cleanse the swamp of a great evil which had festered for generations in the ruins of a tower upon a remote island on a lake.

At the bottom of the ruined tower, deep beneath the lake, we found a wight, who styled himself as a king. We defeated the wight and his ghoul minions, and proceeded to enact a difficult ritual of cleansing to help clear the poisoned lake of the blight which the undead king had placed upon it.

Successful in our quest, we returned to the village of the lizard men, where we have been resting in our cave._



It is mid-afternoon on the first Madraday of Madrer. We’ve been napping, resting from our ordeal, through the heat of the day. When we awake, the shaman comes to tend to our injuries. He proscribes various potions for our injured, explaining them to Goldpetal and Miriel through Telryn’s interpretation. The potions taste absolutely foul, but are quite efficacious, and we are healed of everything that had ailed us. 

Shortly after he departs, the lizard men arrive to escort us to the feast. They bring us to their main cavern, where there is a large celebration. Everyone gathers around while Hands of Fire tells the tale. He embellishes it a bit, and even though few of us can understand his words, we recognize his meaning as he acts out the many parts. The children gasp at his depiction of a stirge, flee in terror from his imitation of the crayfish, and laugh when he mimics the paralyzation we experienced by stiffening and falling over. Finally, his imitation of the wight is impeccable, and he makes deep guttural noises with his throat, unlike the draconic sibilants he’s been telling the tale in. When he describes how we slew it, and chopped its head off, everyone is very impressed with us. 

There is a great feast, although there is less food than there was at the feast on Denev’s day. The food is somewhat less edible or appealing, and only Stone partakes of the live mice. Nonetheless, we are the heroes and guests of honor, and everyone is very happy. 

The feast ends in the late afternoon. Miriel asks Telryn to help her speak to the cook. It goes well, and she leaves some rice soaking in the lizard man kitchen.

Miriel steps outside to perform her rituals, which are particularly important since it is her patron deity’s day, Madraday, of her month, Madrer. The rituals take her through sunset, as she performs the evening rituals as well. She gets a strong feeling that the golden armor we found in the crypt was a test, and feels approbation from the goddess, as through we passed.

Paks also goes outside, to offer a sincere, silent prayer of thanks to Madriel. It is the first time she has prayed to the goddess, outside of the heat and stress of battle, and when she comes back inside, she seems more at peace with herself.

The others, inside, get great amusement when they recognize some lizard children playing “Hands of Fire and the dry-landers.” It’s very cute, and it seems to be a popular game. 

Chuck meets with the chief, Eyes of the Snake, and asks about the status of the rat man town. Hands of Fire and Telryn accompany him. Eyes of the Snake calls over one of the scouts.

“Just yesterday,” the scout tells him, through Telryn’s interpreting, “A small band of about five rat men arrived from the southwest. They were larger, and seemed a little better dressed than the others, and they caused a great stir.”

“Do you know where they came from?” Chuck asks. 

“There are big towns much further to the southwest, deeper in the swamp, so one thinks that they came from such a town.”

Hands of Fire explains, “The swamp gets much worse in that direction.”

The chief says, “After hearing Hands of Fire’s tale, two more warriors have volunteered to go with you.”

Hands of Fire and the chief have a quick discussion, which Telryn interprets blow-by-blow. “Hands of Fire asked who, and the chief said ‘Fists of Fury’ and ‘Swims with Fishes’. Hands of Fire seems very displeased, he doesn’t seem to like them. They were speaking too quickly after that, and I couldn’t quite hear what they said.” From body language, we guess that Hands of Fire has had to submit to the chief’s will.

Miriel and Paks have both returned by this time. Chuck asks the scout about the population of the town, and hears that there aren’t as many as in the past, before the siege of Kratys Freehold, but that there are still quite a lot. 

Meanwhile, Goldpetal asks the shaman for some dove feathers, which the shaman is able to supply from his store of spell components. Paks found herself carrying two long swords when we divided up the treasures. She offers to trade her old longsword for another pearl, to help Telryn’s effort to identify magical items when we find them, but the lizard men are not interested.

Finally, well after sunset, when all of our little band have gathered in comfort, Novalia asks about our history with the rat men. We spend the remainder of the evening regaling her with our adventures. 

Before going to bed, Miriel stops in the kitchen to grind the rice and leave a sourdough starter rising. We rest for the night.



In the dark hours of the morning, Stone, Telryn, and Goldpetal wake up. They can hear someone coming stealthily into our cave. Each tenses in his own way – Telryn with a spell on his lips, Stone ready to lash out with his feet, and Goldpetal feeling for his scimitar.

The stealthy explorer is Chuck, and each of them relaxes. The Vigilant looks exhausted. He is covered in mud, and his clothes look wet. He looks like he’s been gone all night.  

Telryn rolls over in his bedroll, and asks, “Did you find the duck?” 

Chuck sits down, taking off his pack, and puts on his best air of innocence. “What are you talking about?”

“Go to sleep!” Stone grumbles sleepily.



With the fresh light of the new day, a bright and chipper seven-foot-tall lizard man arrives in our cave. Miriel and Goldpetal are close behind him, having just completed their respective dawn rituals. It is Taniday, the third day of Madrer.

Hands of Fire speaks in rapid Draconic, sounding awake and cheerful. Telryn, half-asleep, translates grumpily. “He wants to know if we’re ready to set out,” he says 

“I want to wait another day,” Miriel answers, stepping past the lizard man and into the cave, “So I can finish making bread. When I’m done, I can bless it, so that anyone who eats it is healed of their wounds, and one chunk of bread will be all any of us need to eat in a day.”

Telryn sits up, rubbing his eyes. “I like the idea of waiting a day,” he says. “I can transcribe spells, and study.” He laughs to himself, and says under his breath to Paks, “Not to mention putting off tramping through the swamp.” 

“Let me sleep,” Chuck grumbles, pulling his cloak about his head and rolling over to face the wall.

“I’m worried that every day we wait is more time for the rat men to reinforce,” Paks tells the others.

“That’s not good,” Stone comments.

Goldpetal observes, “They might have already reinforced.”

Miriel asks, “How far is the big city of rat men?” 

Hands of Fire says, in heavily accented Common, “Many days travel.” We all look at him in surprise – clearly he is starting to understand our language, though only Telryn has made any strides into Draconic.

“I think we should do both,” Novalia chimes in. “We could leave Miriel and Telryn here, and let the rest of the party go look at the town.” 

Miriel shakes her head. “I don’t think that is a good idea,” she says.

Hands of Fire says, “Healer good. Lots of healing good. Lots of rat men. Many rats. Sharp claws. Sharp teeth.” 

Hands of Fire’s advice sways Stone and Goldpetal, and we decide to wait a day. 



Stone, Paks, and Novalia join the others in wakefulness, while Chuck and Telryn try to get some more sleep. During the day, the rest of us discover that we all have errands to run in and around the lizard man caves.  

Miriel bakes two loaves of rice sourdough bread. The smell of baking bread wafts through the complex, giving the lizard man warren a nice, homely smell. The scent eventually entices Chuck and Telryn out of bed, although the priestess turns them away, saying that they may have their share tomorrow.

Goldpetal goes for a long walk through the swamp. At first he walks with Hands of Fire, learning as much as he can of the swamp through the disjoint communication he and Hands of Fire can make. Eventually, they exhaust the learning which can be communicated through broken Common and hand gestures. When Hands of Fire returns home, Goldpetal explores further into the swamp. He is growing ever more comfortable in the strange environs of the Mourning Marsh, and, with his two hawks circling and keeping an eye out, he feels perfectly safe. 

Chuck wakes up a few hours later, and he, too goes out to explore the swamp. Starting so much later, he does not see any trace of Goldpetal’s passage. He is curious to see if he can find an animal companion, something which his Vigilant elders had taught him would be possible when his powers were sufficiently advanced. After several hours of walking and wading through the mud, he pauses – in a tree directly across from him is a small, black snake. Their eyes make contact, and the snake shows no fear. Chuck recognizes it as a poisonous swamp viper, but he feels oddly drawn to it. He extends one hand towards the branch, and the snake crawls up his arm, wrapping itself around his forearm. He pets it with his left hand, and it looks at him, flicking its forked tongue in and out to smell him. A strong bond forms between Chuck and the small snake, and he carries it with him for the rest of the day.

During the early afternoon, Paks asks Miriel to accompany her for a walk. They do not wander as far as the ranger or druid, staying close to the weeping willows which mark the lizard man complex, but ranging far enough afield that they can talk privately. As they walk, Paks tells Miriel of a strange vision she had the previous night.

“I had a dream last night,” she says. “I was outside, in a great dry forest. I walked past a waterfall, above a pool which sparkled in the bright sunlight. I walked to the edge of the woods and came upon a vast fertile plain of grains and grasses. I looked up into the bright, glowing sun and a huge white swan flew down upon her. It was almost frightening, but then it entered me and I felt wiser, somehow. I looked up at the sun and saw Madriel’s face smiling down upon me. 

“This morning, I found that I knew, almost instinctively, how to invoke some powers.”

They discuss the powers which Paks has learned, which Miriel quickly identifies as being divine spells. They discuss the spells Paks knows and discover that some of them are similar to those that Miriel knows, but some are unique, very different, such as the ability to bless a weapon. 

Paks asks Miriel to keep this to herself, and they walk back to the lizard man town. 

Telryn spends most of the day studying and writing. He transcribes some of the spells we have discovered from the scrolls into his spell book.  He is extremely focused on the task, and irritable when interrupted, as Paks discovers to her chagrin. A lunch left near him by one of our well-meaning hosts goes completely uneaten, unnoticed.

Stone grows quickly bored with sitting around the lizard man caves, until he meets up with a group of several younger lizard men, warriors who have not yet proved their worth. He spends the afternoon and evening getting very drunk with them. They have a fine lizard-berry wine, and, though they start the evening with no shared language, that hardly seems to be a barrier to enjoyment. Physical humor makes both lizard man and half orc laugh uproariously, and as they drink, Stone starts picking up some slight Draconic, and at least one of the lizard men makes an effort to learn some Common.  

Chuck returns in the mid-afternoon, carrying a small black viper. This draws amazement and consternation from our hosts, but their shaman explains something to them. Without Telryn to interpret, none of us understand what he said, but they stay clear of Chuck and his viper. Chuck explains that the viper will be safe in the cave with the rest of us, and will not bite us. 



In the evening, Goldpetal returns at last. He does not speak of his travels or what he has found, though he is very interested to discover Chuck’s animal companion, and spends no little time examining it. The snake puts up with his attentions with good grace.

Telryn, finally done with his studies, takes Hands of Fire aside to ask, “So, what do you think about the other two guys?

Hands of Fire shakes his head. “That Swims With Fishes, dumb as a newt.”

“What do you mean?” 

“They’re both strong and brave,” Hands of Fire explains, “But Swims with Fishes doesn’t have much sense.” 

“Is that good or bad for our quest?” Telryn asks.

Hands of Fire shrugs, a human gesture he has picked up from Telryn. “Strong club good, weak mind bad.” 

After dinner, most of us turn in. Miriel asks her hosts to wake her a few hours before dawn. Stone and his lizard man companions are still drinking heavily when the rest of us turn in, and he waves away Chuck’s entreaty that he come to sleep.

When Miriel is awoken in the wee hours of the morning, the half-orc is snoring heavily. She pulls a blanket over him, and slips out to go to the kitchen, where she works over her two loaves of bread. She prays for Madriel’s blessing, and enchants the loaves into four healing rations of food each. The ritual exhausts much of her strength, and she goes back to sleep to recover what she can before morning.



Dawn arrives on Hedraday, the fourth day of Madrer. As the previous day, Hands of Fire arrives in our cave just after Miriel and Goldpetal complete their dawn rituals. The rest of us roll out of bed and begin stowing our things in packs, all save Stone.

The half-orc looks very unwell, and rolls over to burrow into the wall. Miriel takes a minute to examine him, and when she returns to the rest of the group, she tells us, “Stone isn’t feeling well - he drank a lot of lizard-berry wine last night, and didn’t realize how strong it was. He’s going to wait here and rest, and catch up with us later. It seems that lizard-berry wine and half-orcs don’t mix.”

“Should we wait for him?” asks Chuck.

Even as Paks shakes her head, Miriel answers, “No. I think we should press on. Here, everyone take a chunk of bread – this should be all you’ll need to eat today, and if you are injured before you eat it, it will help to heal your wounds.” She distributes the healing bread chunks, one to each of us, and two to Hands of Fire. Hands of Fire keeps one for himself and gives the other to Fists of Fury, one of the lizard men who will be accompanying us. Miriel packs up the sourdough starter to bring with her.

Within minutes, we are packed and ready, and with the three lizard men, we work our way to the surface.

Underneath the great hanging willow, we find the chief waiting for us. He offers his blessing on our departure. “I wish you good luck,” he says, through Telryn’s interpretation. “I hope you kill all the rat men, but, regardless of your success or failure, please do not return. I worry that you might lead the rat men back to the lizard people’s home.

“If you come back to the swamp in the future, please do not come to our door without permission and a guide.”

Miriel asks, “How can we find you, if we need you?” 

“If you need to find us, come nearby. Our scouts will find you.”

We depart, and it feels like leaving home, an oasis of comfort in the muddy misery of the marsh.



The day starts hot and humid, with very little breeze. There is a light mist rising from the muddy ground, much as almost every day in the swamp has started. With Hands of Fire leading, and the assistance of the other lizard men, we make much better time than we would have been able to make on our own. 

As we walk, Goldpetal forages off to the side of the path, searching for ninequine berries. Chuck keeps an eye out for trouble, while Paks asks Telryn to teach her Draconic. Telryn is very jumpy, keeping his crossbow out, but, with Fists of Fury and Telryn both working with her, Paks begins to make some progress. In all, it’s an unorganized line, with people stepping off to either side to look at things, even the other lizard men. We travel for over two hours without any difficulty.

We are wading through water a foot deep. There are a lot of tall grasses around us, their tips waving in the wind. Swims with Fishes wanders off to the right to look at something, and trips over a log.

We hear a big roar from the log, which whirls to challenge him! It’s the tail of a giant alligator, unlike anything we’ve seen before, with spines on its back and a mace for a tail. 

Swims with Fishes draws his club and roars back at it, and that provokes the alligator to charge at him! Somehow, the clumsy lizard man manages to dive out of the way, falling into the swamp water with a splash. The rest of us scatter, trying to back away from the great beast.

Telryn fires his crossbow at the alligator just as his owl flies up to get out of the way, and the sudden movement of the owl spoils his aim. Paks brings up her bow and fires, hurrying the shot, which goes wildly off into the swamp. Goldpetal’s two hawks dive at the alligator to attack it, and one of them impales itself on the spines of the alligator! It dies, its body stuck on the spine of its intended victim. The other hawk went for the eyes, and so was spared the same fate, but also failed to injure the alligator.

Swims With Fishes staggers to his feet, dripping wet, and rushes the lizard from behind. He hits it with his club, but can do no more than just bruise it, and he also injures himself on the spines. He roars again, in fury, as it looks that his attack has wounded him more than the alligator! Fists of Fury sees this, and pulls out a javelin to throw at it, but he also misses. Miriel shouts, “Is it intelligent?” as the surviving hawk flies up to join the owl in the safety of the trees above the battle.

Hands of Fire yells “No!” as he fumbles backward and draws his javelin. Chuck’s viper slithers down into the murky water under the thrashing alligator, but we can’t see how he fares. Chuck fires his bow twice in rapid succession. He hits both times, but doesn’t do much damage. Novalia also hits with her arrow, while Miriel slings a bullet at it. The small iron ball bounces harmlessly off of its thick skin.

The alligator whirls its body around, swinging its mace-like tail at Swims With Fishes, the only one who is still close to it. He tries to duck, but the ball of the tail catches him across the temple, and he collapses face-first into the water, unconscious.

Goldpetal looses an arrow at it, and hits, the arrow burying itself deeply into its side, and Telryn casts a _magic missile_. It is clearly wounded, but this seems only to enrage it, and it begins to advance on the rest of us. Hands of Fire throws his javelin at it, but it takes an unlucky bounce off of the spines, and sinks into the swamp.  Paks fires her bow again, but the arrow fails to penetrate its hide. 

We retreat before it, continuing to fight. Fists of Fury throws another javelin, just missing its head. Chuck fires twice more, hitting it once. Hands of Fire steps dangerously close to the monstrous tail to pull Swims with Fishes’ face out of the water, so that the luckless lizard man doesn’t drown.

Finally, Miriel casts a _sound burst_, centered directly on the great beast’s head. The thunderous noise, at such close range, completely stuns the vicious alligator, leaving a heavy ringing in all of our ears as well.

With the great beast stunned, Novalia steps up close to it and shoots at the head of the lizard. She hits it right through the eye and kills it. 

Paks, Novalia, and Fists of Fury remain alert and on guard, the lizard man with a javelin ready, and the two women with an arrow knocked, while the rest of us take care of things.

Miriel steps around the corpse to Swims with Fishes, and asks Madriel’s healing for him. This closes the wounds from the spines, and wakes him up, although he is disoriented and dizzy for some time. Chuck also finds that his viper was wounded under the monster’s claws during the fight, and he brings the snake to her. The healing arts work just as well on an animal as they do on us humans, and it looks like it is completely healed when she is finished.

Goldpetal retrieves the body of his dead hawk, and sadly buries it on a nearby island, finding a dry spot for the burial. 

Telryn cuts off some of the spines, which he thinks might be useful, although he doesn’t indicate whether he thinks they would make a good dart, or be useful as a spell reagent. 

When Swims With Fishes is recovered, Hands of Fire starts cursing at him. He speaks too rapidly for even Telryn to follow, but he is clearly irate. Paks comments to Chuck, who is standing near her, “He sounds more angry than the most terrifying drill sergeant I’ve ever had.”

When the lizard man is finished, Swims With Fishes stands with his head down in silent submission. Hands of Fire glares at him, then looks away dismissively and recommends that we move on.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Swims with Fishes eh? Is that name foreshadowing?


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #13: The Rat Man Warren, Pt I - Episode 2 of 5*

We walk for another two hours, maintaining a much more disciplined column. The humans are careful to step where the man in front had stepped, and the two other lizard men maintain an equal discipline. Only Goldpetal ranges afield, and that to a more limited degree. 

We can tell when we approach the rat man town. We can see rats, some small, others large, scurrying around. They flee the hard ground Hands of Fire leads us on, diving off into the water at either side. They’re adept swimmers.
Hands of Fire puts his hand up in the air, bringing our little column to a halt. He sniffs the air and turns to Chuck. “Wind’s changed,” he says in Common. 

Chuck nods. “Yeah.” The breeze is now coming from the east, and we can smell a slight tang of the ocean. “And look,” he continues, pointing at the ground. “I can see lots of rat man tracks.”  

“We’re close,” Hands of Fire says.  He shifts out of common, and says something in Draconic to Telryn and Fists of Fury, who both nod in agreement.

“Hands of Fire says that the entrance to the warren is atop a small hill, and suggests we circle around to get down wind of the town,” Telryn informs the rest of us.

We follow this sensible plan, spending half an hour working our way around the village. We are careful to stay out of sight, and Chuck works with one of the lizard men to try and obscure as much of our trail as possible. 

Hands of Fire stops the expedition at a little blind, where another lizard man is watching. “This the scout,” Hands of Fire says, “My friend Red Scale.” He quietly introduces us each in turn.

Red Scale speaks in Draconic, which Telryn translates. “Red Scale tells us not much is going on,” he says. “He will show us a clearing, just to the south of us, where we can see the village.”  

As Red Scale begins leading us toward the clearing, Telryn casts a quick incantation. 

“What was that?” whispers Miriel.

“_Mage armor_,” he replies.

The air is very thick and humid, and as we approach the warren, becomes ever-increasingly filled with flying insects. There are numerous rats diving out from underfoot. When we reach the edge of the clearing, we hide in a batch of thick reeds. Peering through the reeds, we can see a wide expanse of water, perhaps five hundred yards across. In the middle of the water is a small hill, and atop the hill we can see three little huts. There are some rat men walking around them, but it is hard to get a precise count at this long range. We watch for a few minutes, and then Hands of Fire motions us back away from the edge of the clearing.

Red Scale leads us back to the blind. Through Hands of Fire and Telryn, he explains the situation and sketches a little map of the area in the dirt. 

“How many rat men are there?” Goldpetal asks Red Scale, through Telryn, “And is there anything growing in the area?”

Red Scale speaks rapidly in Draconic. “He says recently he’s seen maybe twenty rat men at a time,” Telryn translates, “And the area is completely cleared.”

“So, how do we want to do this?” Chuck asks. 

Novalia pats her trusty bow, and says, “I don’t like the idea of going into that warren. Let’s pelt them with arrows from a distance, and make them come to us.”

“The swamp is their turf,” Goldpetal says, watching a distant bird. “So I think that's a bad idea.”

“We’ll fight better on solid ground,” Miriel adds, by way of agreement.

Paks nods. “Taking the hill is an advantage.” 

Hands of Fire says something to Telryn, who translates. “Hands of Fire says there might be too many of them, and inside a tunnel we can take them one at a time.”

Paks studies the lay of the land, on the little dirt map, and stabs her finger at part of it. “Could we climb this hill?” she asks.

Telryn explains to Red Scale, who nods his head yes.

“Okay,” Paks says decisively. “Here’s a plan. If we circle around to the west, we stay downwind of them. When we get here, due south of the hill, that’s the closest approach we can make under cover, and if we’re lucky the ‘shadow’ of the hill will make it harder for them to see us as we cut across this open space. Then we rush up the steep south hill.”

“That’s dangerous, if we get caught on the slope,” Chuck says, “But I think it makes good sense.”

“We’ll just have to move quickly,” Paks says.

Telryn has been explaining her words to Hands of Fire, who puts out his mammoth paw with the thumb up, nodding his head in approval, and so the plan is made.



We circle around to the west, well out of sight of the hill town. To the south of the village, the swamp becomes thicker and more difficult to wade through, but we reach the position at the last of the vegetation to the south, perhaps fifty yards from the base of the hill, undetected.

“Hold on a second,” Telryn says, before we step out into the open. The young mage pulls Paks aside and motions for her to stand still. Paks looks on with curiosity as he takes out a few hairs from a pouch on his waist and speaks some mysterious words. His spell cast, Telryn touches Paks’ shoulder, and she feels as if her armor is getting tighter. She feels invigorated and ready to fight. “This should help a bit with the upcoming battle,” he says. 

“What was that?” she asks, looking at her arms, which seem to bulge with muscle.

“_Bull’s strength_,” he says with a big smile. “I’ve just figured out how to cast it.” 

While they talk, Novalia draws her bow and casts _guidance_ on herself.

We can’t see any rat men from where we are, and we hope that means that they can’t see us. We step out and begin crossing the clearing, making as quick a time as we can without making tremendous splashing. No alarm sounds.

As we approach the hill, we come upon a muddy sewer of rat man waster. It is putrid, and likely to give us all disease, but we slog through it. Telryn grumbles, “If the gods are kind, we’ll spend the rest of our lives somewhere dry.” 

We start up the hill, and Paks motions us to spread out. We all have our bow, crossbow, javelin, or sling ready, and we lope quickly upwards. There’s still nobody in sight.

We crest the hill, and to our great surprise, there’s nobody there.  The huts are fairly closely grouped. They appear to be made of straw and mud. They have small doors, covered with leather hangings, facing towards the central area.

Goldpetal places his bow on his back, and draws his scimitar, quietly moving to the entrance of the furthest hut. Chuck puts away his bow and draws both swords, moving to the door of the nearest hut. No alarm sounds, and they motion the rest of us to join them. Swims with Fishes joins Goldpetal, while Fists of Fury joins Chuck. Paks moves to the third hut. We all have our melee weapons out now, save Telryn and Novalia, who wait where they have a clear line of fire to cover all three of the doors of the huts. The hawk and owl circle overhead, watching for any unpleasant surprises. 

Hands of Fire comes up alongside Paks, and gestures to Red Scale to circle around the outside. Red Scale loops around the back side of the huts, but he doesn’t see anything obscured behind them. He stops with Paks as Miriel comes up next to Chuck. 

Goldpetal motions to us to listen, and as we hold silent, we can all hear rat men talking inside the huts. Paks signals to Goldpetal and Chuck to go in, on her count. With her fingers she counts, one, two, three, and we all burst through the doors of the huts with weapons drawn. Telryn and Novalia wait outside, watching our backs. 

Goldpetal steps through the door into the first hut, scimitar drawn. It’s very musty inside, and larger than it looks from outside. There is little light, provided by some small lanterns, but his elven eyes can see clearly. Smoke is coiling up from one of two holes in the floor. Supports resembling a row of decaying trees brace the roof. There are three rat men working on things hanging from the ceiling. Before they can even react, Goldpetal steps to the closest one, swinging a scything blow with his scimitar. He hits it, chopping deeply through the neck, nearly severing its head with his first blow, and it collapses, dead. As the two ratmen turn towards their attacker, Swims With Fishes steps through the door behind him, and attacks the rat man closest to the holes. He cudgels it to the head, and it goes suddenly and senselessly limp.  Goldpetal steps to the last rat in his hut, but it dodges backwards, and he misses. Outnumbered, it backs away from them, trying to circle around towards one of the holes or the doorway. Swims with Fishes gets a solid blow to its chest, cracking a few ribs with his great club. Chattering in fear, or warning, it dives towards the smokeless hole, past Goldpetal. Goldpetal brings his scimitar down across its back, a deep wound, and it dies on the dirty floor just at the rim of the hole. Flushed with triumph, Goldpetal holds his scimitar aloft and casts a new spell he had not previously known. The ululating wailing of a _wolf’s cry_ fills the air.

Paks steps into the second hut. The hut is about thirty feet across, decorated with geometric designs made of wood, and full of containers and some small sledges. There are tools hanging from racks, and five rat men are working, hanging things along the far wall. Two holes in the ground promise entrance to their warren. Paks steps across the hut, and swings at the nearest one as it turns towards her. With the _bull’s strength_ Telryn had cast on her, her sword bites deeply into its ribs, and it dies silently. Hands of Fire, just behind her, crosses the room and bludgeons a rat man in the center of the line. It gets its arms up to protect itself, but the crunching noise of a breaking bone echoes through the hut. Red Scale steps between them, and swings at the rat man nearest to Paks. He catches it solidly on the skull, and it collapses, unconscious or dead. The surviving ratmen have no weapons, but the counterattack is no less vicious as they leap with claw and tooth. Two attack Hands of Fire. The wounded one misses him, but the second bites him in the arm. The third one leaps at Red Scale, but he steps out of the way. Paks attacks the wounded one, and hits it hard, killing it. Hands of Fire swings at the rat man who had bitten him, and he kills it with a single blow.  Red Scale backs away from the last one, keeping it at bay with his club, but unable to hit it. Suddenly, the piercing howl of a wolf fills the air, sending chills down Paks’ spine, and startling the two lizard men. However, the effect on the rat man is dramatic. Its eyes go wide with terror, and it completely misses Red Scale with its attack. It begins backing towards the hole, looking wildly around for the wolf, and paying too little attention to the warriors already before it. It never sees Paks’ sword as her blow lops off its head. 

Chuck bursts into the third hut, tossing his viper to the packed earth floor. Like the other two, it is also about thirty feet across. This hut looks like a forest at night. It is cluttered with many things, hanging lanterns, clothing, a thresher, and metal items in reed baskets. There are five rat men, scattered through the hut, intent on their work. There is one hole in the ground, on the north side, far from the entrance. Chuck swings both swords at the rat man right in front of him, but it steps back in terror, and he misses. Fists of Fury clubs at the rat man Chuck attacked, hitting it and wounding it. Miriel steps in behind them, stabbing at the injured rat man with her peacock-feathered spear. She skewers it, and it collapses, dead. Chuck’s viper bites a second one, and as it looks down at this unexpected threat, Chuck rushes at it. His long sword thrusts deep into its chest, and it dies with a look of surprise on its face. Two of them rush at Miriel, while the one closest to the hole tries to dart down it. Miriel steps forward, exposing herself to the attacks of the onrushing rat men to try and prevent the third from getting into the hole. She wounds it, but doesn’t kill it, and Fists of Fury’s club hits the lip of the hole a moment to late as the rat man whips out of sight. The two attacking Miriel both hit her, and she is clawed once and bitten twice. She is nearly knocked down, but manages to throw off one of the ratmen, which crouches on all fours, snarling at her. 

Fists of Fury whirls to Miriel’s defense, engaging one, though his club bounces harmlessly off the hard-packed earth floor. Miriel wounds the crouching one, and yells “Okay, Chuck, get over here and kill this rat for me!” The rat man is about to leap when the terrifying howl of the wolf’s cry fills the air. It scares Chuck and Miriel, but it visibly raises the hackles on the two rat men, and the crouching rat man pauses. It is a fatal mistake, as Chuck steps between it and Miriel, and deals it a vicious stroke with his long sword. It collapses at his feet. The remaining rat man attacks Fists of Fury, and bites him on the shoulder. He tries to swing his club at it, but the range is too close, and he loses his grip on the club. The rat man bears him to the ground, but the heavy club falls right across the back of the rat man’s head, killing it.

The noise of the _wolf’s cry_ alone has probably alerted the entire warren, and the escapee from the third hut likewise. As the last rat man dies in each hut, we step to guard the rat holes with our weapons ready for any sign of the enemy. 



A minute of tense watching passes, with no sign of counterattack. Miriel slips out of her hut, and, leaving two guards in each hut to watch the holes, gathers Paks, Telryn, and Novalia. We convene in the center to discuss what to do. 

“Should we go down one of the passages?” asks Paks.

“I’m not sure,” Miriel says. “They know the warren, and we don’t.”

“We’re pretty exposed, up here,” Telryn points out.

“Let’s collapse the buildings,” Novalia suggests. 

“Good idea,” Miriel says. 

While the others are talking, Chuck takes a closer look at the third hut. He finds lots of straw and mud and excrement. It looks like they make bricks and baskets here. They have some iron implements, and there are shoddy manacles hanging from the ceiling.

Chuck steps out of the third hut and asks, “Does anyone have lamp oil?”

Just as he does, a group of five rat men come up out of a secret hole behind the third hut. These rat men are different from the others. Their fur is lighter in color, and they're armed with scimitars and wearing leather armor. They rush towards us, screaming something in their rat tongue.

Telryn and Miriel are the first to react, stepping towards them and beginning to cast spells. The rat men charge towards the two spell casters, but just before they can reach them, Telryn casts _color spray_. A cone of brilliant light, shimmering through all the shades of the rainbow, extends from his right hand, directly across the five ratmen. Two are knocked unconscious. Miriel casts _sound burst _ and the explosive percussion of noise stuns the rest. 

Hands of Fire comes rushing out of the second hut, yelling his war cry. He charges at one of the stunned rat man, hitting it across the back. As Paks sees this, she yells to the rest of the group, “We have it under control! Keep watching your holes!” Fists of Fury comes running out of the third hut as she shouts this.

Telryn echoes her order in Draconic as he loads his crossbow, and the command comes just in time, as all the other guards had just begun to step away from their holes towards the commotion outside.

Paks steps between Miriel and the rat men to attack one of the stunned ratmen. Again, her _bull’s strength_ makes her first blow lethal. Chuck steps from the doorway of the third hut with his bow out, and fires at the two rat men still standing. He wounds one. Fists of Fury rushes the stunned rat men, getting in between Novalia and her shot. He brings his club down in a great overhand strike, but misses badly.

Telryn circles around behind the rat men. He fires his crossbow at one of the stunned vermin, piercing its heart. Miriel comes over with her short spear and finishes off one of the unconscious rat men. Chuck’s viper slithers up to the last conscious rat man, biting at its ankle. He shakes himself alert just in time to dodge the viper’s fangs, and takes off into the swamp at a dead run. 

Hands of Fire shouts an order in Draconic, and then chases after the fleeing rat man. Paks steps over to the outdoor hole, yelling to Novalia, “One is getting away!” 

Novalia was training her bow at it already. As the rat man dodges Hands of Fire and gets clear of the rest of the group, she unleashes a powerful shot. The arrow takes him through the back at a distance of over forty yards, and he tumbles into the muddy swamp. His fall splashes water in a great wave, and he lies still. 

When Hands of Fire gets there, he checks it, and stands up. “Dead,” he calls. Back on the hilltop, Fists of Fury kills the last unconscious rat man, and we regroup to plan again.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #13: The Rat Man Warren, Pt I - Episode 3 of 5*

Miriel, Paks, Telryn, and Chuck gather over the outside hole, to discuss the plan, while Novalia, Goldpetal, and the lizard men watch over the holes inside the various huts. 

“Let’s collapse all three huts,” Telryn says, “And go down the outdoor hole.” 

Miriel nods in accordance. “I agree with Telryn.”

Chuck shakes his head. “If we collapse the hut with smoke coming out of it, we’ll fill the warren with smoke, which is just as bad for us as it is for the rats.”

“Okay.” Paks suggests, “Then, how about we collapse the other two huts, leave a guard or two at the third hut, and the rest of us go down the outside hole?” 

Before anyone can respond to her suggestion, a battle cry shatters the air. It sounds like a lizard man, and there is a sudden flurry of movement within the third hut, which Hands of Fire was watching alone. Miriel starts running towards the door of his hut. “Watch the hole,” Paks yells to Chuck, as she follows the priestess.

Miriel reaches the door of the hut first. Within, she sees three dead eaters which have burrowed up from the ground around Hands of Fire. The huge lizard man is locked arm-in-arm wrestling with one on the floor. The other two try to pile on, but he throws them both off.  

Madriel’s priestess quickly takes in the scene, and shouts, “Dead eaters! Help!” She steps aside, out of the doorway, as Telryn and Paks rush into the hut. Telryn fires his crossbow into the melee, catching the hard-packed earth, and Miriel casts _sound burst_. Concussion rocks the combatants, and the two dead-eaters getting to their feet are stunned. 

The dead-eater grappling with Hands of Fire rolls over on top of him. Even the mighty seven-foot lizard warrior cannot resist its unnatural strength, and it claws and bites him. The warrior is badly injured, and slumps back, stunned. Paks steps over him, trying to bring her sword down on the dead-eater to protect her friend. It turns its attention to her, catching her sword-arm with one arm, and ripping the other a claw across her thigh, tearing muscle. 

Chuck and Fists of Fury have both abandoned their holes, and Chuck pushes in through the narrow door of the hut, leaving Fists of Fury stuck just outside the door, looking for an opening. The Vigilant tosses his snake towards the fray, and draws his sword. His viper bites the dead-eater which is engaged with Paks. Splitting its attention between Paks’ sword and the snake, it doesn’t notice that Miriel has drawn her spear until she skewers it, and it collapses, dead, at the priestess’ feet. 

Hands of Fire rolls over, trying to stagger to his feet, and clutches at Telryn for stability just as the mage looses a crossbow shot. The shot goes wild, burying itself in the far wall of the hut. The other two dead-eaters attack the wounded lizard man, and one of them scores him deeply across the ribs. Bleeding heavily, he stumbles towards the door, trying to get behind the protection of the others.

Fists of Fury and Chuck step around him, standing shoulder to shoulder and buying the wounded lizard man a space of safety. Fists of Fury swings his mighty club at one of the two remaining dead-eaters. It dodges his blow, but steps into Paks’ range, and she delivers a hard slashing blow across its chest, killing it. Chuck steps past him, bringing both swords onto the last dead-eater. The short sword in his left hand catches its chest, while the long sword in his right slices through its spine, and it collapses, nearly severed in two.

Behind them, Hands of Fire eats the magical bread which Miriel had prepared, and as he eats it his wounds begin to close. In moments, all of his wounds have improved, and he is no longer bleeding heavily, but he still doesn’t look well enough to return to the fight.

Outside, Novalia abandoned her hut, standing in the middle of the trio of huts with an arrow knocked in her bow, to better watch for any sign of trouble. While the battle still rages in the third hut, she hears a scream of terror from her hut, and the noise of combat erupts from the first hut as well. Red Scale bursts, fleeing, from the second hut, eyes wide with fear.

In the first hut, two more dead-eaters are digging their way up out of the ground. As Goldpetal shouts a warning, they both attack Swims With Fishes. The lizard man dodges the first, but doesn’t see the second, and it claws him brutally, dropping the huge lizard to the ground. Goldpetal draws his scimitar to attack, but finding himself outnumbered, he is pressed back against the wall. He is hard-pressed for a moment, but then Novalia arrives at the doorway of the hut, her bow at the ready. She quickly unleashes an arrow, but her hasty shot misses high.

Red Scale’s arrival in the center of the three huts, yelling in Draconic, comes just as the last dead-eater in the third hut dies on Chuck’s swords. Miriel, closest to the door, yells, “There’s more of them! Follow me!” Stepping into the courtyard, she runs to the door of the second hut. Rather than rush blindly in, she stops just outside the door, setting her spear in front of her in case anything comes out. Paks, next out, sees Novalia firing into the first hut, and runs towards her, while Fists of Fury follows Miriel. Chuck is the last one to step out of the third hut, and he looks significantly at Hands of Fire and kicks the doorframe on the way out. The wounded lizard man stares after him blankly.

A dead-eater charges out of the second hut, rushing at Miriel with its jaw open and its arms spread wide as though to claw at her. Her set spear saves her, as it impales itself on her spear, and dies a scant foot from her. She struggles to free the spear, which is stuck deeply into it, as Fists of Fury reaches her side. Hands of Fire and Telryn wait in the central courtyard, looking for targets.

Inside the first hut, the two dead-eaters have pushed Goldpetal up against the wall. Swims With Fishes is bleeding heavily, and the slight elf fights grimly. He parries a blow from the first dead-eater, but the second ghoulish enemy scores him down the back with its claws. Novalia grabs an arrow from her quiver and runs into the hut, leaping on the back of the dead-eater and trying to stab it with the arrow. It brushes her aside. Paks reaches the door, her bloodied sword in her right hand, and yells back over her shoulder, “There are two in my hut!” 

Goldpetal cannot spare a glance for the reinforcement, but he deals a scything cut to one of his opponents, killing it in a single blow. The other dead-eater attacks him, but he nimble dances around the slower creature, leaving it trapped between he and Novalia. The archer stabs her arrow into its back, and it staggers, but doesn’t go down. Chuck steps into the hut as well, and Paks, seeing that it is outnumbered four to one, turns to check on the others.

Another dead eater rushes out of the second hut towards Miriel, reaching her before she can free her fouled spear. It claws her shoulder, just as she gets the spear free. She steps back and calls, “There’s just one over here!”  Red Scale and Fists of Fury drive it back from her with a flurry of club blows, as Chuck’s viper reaches the fray.

Just as it looks like we have the situation in hand, four more ratmen crest the hill from the south. They are each armed with crossbows, and the reddish-furred troupe lets loose a vicious volley. Hands of Fire dodges the first bolt, but the next three all hit Telryn. The mage is knocked to the ground unconscious and bleeding. 

Paks yells, “Miriel! Telryn’s down!” and charges towards them with Hands of Fire at her heels. She reaches the closest one while he is still struggling to reload his crossbow. Before he can bring it to bear, the young warrior reaches him, hewing him down. Hands of Fire comes up beside her to attack the next one, but his earlier injuries are still bothering him, and he fights defensively, cautious, staying out of range, and giving his opponent time to draw a wicked curved blade.

The floor of the first hut is becoming damp and slick with Swims with Fishes’ blood, and the three heroes inside fight grimly to try and buy time enough to heal him. Chuck charges across the hut with his longsword and wounds the dead-eater. Goldpetal also cuts it with his scimitar. Wounded in three places, it looks weakened, but continues to struggle on, shaking Novalia off of its back and making her miss as she tries to stab it with her arrow again. 

At the door of the second hut, the dead-eater attacks Fists of Fury, but it stumbles, falling against the door frame, and it is briefly stunned again. Red Scale turns to go deal with the new threat from the south, while Miriel rushes towards Telryn. Chuck’s viper and Fists of Fury are left on their own. The snake misses, but Fists of Fury finally hits the dead-eater with his club. It snarls at him and fights on, though the lizard man has the advantage of reach.

Red Scale throws a javelin at the ratman on the far end, but his spear misses, flying further on down the hill. Miriel reaches Telryn’s body and begins trying to bandage him, but blood quickly soaks through the cloth. 

Another group of ratmen appears from the west. These five are armed with short bows. Two shoot at Fists of Fury, both missing. One misses Miriel, while two more shoot at Red Scale. Only one hits, wounding Red Scale. One of the other ratmen’s bow string breaks, while another drops his bow, wringing his left arm as though it were in pain. 

From the southern group, the three survivors attack Hands of Fire and Paks. She blocks one blow with her shield, but Hands of Fire is further wounded as two of them attack him at once. Paks ignores her opponent to help protect the injured lizard man, who is having trouble raising his left arm. It hangs, useless, at his side. She kills the one which delivered the blow, and Hands of Fire brings his club down one-handed, killing the second one. Only one ratman remains before them. 

In the first hut, the dead eater grabs Chuck and bites him, a deep wound to Chuck’s left shoulder. As it hangs onto him, he swings at it with his short sword, but the wounded arm cannot get enough force to wound it. With his right arm, however, he runs it through with his longsword, killing it at last. As Chuck pushes its body to the floor, Goldpetal drops to his knees beside Swims With Fishes. He starts bandaging the wounds, but the lizard man is bleeding very heavily and from the elf’s grim look, the others aren’t sure he will be in time. 

Outside, Red Scale charges the new group of ratmen from the west. He clubs the ratman whose bowstring broke, but doesn’t kill it. One of its compatriots tries to step between them, to attack him tooth and nail, but the great club has the advantage of range, and it cannot get close enough. The other two bowmen continue to fire, one at Red Scale and one at Miriel, but both miss. Miriel ignores the arrows coming down around her, and finishes bandaging Telryn, who is no longer bleeding as heavily. Novalia steps out of the first hut with her bow, and quickly fires at the archers to the west, trying to provide some protective cover fire for Miriel.

Along the southern ravine, Paks and Hands of Fire have circled around the ratman so that they are flanking it, attacking from opposite sides. It swings at Paks, but she blocks easily with her shield and delivers a slicing blow across its chest with her longsword. Moments later, Hands of Fire’s great club cracks across the back of the hapless ratman’s skull, and it pitches onto the ground face-first, unconscious or dead.

Fists of Fury and the dead-eater at the door of the second hut seem to be stalemated. He fights timidly, frequently missing the dead-eater, while the luckless creature fumbles for a third time, stunning itself again! The snake takes advantage of its momentary distraction, biting it on the ankle, but the viper’s poison has no apparent effect on the diseased monstrosity. 

The ratman Red Scale had wounded drops its useless bow to leap at him with claw and fang. One claw scores him along the flank, and the lizard man looks visibly weakened. The other ratmen on the western side of the hill continue to fire their arrows into the rest of the group, but they seem inexpert with the bow, and their shots fly wayward.

Inside the first hut, Chuck helps Goldpetal bandage Swims With Fishes, and together they staunch the bleeding. Goldpetal draws his bow and gets up, running out the door of the hut towards the battle. Chuck looks after him with frustration on his face, and looks back down at the helpless lizard man, clearly torn, but he decides that he can’t leave a companion helpless and unguarded. He begins dragging Swims With Fishes out of the hut.

As he steps outside, Goldpetal shoots an arrow at the three archers to the west, grazing one. Red Scale continues to fight the two ratmen between himself and the archers, and his next club swing is rewarded with a satisfying crunch of breaking bone as he crushes the skull of the injured ratman. His remaining adversary looks intimidated, but claws at him resolutely, missing. It looks as though we are in control, but again the tide of battle shifts against us.

Miriel drags Telryn into the third hut, out of the line of the arrows, and watches outward from the doorway. Two ratmen come up the unguarded hole behind her, and leap upon her. Both bite her, one at the neck, and the other into the soft flesh of her side. “Help!!” she yells, shaking them off and turning to face her tormentors.

Just at that moment, the three archers to the west unleash a volley of arrows at Fists of Fury, who is engaged with the dead-eater outside the second hut. One of the arrows hits him in the head, knocking him unconscious. Suddenly, the lizard man is down. The dead-eater leaps upon him and bites at his throat. While it is so occupied, the snake bites it twice, but it looks like Fists of Fury is dead.

Hands of Fire and Paks have finished off the ratmen from the south, and they split up. Paks runs to the west to help Red Scale, while Hands of Fire dashes east to the third hut to help Miriel. Novalia shoots at the archer Goldpetal had hit earlier, and she hits, just grazing it again. 

Paks charges at the ratman which is fighting Red Scale. With the force of the charge and Telryn’s spell, a single blow from her long sword lops off its head, and she continues towards the three archers. One of the archers fires an arrow at Goldpetal, wounding the slight elf.

Chuck drags Swims With Fishes out of the doorway of the first hut by his legs, and leaves him at the feet of Novalia and Goldpetal. Goldpetal shoots at the sole surviving dead-eater, but just as he fires, Chuck bumps into him, spoiling his aim. Goldpetal is lucky to stay on his feet and hang on to his bow. Novalia and the ratman archers exchange arrows, but none can hit. 

Red Scale runs towards the second hut, charging recklessly at the dead eater. He reaches it as it continues to rend Fists of Fury’s body, and delivers a mighty blow with his club. The dead-eater shakes its head and drops Fists of Fury’s body, his blood staining its mouth as it gets ready to attack Red Scale. It launches itself at Red Scale, and though he dodges its bite, its left claw catches him across the temple, knocking him unconscious. Chuck draws his bow and fires, but his first shot misses. The Vigilant shoots a second time, and this arrow flies true, pegging the dead-eater directly between the eyes, and it collapses beside the bodies of its two lizard man victims. 

At the third hut, Miriel stabs one of the ratmen, but she is forced back to the door and steps backward out of the hut. With lightning quickness, the two ratmen grab Telryn and drag him away, down the hole. “They’ve got Telryn!” she shouts in a panic just as Hands of Fire reaches the doorway. The lizard man lieutenant yells something in Draconic over his shoulder as he enters the hut, and Miriel sees him follow the ratmen down the hole.

Paks charges at the three archers to the west. They all fire one last volley as she approaches, and although two of the shots deflect harmlessly off her shield and armor, the third catches her in the shoulder of her sword arm. Just as she reaches them, Novalia’s arrow flies over her, wounding one of the archers. Two of them are wounded, but Paks goes directly after the uninjured one. He tries to parry with his bow, but her blade slices through the bow and deep into his shoulder. His left arm dangles uselessly from the wound.

Miriel and Goldpetal run over to the two wounded lizard men. Miriel reaches them first, and tends to Red Scale. She quickly recognizes that the bleeding, although it looks bad, is normal for a head wound, and she quickly wraps a bandage around his head, stabilizing him. Goldpetal looks at Fists of Fury, and says, “He’s alive!” He presses his hands over Fists of Fury’s neck, trying to limit the bleeding, but crimson blood continues to spurt around his hands.

Meanwhile, Hands of Fire crawls down the tunnel after the ratmen. After about fifteen seconds of crawling, the tunnel opens up into a small room. He finds himself in a small cave, perhaps ten feet wide and twenty feet long, filled with piles of cloth and twine. He spots three ratmen dragging Telryn back into the warren. The ceiling is too low to use his club, so he runs past Telryn’s body and attacks one of the uninjured ratmen with his claws and teeth. It doesn’t see him coming at all, and he hits with all of them, killing it. His momentum carries him on to the injured one, and he bites it, killing it as well. The largest ratman drops Telryn and turns to fight the enraged lizard man. 

The ratman and Hands of Fire launch themselves at each other with animal roars. The ratman’s first attack fails, and Hands of Fire presses the advantage with claws and teeth. As the ratman gives ground, Hands of Fire trips over the body of one of his other victims. His head hits the rock ground hard, and while he is stunned, the ratman leaps on him, clawing and biting, and Hands of Fire slumps into unconsciousness. 

Goldpetal and Miriel continue desperately trying to perform first aid on Fists of Fury. He is bleeding from numerous wounds, and the bite to his neck seems to have gotten the jugular. His life blood is pouring out before their eyes, and nothing they try works. Bandages soak through, but they continue to work at it. 

On the western side, Paks is outnumbered three to one. The three wounded ratmen circle around her, trying to surround her, but her shield and sword are everywhere in a steel barrier. As she holds them off, Chuck fires two arrows in rapid succession. The first arrow catches one of the ratmen through the throat, while the second penetrates the heart of another. Both collapse, and the odds are even.

Novalia fires an arrow at the last one just as Paks steps between her and it. Her arrow bites deep into Paks’ back, and she falls, losing her grip on her sword. The sword flies out of her hand, and goes straight into the ratman’s heart. It falls back in shock and dies, and Paks offers a silent prayer to Madriel.

Miriel offers a quick prayer to Madriel of her own as she and Goldpetal work grimly on Fists of Fury. Finally, with her help, Goldpetal stabilizes Fists of Fury. He’s no longer bleeding to death, but he’s lost too much blood and hovers right on the verge of death. When they look up, the fight is over. All of the ratmen are dead, and there are no dead-eaters remaining.

Chuck straps his bow to his back and picks up his snake. He rushes into the third hut to look for Hands of Fire and Telryn. The hut is empty, save the bodies of the three dead-eaters, and he walks to the edge of the tunnel. The young Vigil grimly pulls out his magical dagger and crawls down the tunnel. 

Miriel prays to Madriel for healing, and revives Red Scale. She hands him her bread, which he eats. Goldpetal pours a healing potion down Fists of Fury’s throat, while Novalia prays to Tanil for healing for Swims With Fishes. The magical healing from different sources gradually works on all three lizard men, and they revive. Swims With Fishes still looks hurt, but he staggers to his feet. When Fists of Fury wakes up, though he looks extremely weak, he asks Red Scale a question in authoritative Draconic. Red Scale gives him a quick answer, pointing at the third hut, and Fists of Fury issues something that sounds like a command.  Seeing the gesture, Paks starts running towards the third hut, and Red Scale leaps to follow her.

Chuck bursts into the underground chamber, where he finds the solitary ratman standing over Telryn and Hands of Fire, its muzzle red with blood. The magical dagger glows in his left hand, and he throws the snake at the ratman with his right. He misses, and the snake hits the far wall of the chamber, and falls to the rock stunned. The ratman hesitates, giving Chuck the time to climb to his feet. As he stands, he draws his long sword. He looks like a grim king, and the ratman bolts through an opening in the far wall, leaving Chuck in possession of the room.

Chuck steps into the underground room and kneels beside the two bodies. He checks to see their condition. Both are alive, unconscious and not bleeding. Paks and Red Scale arrive in the room moments afterward. For a brief moment, all is quiet both above and below ground.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #13: The Rat Man Warren, Pt I - Episode 4 of 5*

On the surface, Novalia climbs up on top of the first hut. After struggling and sliding a bit on the sloped roof, she gets up on the top of it, where she can see clearly in all directions. “I’ll keep a lookout from here,” she shouts.

Goldpetal gives Swims With Fishes his chunk of the healing bread. The lizard man eats it, and his wounds magically close. Fists of Fury also, despite his injuries, goes down the hole.

The room underground contains cloth, twine, and tools. It is littered with reeds, straw, flat rocks, and wooden bowls containing noxious fluids. There is a layer of filth over everything. Chuck and Red Scale guard the entrance to the little chamber, while Paks tends to the two injured. She lays her hands on Telryn and prays for healing from Madriel. She can feel the healing power course through her fingers as her prayer is granted. His flesh knits, and he wakes up. He takes his healing bread out of his pack, and eats it while she repeats her prayer over Hands of Fire. The lizard man also is healed, and he wakes up just as Fists of Fury enters the room.

“Where are we?” Telryn asks.

Paks gives her healing bread to Hands of Fire, who eats it as Red Scale tells him what has transpired above ground. Paks tells Telryn, “You’re underground, in the ratman warren. We fought them off above ground, but you’d been taken. Hands of Fire tried to rescue you, but he fell by your side, and Chuck saved you both.” Hands of Fire finishes eating the bread, and he looks better, if not exactly healthy. 

On the surface, Miriel and Goldpetal begin to search the huts. Miriel enters the first one, while Goldpetal goes to the second. In the first hut, Miriel sees dark shapes hanging from the ceiling. Examining them more closely, she gasps in horror when she realizes that they are dried carcasses, human, or maybe elven. Forcing herself to concentrate despite the bile rising in her throat, she continues her examination. The bodies have been drained of blood, which has collected in pots underneath them. Noticing tanning tools, she realizes that she is in a gruesome tannery, and in a cascade of comprehension, she recognizes the pink leather hung on the walls as tanned human skin. 

In the second hut, Goldpetal finds a much more normal scene. The elf finds racks of tools, scoops, chisels, picks, and hammers. He finds little interesting, and a brief examination of the tools reveals that they are, as expected, made of stone and wood. There are a few carved of bone, as well. 

The two searchers meet in the third hut, the one which the others have gone down into the warren through. There is brick making equipment - mud, reeds, and rat excrement, and also manacles. The walls of the rooms are covered with layers of dried excrement. It smells terrible, and there are slimes and mushrooms growing on the walls. “This is not healthy,” Miriel says. 

As soon as Hands of Fire and Telryn feel well enough to walk, they, Fists of Fury, and Paks come up from the underground chamber. Chuck and Red Scale stand watch over the dark opening, each flanking the side of it so that they are out of sight of any archers, and can watch each other’s back if more dead-eaters show up.

Upstairs, Paks says, “We don’t have time to debate. We’ll be attacked again if we do. Chuck and I think this is the time to press the advantage. All who are healthy enough, come with me. If you need to rest, stay up here and watch our backs.”

The others agree, although we’ve all been wounded, and Miriel and Telryn are exhausted from their furious spellcasting. 

“I’ll stay up here,” Novalia says, “But let me offer you my healing.” She comes down from her perch on the rooftops, gives Miriel her quarter-loaf of bread, and heals Hands of Fire until she has exhausted her spell-casting ability. “There, that should help,” she says. “I’m almost out of arrows. Can anybody sell me some?” Goldpetal gives her ten arrows, and she gives him two gold pieces. 

Paks, Telryn, Miriel, and Hands of Fire go back underground to join Chuck and Red Scale, while Swims With Fishes and Fists of Fury collapse the other two huts. Goldpetal and Novalia stand watch with bows drawn from the roof of the third hut, where they can see all of the surrounding area. 



Underground, the four of us and two lizard men begin walking down the tunnel. It is tall enough for the humans to stand in, but the lizard men are hunched over and uncomfortable, and even Paks occasionally hits her head. Chuck leads the group by the eerie blue light of his magical dagger. Paks follows with a lit torch in her right hand and her shield in her left, her sword sheathed. The two lizard men follow behind. Telryn starts mapping the warren as we walk, and Miriel carries a torch for him. 

After about ten feet, the tunnel branches in three directions. With nothing but instinct to go on, Chuck chooses the western passage, the leftmost one. As he starts down it, Paks hears voices calling out, with a Veshian accent, “Here, this way – help, help!”

“Chuck!” she hisses. When she has his attention, she motions towards the rightmost passage with her head. She starts down it by the light of her torch, and the others follow, with Chuck falling in to cover the rear. 

Paks quickly comes into another rough-hewn room, irregularly shaped and perhaps a dozen feet wide. There are five human slaves chained to the wall. The chains let them move around, but don’t stretch far enough to let them leave the room. There are scraps of cloth and food on the floor, and the room is stifling. There is a passage leading off to the northeast and two leading off from the southwest corner. 

Paks steps to the double corridor, keeping her shield before her and sword out. One of the slaves calls, “Thank you for saving us! Please free us! The ratmen have chained us here.” The rest of us begin stepping into the room, and Hands of Fire guards the eastern passage. The slaves recoil in terror from the lizard men.

Paks notices this, and gives a wry smile. “You’re going to be okay,” she calls back to them. “These lizard men are our allies. Miriel, see if you can unlock them.”

One of the slaves is covering his eyes from the torchlight, and another exclaims, “Light! I haven’t seen light in forever!” 

Chuck casts about for heavy metal tools and finds a pickaxe. He passes it along to the others to break the chains. Telryn tries first, but the chains resist his blows, and he says, “I’m not strong enough. Don’t be afraid of him, Red Scale here will free you.” Red Scale takes the pickaxe and begins breaking the manacles. 

The first slave freed says, “Thank you, thank you!” As Red Scale frees the second one, he tries to rush out the way we came in. 

“Chuck!” Paks yells, “Don’t let them out until we warn the people upstairs.” Chuck restrains them as Red Scale frees the not to let them out until we warn the people upstairs. 

The fourth slave freed is the one which had spoken first. He says, “Thank you, kind sirs... and ladies. You’ve saved us, but we still have to get out of this swamp!”

“We have friends,” Paks tells him. “We’ll help you get out after we’re done here.” 

“There are many slaves here,” he tells her. 

“We’ll save them,” Paks assures him.

Chuck asks, “What can you tell us of the layout of the warren?”

The slave tells us that there are two factions in the ratman hierarchy, the priests and the military. He says that the military quarters are on the eastern side, the direction we’re going, while the priests live on the western side. The area we are in is a common area between them. He points out which corridors lead to the military, priest, and common areas. He finishes with an ominous warning. “Be very wary of the priests’ area; slaves go in and they don’t come out.”

All five of the slaves are freed by the time he finishes. One is having trouble walking, but the others can support her. Chuck leads the slaves out to the hut, yelling out “I’m coming up!” before he exits the last tunnel. Red Scale goes up with him to take over protecting the slaves above ground, and he sends Fists of Fury down to help us explore the warren. Goldpetal asks the slaves to help demolish the huts, a task which they are gleefully happy to contribute to. 

Those of us underground head down the northeastern passage, towards the military areas, by the light of Paks’ torch. It curves to the north, but only ten feet down the passage Paks steps into another room. This one is roughly twenty feet by ten, and kidney-shaped. There are reed mats hanging from the ceiling which conceal the far side of the room. There is another passage to the left. The hanging reed mats move slightly, as though there is something behind them. 

Paks and Hands of Fire step in. Paks keeps her torch at the ready and motions Hands of Fire towards the reed mats. The lizard man pushes the reeds aside. Behind them, he sees a bunch of female ratmen with babies, cringing and terrified of us. There are two blindfolded slaves in there. 

Paks gets a grim look on her face and shakes her head. She steps away to guard the exit corridor, but Hands of Fire has no such squeamishness. He lays about with his club. Neither the mothers or the children protect themselves, and he kills them all quickly. 

Miriel arrives as he’s finishing the gruesome chore, and she goes over to the slaves. They are clearly terrified. She removes their blindfolds, but they cover their eyes, and one cries, “No! It’s against the rules to look at the hairless children of the ratmen!” Miriel leads them back out to the surface.

Telryn shakes his head at the sorry sight, and utters a prayer to Madriel.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #13: The Rat Man Warren, Pt I - Episode 5 of 5*

When Hands of Fire has finished his bloody task, and Miriel has returned from escorting the slaves to safety, we prepare to proceed down the next corridor. With Paks in the lead, we follow the right-hand wall. The passage curves to the left, then opens into another room, this about twenty feet in diameter. There are a number of mats on the floor, made into nests about the size of a bed. It looks like sleeping quarters for the adult ratmen. 

Drawing our immediate attention are seven giant rats, each larger than a tomcat. They are milling about in the room, rustling through the bedding, and don’t seem inclined to fight. Paks stops at the entrance, where she notices that two more corridors lead off from this room, one back to the left, and one from the far right corner. She yells back, “Telryn! It connects. Send the lizard men around the other passage.” Telryn translates her command into Draconic, and the two lizard men work their way around, proving her theory correct.

Hands of Fire bursts into the room, leaping upon the nearest two rats with tooth and nail. He pins one to ground with a claw, breaking its neck, and bites the second, killing it as well. His momentum drives him through to a third, which he kills as well. Fists of Fury follows right behind him as Paks and Chuck step in from the other passage. Fists of Fury swings his club at the rat in front of him, but misses. It leaps at his crotch, but he knocks it aside. The other three rats bolt out the unblocked passage. 

Paks stabs with her torch at the one remaining rat, but it dodges away from the flames. Chuck steps to the far passage with his bow. As his snake pursues the fleeing rats down the corridor, Chuck looses two arrows down the corridor. One kills the trailing rat, but the second shot misses. The viper catches one and bites it, but it lives. It turns as though to fight just as Hands of Fire runs down the corridor after it, battle rage hot in his blood. He attacks it and kills the hapless rat.

A hail of crossbow bolts comes down the corridor towards Hands of Fire just as he stands up. Two of them hit him, and he collapses on the cold stone. The last fleeing rat escapes into the darkness.

Chuck steps aside as the other bolts skip harmlessly into the room, alerting the rest of us to the new threat. Fists of Fury steps to the opening of the corridor and looks down it, but it is pitch black and he can’t see anything. Hearing the noise of crossbows resetting, he ducks back. The last giant rat, forgotten momentarily, leaps at him again. The lizard man sidesteps it, and as it lands he bashes it with his club, crushing it. 

Telryn takes out a crossbow bolt and casts _light_ on it, causing it to glow with a golden radiance. Paks drags Hands of Fire back out of the corridor and into our little room. Chuck throws his bread to Paks and moves over next to Miriel. He picks up his viper with his left hand. We’re all out of the line of fire now. 

Miriel runs over to Hands of Fire, and two more crossbow bolts come out of the dark at her. They both miss, and she quickly studies the lizard man. Two crossbow bolts protrude from his chest, and she deftly removes the bolts and bandages the wounds before they can bleed too much.  

Three crossbow bolts fly from the other passageway, from between us and the exit. One hits Chuck, while another lodges in his leather armor without hurting him. The third skips off the wall just beside Fists of Fury’s head. We can hear a ratman scream from down the corridor, but it sounds more like pain than a battle cry.

Telryn begins casting a spell, and he gestures down the hallway. We hear the snarling of a wolf, and screams from ratmen. Telryn calls out, “Charge ’em!” Chuck drops his bow and draws the glowing dagger and his longsword.

Paks sticks Miriel’s healing bread in Hands of Fire's mouth. Again she lays her hands on him and prays to Madriel, and for the third time today, her prayer is answered. He wakes, and quickly eats the bread. The combination of healings helps, and he looks much better. Paks stands and draws her longsword, dropping her torch on the floor just as Miriel lights a torch of her own.

Chuck charges down the corridor between us and safety, longsword at the ready. By the light of his glowing dagger, he sees another narrow room with corridors opening off to the north, east, and southeast. He thinks he can see another cavern to the east. There are three ratmen standing in the room, with crossbows. One more lies dead on the floor, a bolt embedded the back of its head. It looks like one of the others shot him accidentally. Only one of the ratmen has a bolt ready as Chuck runs in. It looses a hurried shot, but the bolt caroms off of his leather armor without injuring him. 

The Vigilant screams a battle cry and attacks that one with the dagger. He wounds it, and his momentum carries him to the next, which he slashes across the chest with the longsword. At his feet, the viper bites the third one. Fists of Fury runs into the room behind him, swinging his club at one of the ratmen, but he misses. The ratmen drop their crossbows and claw at the lizard man, one of them scoring him on the left arm.

Telryn fires down the other corridor with his lighted crossbow bolt. He intentionally aims high, and the bolt sticks in the far wall to light the room with a magical, golden light. In its light we can see part of a large, rough room, probably about forty feet in diameter. About half of the area is lit, and in the darkness, we get hints of quite a few ratmen waiting. It looks like they’ve turned over some low tables to provide cover. At the moment we can see only four, and they are all battling a great grey wolf. Only one hits, and the wolf bites that one, injuring it much worse than it had done to him. 

Paks charges down the corridor, swinging her longsword at the first ratman she meets. The strength of Telryn’s _bull’s strength_ spell still powers her muscles, and her first stroke lops off its head. Hands of Fire and Miriel are right behind her. The room they have entered opens into a cavern about the size of a great dining hall. It is an oval shape, perhaps fifty feet long and forty feet across, and the ratmen have set defenses in it. Overturned tables and troughs perhaps ten feet into the room provide cover for crossbowmen and archers that kneel behind them. Most of the ratmen are a sickly grey, but there are a group of larger, whiter ones. They carry crossbows and wear black robes over armor. An older ratman stands in the middle of the room, surrounded by the larger warriors. He wears the black robes, and his fur is of light silver. A huge albino, as large as any of the lizard men, stands by the overturned tables. Strapped to his back is an evil-looking scimitar which would be a two-handed weapon for anyone of human size, but he has a long bow drawn with an arrow knocked.

In the western room, Chuck whirls through the ratmen in a deadly dance. He kills one with his longsword, and steps further into the room, but his dagger misses. The snake bites the third ratman again, and the poison of its venom kills it. As the last ratman leaps at Chuck, Fists of Fury’s club catches it in the face, smashing it to pulp. The ratmen all lay dead, but before the victors can even draw a breath, four more crossbow bolts whistle out of the southeast corridor at them. All of them miss, caroming wildly off the stone walls and floor. Chuck charges towards the crossbowmen before they can reload.

In the cavern, the shaman pounds the floor with a claw and shakes the ground under Paks, but she manages to keep her balance. Paks steps into the cavern and casts her first spell, _protection from evil_, on herself. One of the ratmen swings at her, but Madriel’s protection causes it to miss. Hands of Fire steps in past her to attack that ratman, but it parries his blow. The wolf continues to fight viciously with three ratmen. Not only can they not hit it, but the wolf bites the one it had previously wounded, and presses the ratmen back out of the corridor opening. Telryn comes up behind Miriel, but he can’t see much through her and the tall fighters in the doorway. 

Chuck bursts out of another corridor perhaps fifteen feet to Paks’ left. He reaches the turned over tables and attacks the crossbowmen that shot at him. He hits one with his longsword and kills it. The one next to it is holding its arm, a crossbow bolt protruding from its shoulder, as though it, too, had been shot by a comrade. Chuck’s viper attacks that one, and bites it. It squeals as poison courses through its veins, and it collapses, writhing on the floor. Fists of Fury follows Chuck into the cavern, and clubs the next crossbowman. He hits it hard, and it turns as though to run from him. Before it can escape, the lizard man’s club hits it again and kills it.

Miriel calls out, “Madriel, _bless_ your allies in this battle!” One of the larger warriors, behind the tipped over troughs, shoots at Hands of Fire, but misses, while another lunges at him with claw and tooth. The two fighting the wolf miss it, while another attacks Paks, but she parries its blow easily. Two of the crossbowmen shoot at Fists of Fury. Both bolts hit him, but the lizard man stays on his feet. 

The shaman casts another spell, clearly directing it at Paks, but it doesn’t seem to affect her. She laughs aloud, a clear and ringing laugh, and gestures for him to come at her. He blanches. 

Telryn steps past Miriel and tosses a vial of Alchemist’s Fire over the barriers. He’s aiming for the shaman, but he misses. Madriel’s blessing ensures that the vial hits one of the larger warriors anyways. It catches on fire, while the flaming liquid splashes on other ratmen in the area.

The albino shoots an arrow at Hands of Fire, and it hits the big lizard man. Badly wounded, he retreats past Miriel, back down the passageway. The ratman nearest to him takes one last claw swipe at him, but the lizard man’s luck holds, and it misses.

Telryn’s wolf attacks an uninjured ratman and hits it, but then the magically summoned beast disappears, back wherever it came from. Paks swings at the ratman nearest her, his fur alight from the Alchemist’s Fire, but she misses as he drops and rolls to put out the flames. 

Chuck leaps over the tables, deeper into the room; one ratman swings at him and hits. Chuck’s two blades whirl about him with deadly accuracy, and he kills two injured ratmen. A look of joy suffuses his face as he dispatches more of his favorite enemy. The viper slips under the troughs and bites at one of the ratmen behind them, but misses. Fists of Fury steps up as well, at the far left of the line, but his wounds must be troubling him, as he misses. Two arrows whistle past him. One of the archers leaps over the low wall, away from them, and shoots at Chuck. His arrow catches the Vigilant in the back just as another archer fires from deeper into the room. This arrow, too, hits, and Chuck collapses. 

Miriel pulls out her scroll and casts _protection from evil_ on herself. The albino notices that she cast a spell, and tries to shoot her, but the arrow hits the wall just past her head. Right in front of her, two ratmen swing at Paks. She parries one blow with her sword, and blocks the other with her shield. She steps inside the reach of one of her enemies and stabs a wounded ratman, running her blade through its heart.

The shaman readies something. Beside him, the burning warrior rolls on the floor to try to put out the flames. He succeeds in dousing the flames just as Telryn throws a flask of acid at the shaman. The acid hits the shaman, and splashes over the prone warrior.

On the left front, the snake bites at the same ratman and hits it, poisoning it. Fists of Fury swings at the ratman in front of him and hits it, caving in its skull. He leaps over the trenchers, deeper into the room, where one of the larger warriors swings a sword at him. A smaller ratman attacks him with his claws, but the lizard man dodges both of their attacks. The shaman rushes towards Fists of Fury and tries to touch him, but the lizard man dodges away. 

Three of the warriors shoot their bows at Paks. Two hit her, hard, and their arrows penetrate her chain mail. She slumps unconscious at Miriel’s feet. One of the smaller ratmen steps over her and claws Miriel as the albino shoots at the priestess again. Both of them miss. The priestess rushes past Paks’ body and dodges around the smaller ratman to reach Chuck. She kneels beside him, and quickly bandages the worst of his wounds, stabilizing him.

With Chuck and Paks down, and Miriel and Hands of Fire having left him, Telryn finds himself standing alone at the mouth of the right hand corridor. He resolutely casts a _magic missile_ at the nearest ratman. Two iridescent blue bolts hit it, wounding it badly, but it stays on its feet. Hands of Fire comes running back down the corridor with a potion of healing ready, unstoppered. He tries to reach Paks to heal her, but the ratman standing over her body claws him before he can, and he collapses by her side. Things look very grim.

The gods do not desert us, however, and at the moment of our darkest need, Fists of Fury brains the shaman with a critical hit. His club crushes the shaman’s skull and kills it. The snake hits the injured ratman attack Fists of Fury, and poisons it, and it, too falls. Two warriors attack Fists of Fury, but he fights like a madman, and not only do they miss, they give ground before his onslaught.

The last two archers shoot at Telryn. Not only do they both miss, but one hits the injured ratman standing over Paks, and kills it! With a brief opening, Miriel grabs Hands of Fire’s potion of healing, which has miraculously neither broken nor spilled, and pours it down Paks’ throat. As she comes to, Paks lays hands on Chuck and wakes him up, then lays hands on herself to heal herself. Miriel gives Chuck a chunk of bread, and he eats it. 

That easily, Chuck and Paks are both ready for more action. They climb to their feet just as the albino steps closer and shoots Telryn. His arrow hits, and Telryn collapses. Two more arrows, from the archers at the back, glance off of Paks’ mail.

Fists of Fury hits one of the warriors hard. He’s pushed them most of the way across the back of the room, and is approaching the other two archers. Chuck’s viper remains with the lizard man, and wounds the other warrior. One of the warriors fumbles, falling in front of the snake, but the other warrior’s blow strikes Fists of Fury, and he goes down. 

Miriel reads the scroll and casts _searing light_ at the albino. A bright white light flashes from her palms, and its white fur shows clearly the pink, as though a sunburn, which she has done to it. It is badly injured, but neither blinded nor stunned. As Paks and Chuck head towards it, the albino draws its scimitar, which is a great, evil-looking weapon. It’s silvery, and has a nasty shimmer to it. 

Paks steps up to it, and yells, “Madriel, guide my blade!” She smites it, a great overhand blow with the force of the _bull’s strength_ and Madriel’s blessing behind it. Her blade bites deep into its left shoulder, and the albino’s left arm dangles uselessly by its side, but it is still standing. Chuck tries to hit it as well, but the albino’s parries his blow with the scimitar. 

The albino takes a great swing at Paks, and hits her. It slices through her armor, as hard a blow as she has ever taken, but she stays on her feet. She can feel a deeply evil power coursing through the blade, but whatever it is has no effect on her. The albino looks at her as though this, more than anything which has transpired before, has shaken him. 

Red Scale and Swims With Fishes arrive, running in through the passage on the left. Red Scale reaches the albino, and swings his club at the great ratman, but he misses. The albino has its back to the wall, and lays about itself with the great scimitar, trying to keep its attackers at bay.

Further into the room, the viper bites one of the ratman warriors. That one tries to attack the snake, but the slithering serpent evades his blow, which strikes a bright spark when the steel blade hits the rock floor. Swims With Fishes rushes it, and his club catches the back of its skull before it looks up, and the rat warrior is dead.

The other two warriors aim at Chuck. One fires a bow, while the other steps forward with a scimitar. They both hit, and he goes down. He is only out cold for seconds, as Miriel runs over to him. She takes the healing potion, which he has in a flask at his belt, and pours it down his throat. 

As his eyes open, Chuck finds a bow at hand. It isn’t his, which lies on the floor of another room, but he picks it up and draws an arrow from his quiver. Still lying on the ground, he fires a single shot at the albino, and this unexpected blow catches it in the throat. The great albino warrior topples backwards, dead. 

The remaining three ratmen, warriors all, turn to flee. The snake bites at one, while Red Scale swings at another. Both miss. Swims With Fishes chases them towards the corridor, wounding one of them with his club before they can make it around the corner. He traps one in the room, while the other two sprint down the corridor.

Paks steps back to Hands of Fire and gives him her healing potion. Miriel runs over to Fists of Fury. She finds him bleeding, but is able to stabilize him easily.

Chuck runs over to the far opening, and shoots down the corridor at the fleeing rat warriors. He wounds both, but they dodge around a corner and out of sight. The one trapped in the room swings at Chuck, but it misses. It doesn’t see the viper as the snake slithers up and bites it. The poison quickly fells the warrior, and suddenly the room is ours.

Paks kneels beside Telryn and prays for healing again. She is exhausted, and can tell that she will not be able to heal again today, but once more wounds close under her hands and the mage wakes. Miriel uses her last energy to heal Fists of Fury back to consciousness as well. Hands of Fire is unconscious, but stable. He is too injured for either of the exhausted healers to treat, and both their prayers fall on deaf ears. He remains prone, and pale. 

It has been an epic battle, but we are now in possession of the hall. The shaman and the albino lie dead with perhaps twenty of their fellows.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Ouch,  A couple of times I thought you might have a TPK coming in that running battle.


----------



## Fulcan

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Ouch,  A couple of times I thought you might have a TPK coming in that running battle.




So did we.  There were several times where one of us would get knocked unconscious and that person would have to get up and walk around because the stress level was so high.  I would have hated to see what would have happened if the ratmen hadn't been clumsy enough to shoot themselves in the back (yay critical fumbles!).  We use a spell point system and I think that all of our spell casters were out of points with 1/3 of the battle still left to go.  It was great fun *grin*.


----------



## joshwitz

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Ouch,  A couple of times I thought you might have a TPK coming in that running battle.




Yeah, that was quite a close one.  I remember one player's hands were actually shaking while rolling the dice.  I was kinda proud of myself...


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

It would appear that "Swims with Fishes" wasn't clever foreshadowing after all. Oh well. It sounds like a truly epic battle.

BTW, do any of your group play RPGA games? I ask because I just noticed that you're in the SF Bay area and I wonder if I know you IRL.


----------



## joshwitz

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> It would appear that "Swims with Fishes" wasn't clever foreshadowing after all. Oh well. It sounds like a truly epic battle.




No, just a DM with a dumb sense of humor.  Most of the Lizardmen have silly names.  Wait till you see the next one.

BTW, they're not out of the woods, er, swamp, yet.



> BTW, do any of your group play RPGA games? I ask because I just noticed that you're in the SF Bay area and I wonder if I know you IRL.




Can't speak for the rest of the group, but I'm not a member of the RPGA.  Stone's player might be.  Yeah, we're based in SF, with about half the players from the Pennisula.  For some reason, I thought you might be a friend of Amaroq's IRL.


----------



## joshwitz

*2 Year Anniversary!!*

I'm currently working on tomorrow's adventure, and noticed that tomorrow is not only session 28, but 3/24 was the 2 year anniversary since the start of this campaign!

Yeah us!  Who's buying the cake?  And more importantly, who's buying the DM a beer?


----------



## Amaroq

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Ouch,  A couple of times I thought you might have a TPK coming in that running battle.




Yeah, that was one of the most brutal battles I can remember. As we stood at the end of that one, most of the party was playing one-hit wonders who would collapse if a kobold sneezed within a half-mile radius. 

Short week for me this week: I'm flying to Toronto Wednesday evening, so my hope is to smoke through Issue #14 between today and then, and pick up Issue #15 next Tuesday. Sorry for the irregularity!


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #14: The Rat Man Warren, Pt II - Episode 1 of 5*

1st of February, 2003​
*Issue #14*

*The Rat Man Warren, Part II*​


_We have found the warren of the Disease tribe which besieged Kratys Freehold. We attacked, capturing the hill upon which they had three small huts, each of which stood over holes into the warren. For a short period, the ratmen came up from their holes to die at our hands, but eventually, we had to go into the warren after them.

Exploring through the warren, we found that they had prepared their defenses in a great central hall, erecting what cover they could, and gathering as many fighters as they could to try and make a final stand against us. They fought valiantly, and died with courage.

After an epic battle, we have captured the great hall of the ratman warren. The shaman and the albino are dead, as are many of their best warriors. Most of us are gathered underground, in the hall. All of us are wounded, and fatigued to the point of utter exhaustion. We have used everything, and there seems nothing left to give. Hands of Fire lies unconscious, and neither Miriel nor Paks has been able to wake him. It seems as though Madriel no longer hears their prayers._



It is midday on the first Taniday of Madrer. 

Too wounded to venture underground, Goldpetal and Novalia wait on the surface to gather those slaves the others have freed as they escape from the warren. More and more slaves keep showing up, though many minutes have passed since they last had word from their companions. There are now sixteen slaves milling about on the hilltop between the three huts. Novalia is on the roof of one of the huts, keeping watch with bow and arrow. Goldpetal stands on the ground, organizing the slaves. Though we had once though to collapse the other two huts, that plan is put by the wayside as caring for the slaves has become more important. 

From her vantage point, Novalia can see large numbers of ratmen escaping the warrens through other holes which we had not yet found. At first, she took some shots at them, but it proved hard to hit fast-moving targets at such distance in the midday haze, and now she simply notes which direction they go. She is looking out into the swampy haze when she spots Stone and a lizard man, coming through the swamp. They are singing an old lizard man drinking song. 

As they climb to the top of the hill, Stone calls out, “Sorry I'm late! That lizard berry wine is some strong stuff. Hey, this is my friend – they used to call him ‘Thinks Like Stones,’ but that got a bit confusing, so now we call him ‘Drinks with Orcs.’ You can call him ‘Drinks’.” Drinks is a smaller than some of the other lizard men, and has a particularly glazed look on his face. It is hard to tell if he, too, is hung-over, or if he is just naturally dumb. 

When Stone reaches the top of the hill, ignoring a stern glower from Goldpetal and the slaves who shrink from him in fear, he steps over to Novalia’s hut to call up to her. “Drinks told me he likes to bop ratmen on the head with his club. We were playing a game last night, with mice popping out of holes. As they popped out, me and Drinks whacked their heads.

“Hey, where is everybody?” 

“In the warren,” Novalia answers tersely. She quickly fills him in on the story of the battle so far – but she concludes, “I haven’t heard anything since the lizard men Red Scale and Swims With Fishes said ‘We hear fight,’ and rushed down the hole.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Maybe ten minutes,” she says. “I’m worried.”

“I’ll go check it out,” Stone says. “Maybe they’ll need these three potions of healing we brought.” 

“The far hut,” Novalia says, pointing out the hole everyone has gone down. Stone and Drinks head down the hole.



Below ground, the rest of the group stand in a large oval cavern deep within the ratman warren. A torch flickers weakly on the floor of one end, and more illumination is provided by Chuck’s dagger, which glows with a faint blue light, and a crossbow bolt buried in the far wall. 

The room appears to have once been the warren’s dining hall; it is filled with tipped troughs, tables, and the ‘food’ of the ratmen. The walls are lined with straw and reeds held in place by a mixture of dried mud and excrement. The smell is overwhelming. The corpses of twenty dead ratmen, including that of a great albino warrior and a black-robed shaman, surround the weary company. 

“Everyone, gather around me,” Miriel says, after catching her breath. She is torn and bloodied from a number of wounds – a bite at her neck looks particularly painful. “Paks, Chuck, move some of these corpses to make a space. Telryn, ask Fists of Fury to drag Hands of Fire over here.”

After a minute of moving bodies, the group begins to gather around her in a small clear space in the center of the room. “Join hands in a circle,” she commands. Telryn translates, and the heroes form a circle, surrounding the unconscious body of the huge lizard man. Each is wounded, even the late-arriving lizard men, and most are bleeding from at least one visible wound. Paks and Chuck are still breathing hard.

Miriel draws out Madriel’s Tear in her right hand. It reflects the light of Chuck’s dagger with crystalline clarity. Clutching her holy symbol with her left hand, she intones the words of prophecy which Verenia had spoken to her in Southport. “At your time of greatest fear, surrounded by suffering and pain, remember Madriel’s Tear.” 

She holds the great artifact, a small phial of crystal with a glint of gold inside, into the center of the circle. She prays to Madriel for healing for everyone, but nothing happens. Not even a spark of light illuminates the room.

“I think we need to leave,” she says, shaking her head wearily. “I, for one, need to rest.”

Chuck glances at Paks. “Shall we look at the corpses, first?” 

Telryn shakes his head vigorously. “I need to go,” he says.

“Let’s get back upstairs as quickly as we can,” Miriel suggests

“I want to search the corpses,” Chuck says. “Especially that albino.”

Red Scale says something in Draconic. “He says he’ll stay with you,” Telryn says.

“I should go up,” Paks says, “But here, Chuck, take this longsword. Its better than the one you’re using.” She offers the Vigilant the masterwork longsword, and draws the masterwork bastard sword. “Miriel, I can use this two-handed if you’ll lend me the ‘shield’ ring.” 

“Sure,” Miriel says, taking off the ring. “Let’s send the most wounded upstairs. I’ll stay here with you, Chuck.”

We settle on that plan, sending Telryn, Paks, Fists of Fury, Swims with Fishes up to the surface. The two lizard men are to carry Hands of Fire. Chuck, Miriel, and Red Scale will remain below to search the bodies.

“Send help down,” Miriel admonishes as the two wounded lizard men pick up Hands of Fire. They have just started staggering towards the passage to the exit when four ratmen enter the southeast corner of the great hall. They are each armed with crossbows and they fire at us before we can react. One bolt penetrates Chuck’s leather armor, while another hits Swims With Fishes. The lizard man collapses on the ground. 

Telryn and Paks have opposite reactions. The mage sprints down the tunnel towards the entrance, while Paks charges towards the ratmen, the bastard sword in both hands. She lands a mighty blow with the fine weapon, killing the first before it can unload. The other three all fire at her, point blank. One bolt pierces her mail, hitting her in the stomach, and she falls to floor curled fetal around the wound.

Fists of Fury and Miriel charge at the ratmen, putting themselves between Paks and harm’s way. Fists of Fury’s blow is wild, but Miriel’s spear catches one in the shoulder, wounding it. Chuck, too, leaps to the attack, but he is not used to the balance of Paks’ long sword, and his first swing misses awkwardly. His viper bites the wounded ratman, but it shrugs off the poison. 

Red Scale watches our backs, alert to any other threat entering the hall. On the floor, although nobody is there to pray for healing, or to witness it, Madriel quietly works one more miracle. Swims with Fishes and Paks both stabilize and stop bleeding profusely, though they both remain unconscious. 

The ratmen draw scimitars and square off, one each facing Miriel, Chuck, and Fists of Fury. The wounded ratman catches Miriel in the ribs with his scimitar, but she stays on her feet despite the wound. The second one swings at Chuck, but he parries with the magical dagger, which is illuminating the battle. 

The third one swings at Fists of Fury, but it slips on the blood and corpses of its fellows. Stunned and off balance, it loses his grip on his weapon, flinging it backwards. The wayward scimitar hits the hapless injured ratman, further wounding him. Chuck and Fists of Fury take advantage of its slip to press the attack. Chuck’s sword thrust misses, but Fists of Fury clubs it over the back of the head and kills it. 

On her end of the line, Miriel stabs the injured one with her spear, and kills it. Chuck leaps at the last ratman, dealing a slicing blow with his sword, and when it parries too late, it leaves its chest exposed. The Vigilant follows up by stabbing his dagger deep into its heart. The ratman collapses at his feet, dead.

As Chuck fells the last ratman, a deep voice calls “Hey!” from one of the corridors behind them.

Chuck turns to look around, swords at the ready, but no threat is offered. He can see Red Scale lowering his club back near the exit tunnel. “It’s Stone!” Miriel exclaims joyously.

“I brought some drinks!” Stone calls. 

Chuck begins to clean his sword, and hollers back, “Tell me you didn’t trade the crown for booze.”

“Not that drink,” Stone answers, as he enters the room. “This one!” He gestures to Drinks With Orcs, who stands behind him. “I’ve also got some healing potions.”

“Great,” Miriel says. “Paks could use one.”

The half-orc comes over to where Paks lies on the floor, and pours a potion of healing down her throat. She wakes up, but she looks very groggy. Stone hauls her to her feet, and she starts staggering towards the exit. 

“Grab the unconscious lizard men,” Miriel orders. “Chuck, come on, we don’t have time to loot the bodies.” Stone gestures towards the bodies of the two fallen lizard men, and when he goes to pick up the feet of Swims With Fishes, the surviving lizard men get it. Drinks With Orcs helps him pick up Swims With Fishes, while Fists of Fury and Red Scale pick up Hands of Fire to carry him. 

Miriel yells, “Chuck, guard our backs!” and takes the lead as the motley crew begins to work their way back towards the light of day.



The wounded group escapes up the tunnel and out onto the hilltop without encountering any ambush. Miriel offers a brief prayer of thanks to Madriel.

Outside, Telryn has updated Goldpetal and Novalia about our situation. Goldpetal is close to as exhausted as Miriel is, but he offers, “I think I can work some minor healing.” He prays to Denev, asking healing for Hands of Fire. The druid’s healing is different from the flashy healing which Miriel can offer, but it is enough to bring Hands of Fire to consciousness, although he continues to look grievously weak. 

Miriel, meanwhile, has taken Paks out of her armor, but she is shaking her head. “It looks like you’ve broken two ribs,” she tells the warrior. “And I don’t have the strength to heal them.”

“That would have been the scimitar,” Paks says, remembering the blow she took from the albino.

“Bind them,” Goldpetal says, “And I will ask Denev’s assistance.” Miriel makes a firm bandage around them, and Goldpetal prays to Denev again. Novalia, too, works some minor healing on the warrior, asking Tanil’s assistance. The minor healing seems to make little difference to Paks. 
Miriel continues around the rest of the party, bandaging and tending to wounds as best as she can. Everyone is wounded in many places, and it takes her the better part of an hour to make her way to everyone. While she works, she starts a conversation about what to do next. “Does Red Scale know of a place nearby where we can rest and recover?” she asks.

Telryn confers with Red Scale in Draconic for a moment before answering, “He knows of a place where we could hide, but he thinks there are too many humans here, and the ratmen would be able to track them.”
Paks suggests, “Let’s rest on the roofs of the huts. We’ll be able to see anything long before it gets to us.”

Miriel asks, “Can we make blinds to rest behind?”

Chuck nods. “I think we can work something out.”

“We need to help the slaves,” Novalia reminds us. “Maybe the lizard men could take them to safety somewhere.”

“There’s nowhere safe in the swamp,” Telryn says ominously.

With help from Stone and the tall lizard men, we lift everyone up to the rooftops, including the eighteen slaves. One of the slaves is a dwarf, but the rest are human, mostly male, with a few women. About ten people can fit comfortable on each hut, so we are split nearly evenly among the huts, with the typical hut holding one or two lizard men, two or three of the companions, and six slaves. Most of us lie down to rest – Miriel, Telryn, Goldpetal, Novalia, and Paks are all exhausted. Stone, Chuck, and Drinks With Orcs stand watch, one on each hut. 

Stone cuts a hole in the roof of his hut and watches down the hole for ratmen. Chuck and Drinks see what Stone has done, and likewise cut holes in the roofs of their huts. Chuck watches the edges of the clearing most of the time, glancing down the hole every once in a while. 

Stone and Drinks With Orcs have brought some of the lizard-berry wine with them, which they begin to drink. The dwarf is atop Stone’s hut, and though at first he looks at the half-orc with distrust and suspicion, he becomes much more friendly when Stone offers to share the drink with them. His name is Dorian Silvershield, and when he learns that Stone follows Hedrada, he is much happier to share a drink with him.

Several hours pass. Every now and then, Chuck and Stone see ratmen peering at us from the swamp. Chuck looses a few arrows at them, but like Novalia before him, he doesn’t hit anything. It seems like they might be planning something, but nothing happens.


----------



## Amaroq

*Episode 14 - The Rat Man Warren, Pt II - Episode 2 of 5*

In the late afternoon, Miriel wakes up and begins checking the many wounded. She judges that her own wounds are not serious, and turns to Swims with Fishes, who is still unconscious. She prays to Madriel for healing, and his wounds close beneath her touch. The lizard man wakes up. Paks is in pretty good shape, and she wakes up as Miriel examines her. Though her ribs are still broken, the numerous other cuts and gashes she’s received are mostly healed.


Paks accompanies the priestess as she examines Telryn, and she asks Miriel to show her how to work the healing. Under Miriel’s instruction, Paks prays to Madriel, and the healing is very different. It carries a feeling more like a ritual, and she can feel the power flowing through her hands. Though it takes longer, it is much more complete than her previous healings have been. When she is finished, Telryn’s wounds are merely pink scars, and he feels completely healthy.

They check the other sleepers. Everyone else looks in decent shape, though all of the lizard men are wounded. Nobody is showing signs of disease, which Miriel says is a lucky thing.

They look over the watchers last, and when they get to Chuck, Miriel can see instantly that he’s in very bad shape. He seems dizzy and loopy, and though he insists that he’s okay, his wounds have soaked through the bandages Miriel put on him, which are now wet to the touch. When she pulls them off, and removes his armor, it is clear that his wounds are severe. Paks again completes the healing ritual she has learned, but Chuck’s wounds are far beyond her powers, and though she heals him, he is far from well. When she is finished, Miriel points out to her that Chuck is getting some sort of rash on his arm. She’s not sure what it is, but thinks that it may be the beginning of Corpse Blisters, which we would not be able to treat. 

Stone and Miriel hand out all of their food, and some drinks, to the slaves. The slaves are extremely grateful.

“Let’s rest until early evening,” Miriel says, “Another two hours or so. I don’t want to spend the night here.”

Stone asks the dwarf, Dorian, to watch down the hole while he naps. Novalia also stands watch until evening.



When we awaken, it is early evening. The sun is beginning to set, but the light of her rays still reaches the hilltop, bathing everything in a reddish hue.  Paks and Miriel check in on Chuck. The corpse blisters, brought on by his fight with the dead-eaters, are clearly visible now, and are spreading all over his chest and arms. Paks kneels over him and prays to Madriel, and to Miriel’s astonishment and surprise, the corpse blisters subside at her request.

“You truly must be favored by Madriel,” she tells Paks. “Removing such a disease is beyond even my abilities.” The priestess works her healing on Chuck, then. His many wounds require two lengthy attempts, but she is able to close his wounds to slight scars and scabs, and he feels much better when the two have finished.

Nobody else needs much more healing, and Paks finishes their tour of the wounded by praying the healing spell upon herself. It works just as well, and she feels much better.

Hands of Fire sniffs the air and looks around nervously. “Storm’s coming in,” he warns. 

Chuck sharpens his sword. “Let’s go finish this.”

“We can’t take the slaves with us,” Novalia objects.

Miriel suggests, “Hands of Fire and Fists of Fury, you take the slaves to shelter nearby. We’ll go in and finish clearing out this warren.”

Dorian, who will be going with the refugees, tells us, “There are still people missing.”

“We’ll try to find them,” Paks assures him. 

Stone gives Telryn a healing potion to carry. Chuck casts _magic fang_ on his snake, a spell which should increase the black viper’s efficiency. Telryn casts _mage armor_ on himself and Miriel. As Hands of Fire leads the slaves away, the rest of us file into the third hut.



We head back down the same hole that we went down before, the lone hole in the third hut. Stone and Drinks go first. Chuck’s magical dagger provides some light, while Telryn carries a torch near the back of the party as well. 

We come into the first small room, which is filled with piles of cloth. There are three ratman bodies there, which Chuck searches, but they have already been looted. 

The rest of us move towards the room where we found the slaves, then continue towards the large room where the big fight was. We get to the small side room; it smells terrible in here – we see a lot of bowls on the floor and decide it must be a toilet. The bowls have been knocked over in the melee. It’s a gross mess. 

We continue into the large hall. The bodies are all still here, perhaps twenty of them. Stone, Goldpetal, and the lizard men fan out to watch the various entrances. 

Chuck steps over to search the albino. “Careful,” Paks says, putting out a hand to restrain him, but he just hands her the glowing dagger and gives the albino a cursory search. 

“Curses!” he grumbles. “The scimitar is gone.”

Telryn searches the priest. “Chuck,” he says, “You might be interested in this. It’s got silver wire and some pieces of jade woven into its fur.”

Chuck lights a torch, which he sets in the middle of the room, and comes over to look, while Miriel searches the warriors. They are all wearing silver trinkets. The shaman’s retinue wear gold wire and quartz jewelry dangling from their jaws. 

Paks bends down to look at the albino. It also has jewelry woven into its fur, this time gold and sapphires. “Telryn,” she motions him over. “Here,” she says, and hands over a bone scroll tube which she found on the albino.

Chuck takes the time to cut all the jewelry from the ratmen’s fur. He detaches five pieces of jade, seven sapphires, and sixteen pieces of quartz. 

Telryn opens the scroll tube and finds a scroll within. He looks at it, but shakes his head. “It’s in ratman writing,” he says. “I’ll need to study it later.” He puts it in his pack. 



We start down the corridor to the south, into unexplored territory. Miriel, one of the last to leave, grabs Chuck’s torch from the middle of the room. 

Stone leads us about twenty feet down the corridor, where we come to another large room, about thirty feet across. There are two exits to the left and one to the right. There are four huge bowls of brass on wooden stands, forming the corners of a square in the middle of a room. There are worn rugs on the floor. Stone steps into the room, motioning for Drinks to wait at the opening.

Stone pokes at the rugs with the ten-foot pole, lifting them up. There’s just mud flooring underneath. He walks up to one of the brass bowls and looks inside. He sees a mixture of blood and excrement and mud. He pokes it with his dagger and it swirls. “It looks like a ritual took place here,” he says, motioning the rest of us to come into the room.

Stone moves to the first corridor to the left and looks down it. Chuck looks down the next one to the left. Drinks looks out to the right. He just sees a corridor, but Stone and Chuck see that the corridors open up into two different rooms. In his, about five feet away, Stone sees lots of mats on the floor, a bookshelf, some hangings on the walls, and all sorts of murals. The room is about thirty feet around. He tells Paks what he sees, “I see a big room, with books. Telryn will want to see it.”

Miriel comes into the room with the bowls and sketches a symbol of Madriel on the wall near Chuck. 

“Let’s go this way,” Paks says, gesturing to the corridor as Stone heads down it. Goldpetal, Drinks, and Novalia stay in the previous room, watching down the adjoining corridors.

Stone steps into the room, and finds it unoccupied. There are two exits, one to the right and one straight ahead. When Chuck arrives with the glowing dagger, we can see that there are two or three sleeping mats. There are several bookshelves, with many books on the shelves. The murals depict suffering figures, rats chewing their way through tunnels of flesh, and various religious symbols. 

Stone goes to the corridor to the right. Looking down it, with his excellent night vision, he sees a twenty by ten room, which he thinks probably joins up with the corridor Goldpetal is watching. There are exits to the right and left. Paks motions Miriel and Telryn to come up.

Goldpetal, still looking down one of the corridors from the room with the brass bowls, can see the room at the end by the light of Miriel’s torch, which is coming down Stone’s passage. It has with several shallow pits and eight stone blocks with chains and iron loops. Stone walks into the room, and waves at Goldpetal. Goldpetal comes in, collapsing our perimeter to cover the only other exit from that room. 

Looking out from the room with the bookshelves and murals, Chuck sees what looks like a very large room, about twenty feet down the corridor. He can see some tapestries on the walls. Stone comes back to Chuck. 

Telryn starts searching the library. “This look’s like priest’s quarters,” he says. Paks asks Miriel and Novalia to search as well, then motions in the lizard men. Stone begins walking off down Chuck’s corridor, towards the larger chamber.



Stone walks down the corridor towards the larger chamber Chuck had seen. Chuck follows him, with Miriel third in line, ignoring Paks’ request. 

Stone can see several tapestries and a chest in the large room. There are more bookshelves, and a pile of skulls in the corner. 

As Stone steps into the room, four wolf-sized rats attack him. “Found ’em!” Stone calls. One of them bites him, but the others miss. He feels weaker, as though the bite has sapped his strength. Behind the rats, he can see a large ratman priest, against the left wall, who appears to be casting a spell.

Chuck shouts, “Wolf-rats!” as Telryn and Paks run down the corridor behind Miriel.

Stone tumbles past the wolf-rats to attack the priest. The wolf-rats snap at him, but miss. One leaps in the air, but falls awkwardly, landing on its side. Stone tries to punch the priest, but his roll came up just short. Paks pushes past everyone else, stepping through the wolf-rats. She stabs a wolf-rat as she goes past, wounding it. Paks stands back-to-back with Stone, between him and the wolf-rats. 

Chuck steps into the room, with Goldpetal directly behind him, scimitar drawn.  The priest casts his spell, and suddenly a swarm of centipedes appears around Chuck. He screams, and steps out of the centipedes, swinging at the wolf-rats with Paks’ longsword and his magical dagger. He wounds the injured one further, catching it with the tip of the sword, but it is still fighting. One of the wolf-rats bites Chuck, while two of them bite Paks, but whatever the weakness Stone experienced, neither of the humans feels. The bites are ferocious, however.

The priest pulls out a red pearl with his left hand, points at Stone, calls out “Stone” and mumbles something else. Stone feels waves of pain racking his body. While the priest is concentrated on the half-orc, the viper attacks the priest and bites it on the foot. 

Miriel steps back out of the way of the corridor entrance, and prays to Madriel to _bless_ everyone. Telryn casts a quick cantrip, and a _ray of cold_ shoots from his finger, dispersing the swarm of centipedes.  Drinks with Orcs runs down the hall towards the sound of fighting. Red Scale, Novalia, and Swims With Fishes all wait, watching their respective corridors in rooms behind us.

Stone, enraged by the pain, aims a flurry of blows against the priest. One punch hits the priest, hard, and the priest shakes its head as though to clear it. The ratman steps back and drinks a potion. The priest’s fur begins to harden and turn a dark brown, as his skin turns into bark. The viper bites the priest again, but it can’t penetrate the thick bark.  

Paks, Goldpetal, and Chuck continue to battle the wolf-rats, but only Chuck manages to connect. He further wounds the injured one, which is moving slowly though it still fights on. Drinks with Orcs charges out of the corridor and smashes one of the wolf-rats with a great overhand blow, injuring it badly. One of the others bites Drinks with Orcs, while the injured one attacks Paks weakly. It looks very surprised when she blocks it with the invisible barrier of the ‘shield’ ring.

Another of the wolf-rats leaps on Goldpetal, biting him and clawing him. He throws it to the ground, and as it lies stunned briefly, he and Chuck both swing swords at it. Both hit it, hard, and the wolf-rat looks near death. Somehow, it struggles to its feet and faces Goldpetal, snarling.

The fourth wolf-rat takes advantage of Chuck’s momentary distraction, biting and clawing him. The young swordsman cries out, “Healing!” Telryn, behind him, steps into the room, and hands Chuck the healing potion.

Stone continues to advance on the priest, who retreats before his flurry of blows. None of Stone’s punches seem to connect hard enough to bruise through the _barkskin_. The priest continues to fall back, and drinks another potion. His mouth grows huge and he gets warts on his face – he looks as if he has half turned into a giant frog. The viper bites the priest again, and although this time it looks like he’s punctured the skin, his poison doesn’t seem to be killing the priest. 

Paks swings the bastard sword, two handed, at the wounded wolf-rat, and finishes it off. Goldpetal chops at the weakened one in front of him and slices its belly open. Chuck attacks the remaining two wolf-rats with his dagger and sword and hits both, killing the injured one with his dagger and wounding the last wolf-rat with the longsword.

Swims with Fishes rushes into the room and attacks the wolf-rat, but he falls as he tries to stop on the bloodied floor. The wolf-rat bites him as he hits the ground, and his club skids across the floor to the far side of the room. Before anyone can react, the wolf-rat leaps on the prone lizard man, biting and clawing at him until Swims with Fishes unconscious. Goldpetal wounds it with his scimitar and it turns on him.

Drinks with Orcs rushes past the last wolf-rat to charge at the priest. He smashes at it with the great club, but the priest ducks and Drinks knocks a chunk of rock off the wall behind it. Telryn casts a _magic missile_ at the priest, and his twin bolts of magical energy burn its flesh.

Stone grabs the priest and attempts to grapple it. The priest tries to bite him, but the half-orc holds its snarling jaws away with one hand. They are locked in a grip for a brief moment, but then the priest throws the half-orc off. Paks takes advantage of Stone’s attack to slip around behind the priest, and she hits it from behind. The fine bastard sword cuts deeply through the barkskin to wound it.  

The priest pulls out the glowing scimitar that we saw the albino use before. Paks shouts “Beware!” just as it attacks Stone, and he steps back just in time. The priest’s tongue whips out, like that of the frog he resembles, and tries to grab Stone. Though startled, the young monk dodges gracefully, and the tongue whips past him.

Chuck drinks his potion of _healing_ and moves behind the wolf-rat, which whirls to face him. Between them, he and Goldpetal have driven it back off of Swims with Fishes, and Miriel darts out into the room to pull him back towards the safety of the corridor. 

Red Scale runs towards the room to see what’s going on. With everyone but her now in the room with the priest, Novalia retreats toward the fighting, guarding the room behind us from the end of the corridor. 

Drinks with Orcs swings his club against the priest, but again he misses. Between them, Stone, Drinks, and Paks have the priest backed up against the wall, and it has nowhere to retreat to. Telryn casts a _ray of frost_ at the priest, further wounding it. Stone punches him, a hard blow, and the priest fights like the cornered rat that it is.

Paks attacks the priest with the bastard sword, but she misses, overextending herself. The priest hits her with the scimitar. As when the albino hit her, she feels a deep evil malice from the sword itself, but the priest is shocked to see that it has no effect on her other than to injure her. “Goldpetal!” she yells out, “Healing!”  

The wolf-rat bites at Chuck, but as it does, Goldpetal attacks from behind, slicing it deeply with his scimitar. When it whirls to face him, Chuck deals a killing blow, bringing the fine longsword down through its back, severing its spine. 

The priest’s tongue whips out towards Paks and grabs her. She is wrapped in a sticky tongue, and it begins to pull her towards the priest’s mouth. Drinks with Orcs swings his club at the priest, but misses. Finally, Red Scale reaches the priest, and with a single two-handed blow from his great club, he brains it over the head. 

The priest’s eyes roll back in its head, and the tongue goes limp, releasing Paks. With its last gasps of breath it utters, “Chern... is... coming...” 

Stone stomps on the dying priest’s head, crushing it, and silence reigns.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #14: The Rat Man Warren, Pt II - Episode 3 of 5*

This room is reminiscent of the previous one, with bookshelves lining the walls. There is a chest near the priest’s body, a pile of old skulls, perhaps a hundred of them, against the far wall, and a table stands in the middle of the room. We are clearly in the heart of the priest’s quarters. Three corridors lead off the far wall, one to the left, one to the right, and one in the middle.

Miriel bandages Swims with Fishes while Paks picks herself up. Goldpetal invokes Denev to heal Paks, and Miriel checks Chuck, who says he’s okay. He steps over to the far wall, to stand watch looking down the middle corridor. Stone and Drinks With Orcs take up places standing watch over the other two corridors, while Novalia continues to guard our backs, watching over the entry corridor. On the way to his corridor, Stone shoves his pole into the skulls. They tumble and roll, but there is nothing underneath them. Looking at them more closely, he sees that they look like elf skulls. He glances at Goldpetal, but shakes his head and doesn’t say anything.

Paks takes a rag out of her bag and cautiously uses it to pick up the scimitar, taking care not to touch either hilt or blade. Even through the rag, she can sense evil emanating from the blade. She removes the sheathe from the priest’s corpse and sheathes the weapon, placing it carefully in her pack. Then she turns her attention to the priest’s body. In its left hand it still holds the red pearl, which she also picks up. She notes some obsidian and silver woven into its fur, which she points out to Chuck.

Goldpetal walks over to look at a chest against the wall, near the priest’s body. Red Scale follows to examine the chest with him. They use Goldpetal’s scimitar to pry open the chest. It opens easily, and there is no trap on it. Within, it is filled with coins. Uninterested, they close it, and move away. Miriel calls Goldpetal over, “Goldpetal, Swims with Fishes needs healing. He’s awake, but very weak.”

The three individuals looking down the corridors see that they are each about five feet long, and all open into small caverns. Chuck sees some statues, while Stone sees a bunch of bookshelves and calls to Telryn, “Hey, Telryn, more books.” Drinks with Orcs sees lots of chests, and the gleam of gold catches his eye. 

Seeing treasure, Drinks with Orcs heads down his corridor. He walks into a small room. It is filled with baskets and rough chests, overflowing with jewelry, gold bars, and piles of coins. There’s a ton of treasure there. As he leaves his post, Paks steps over to cover the corridor to the treasure room, but Chuck and Stone, too, are walking off down their corridors! “Guys!” she calls, but they each ignore her.  

Chuck finds a similar small room. In it, he finds that the statues are fifteen or more life-sized, waxy figures of humans and elves, each in what seems like torment. As he approaches one, he realizes that it appears to be a magically preserved body. Each of them are, and they are each disfigured with various diseases. Recoiling in horror, he yells, “Ewww! … Miriel!”

Stone walks down the short corridor towards the room with the books. He pauses at the threshold, listening to be sure nothing lurks in ambush, but he hears nothing. He steps into the room, which is lined with bookshelves. “Telryn!” he calls out again, and grabs one off the shelf. The room is remarkably dry for being in a swamp, and the book is in excellent condition. 

In the central room, Drinks With Orcs returns, draped with gold chains and carrying jewels in his hands. “Wow, let’s loot that room,” Paks says. She calls back over her shoulder, “Novalia, keep watching our backs!”

The others, however, answer to the calls of their names. Miriel goes to Chuck, entering the room with the waxen figures. Careful not to touch anything, she examines the figures as Chuck watches her back. “They’re all dead,” she says. “Each is infected with a different disease, all in a late stage of advancement. It’s like a museum of diseases,” she says, “Or maybe a study hall. I’m not sure if they’re infectious or not – let’s get the others and leave.” Chuck needs no further urging to leave the disturbing room, and the priestess follows right behind him.

Goldpetal and Telryn walk down into the book room and begin inspecting the books, slipping past Stone as he heads back to the central room. Most of the books are in Slytherin, but some are in human languages and some are in elvish. Nothing jumps out at them instantly, but there are over two hundred volumes, and many of them could be valuable. Goldpetal tries to see if any of the elvish tomes are particularly old. He finds one that does look unusually old, and places it in his pack. Telryn searches and picks two tomes that look particularly valuable. “I wish I could take them all!” he says, but he knows that the entire library would be too heavy.

In the central room, Miriel and Chuck arrive back just as Stone does. Miriel looks grim, and says, “We should gather everyone and get out of here. There’s too much disease down here. We should leave.” 

“But we just found the treasure,” Paks says, pointing to Drinks with Orcs, who is draped in gold.

Miriel shakes her head, and turns to Chuck. “Help me gather everyone,” she orders.

Chuck looks at Paks grimly, and says, “She’s right. We need to get out of here.”

“Why?” Paks asks. “What did you see?”

Chuck explains, “There are a bunch of dead bodies, preserved in various states of infection down there. It looks like a hideous wax museum.” 
Paks immediately looks concerned. “Are they carrying the diseases, breeding them?” she asks, as Telryn returns from the library.

Miriel shakes her head. “It just looks like training, but no less dangerous for all that.”

Stone and Drinks with Orcs head back to the treasure room, and Telryn goes with them. 

Paks looks after them, and tells Miriel, “We’ll go shortly.”

In the treasure chamber, Stone starts grabbing jewelry and gold, stuffing it into his sack. Drinks with Orcs starts to help, but Telryn says, “Stop! Wait a minute, while I check for magic.”

They stand, shifting impatiently, as Telryn casts _detect magic_ on the room. He finds two rings, a small silver ring and a wooden ring wrapped with silver wires. “Both of these are clearly magic, enchantments of some kind,” he says, picking them up. He scans around the room briefly, then adds, “Nothing else.” He turns and walks back towards the main room.

Stone and Drinks fill Stone’s sack, and still there is more. They fill his canvas, then finally Stone takes off his shirt and fills that with gold, too. 

When Telryn reaches the main room, Paks asks him, “Can you look at the red stone and the scimitar?”

He nods, and has her place them on the table in the main room. As she sets them down, she notices that there are ten vials on the table. “Hey, check these out,” she says.

The mage has maintained his concentration, and is still able to _detect magic_ from his earlier casting of the spell. As he steps up, he points to two of the potions. “Those two are magical,” he says. After studying the two artifacts Paks has picked up, he says, “The scimitar has some sort of necromancy on it, while the pearl is a conjuration. I can’t learn more than that without spending the better part of a day studying.”

While he examined the magic, Miriel had been examining the other eight vials on the table. Now she looks up. “These five are poisons,” she says, “But these three are glitter ink.”

“Really?” Telryn exclaims. He gets very excited and grabs them. “My master will be so pleased!” 

“Can I have the poisons?” Chuck asks. Nobody else seems to care, so he picks them up.

“Where’s Goldpetal?” Miriel asks. “We should go.”

Telryn glances over into the library room, and says, “He’s still studying the books.”

“Come on,” Miriel says. “We have to go.” Stone comes walking out, heavily loaded with treasure. He seems to stagger under a great weight.

Paks picks up the scimitar and the red pearl, and places them back in her pack. “I think we should burn the study room,” she says, “To kill off the diseases.”

Telryn and Miriel in unison exclaim, “That’s a horrible idea!” When Paks looks confused, Telryn explains, “If any of them are transmitted by air, we could all catch it.” 

“We could lay a trail of books,” Stone suggests, “Out to the entrance, and light them on fire.” Telryn looks at him as though even suggesting that is sacrilegious.

“Do we want to go back above ground,” Paks asks. “Or finish clearing the warren out? We haven’t found the slaves we came down to rescue yet.”

Miriel opens her mouth as though to disagree, then shakes her head. “You’re right, of course,” she says. “We have to continue looking for them.”

Telryn looks in the drawers of the table, and finds two vials of acid, which he takes. 

Paks asks, “What did Goldpetal find in the chest?” Everybody in the room shrugs, so she walks over to the chest.

She opens the chest, and finds it full of gold coins. She pokes around to see if there’s anything under the gold coins, but she doesn’t find anything. “Hey, these coins are unusual,” she says. “I don’t recognize them.”

Telryn comes over to look over her shoulder. “Yeah, look,” he says, “They’re not just Veshian. These are from all over the land.”  There are some that none of us recognize, and at a quick estimate, we guess that there are over ten thousand of them. 

Paks tries to pick up the chest, but she can’t even budge it by herself.

“If we’re fighting,” Miriel says, “We should go before our spells wear off.” The blessing has worn off, but the _mage armor_ is still active. 

“Goldpetal!” Chuck yells, “Let’s go!”

Reluctantly, the elf leaves the library, and follows us as we go to clear the rest of the warren.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #14: The Rat Man Warren, Pt II - Episode 4 of 5*

Stone, despite the burden of his treasure-filled sack, continues to lead the group, with Drinks with Orcs, Chuck, and Paks behind him. We return to the room with the pits and tables, and see a narrow corridor, about ten feet long, leading off into another room. About five feet down it branches off to the right. 

Stone stops and listens before heading down the corridor. He hears a moaning sound, as though of a creature in pain or despair, emanating from the room at the end. He walks up to the branch and peeks around, but can’t see anything, so he continues to the room and peeks in. It is roughly thirty feet around. There are fifteen slaves caged in reed cages, and manacled. Two exits lead from the far side.

“Found ’em!” the half-orc calls, in a loud deep voice. He enters the room. The sick people don’t respond to his presence. A few are tracking his movement with their eyes apathetically, but many of the others don’t seem to respond even that much, and several have their eyes closed. They all look extremely ill. 

“Miriel!” Stone calls for the priestess as Drinks with Orcs follows him in. Chuck stops to stand guard over the branching corridor. Paks walks across the slave chamber to guard one of the exits on the far side. 

Miriel steps into the room, and looks at the sick people. It doesn’t take a moment before she exclaims, “Oh, Goddess! Everyone stop!” We all freeze, and she explains in a more normal voice. “This room is filled with people nearly dead of Slimy Doom! Don’t touch them, or anything else. We think it’s airborne, so everyone who hasn’t come in, stay out of this room.”

Stone and Miriel look around the room. In addition to the reed cages, they see a number of bowls, tools and grails.  

“We should get out of here, right now,” Miriel says.

Paks looks at the suffering slaves, with compassion in her eyes, and says, “We should put them out of their suffering.” 

Miriel looks at her grimly, and says, “You do it. I suspect the goddess will protect you.”

“Will you administer last rites?” asks Paks, her voice almost timid.

Miriel’s face softens, and she says, “Of course.”

As they are talking, Stone steps down the far corridor. He can see a small room with a big pit in the center, and as he gets closer, he can see slime and gore on the outside of the pit. He drops his sack in the corridor, and steps into the room to look into the pit. As he leans over the edge, eight tentacles writhe up out of the pit, trying to grab at him. He dives out of the way, leaps back down the corridor, and shouts a warning. “Snakes!”

Stone swings at one of the tentacles, but instinct tells him to stay far away, and he misses. Paks draws her bastard sword and waits in the slave room to see what the monster is. Miriel backs towards the corridor we came in from, with her spear out. “Everyone, stay out of the disease room,” she admonishes.

Behind her, Chuck moves down the branching corridor, but still doesn’t see anything. Novalia covers the rear.

Something like a cross between a centipede and a Chthulhu monster crawls up out of the pit towards Stone. It grabs at him with all eight of its tentacles. Three of them find a grip, and pull him off his feet. He stiffens as he falls, and Paks yells, “Stone’s paralyzed!”

Paks charges it, yelling, “Help me!” However, she is still not used to the balance of the bastard sword, and she overbalances herself trying to make a running swing at the beast. On the slimy floor, she is unable to recover her footing. She loses her weapon, cutting herself, and stumbles into its tentacles. It grabs her as well, and she, too is paralyzed.

Telryn sees this disaster, and runs through the slave’s room. He pulls out a scroll and reads a spell from it. A bright _flash_ appears in the monster’s face, but it is not stunned. Drinks with Orcs grabs Paks and Stone and pulls them back down the corridor. Red Scale sees what he’s doing and helps him drag them out.

Goldpetal draws his bow, while Miriel calls, “Chuck! Come back! Get your bow ready!” She steps towards the monster with her spear out, but she is afraid to get too close to the tentacles. The monster is following Paks and Stone, but the two lizard men dragging them are able to keep just ahead of the questing tentacles. They have dragged the two fallen heroes all the way back into the slave’s chamber. 

Chuck and Novalia step forward, with their bows ready, and shoot at it. Chuck wounds it, but Novalia’s shot bounces harmlessly off of its thick hide. Goldpetal yells, “It’s a carrion crawler! Stay clear of the tentacles!”

The carrion crawler leaps forward into the slave’s chamber, and bites the helpless half-orc, who looks badly hurt. The slaves all cower away from the edge of their cages, looking very disturbed. Telryn casts a _ray of frost_, which barely seems to injure it. Chuck shoots it again. Drinks with Orcs and Red Scale keep dragging Stone and Paks back, and Miriel stands resolutely between the monster and its prey, spear at the ready. 

Goldpetal yells something in a strange language and punches the ground. A visible _shockwave_ travels across the floor, from his fist towards the carrion crawler, but it misses. Some stones fall from the ceiling, but the hideous monster seems unaffected.

Just as the carrion crawler reaches Miriel, Chuck draws his bow one more time, and this shot buries itself deep in the beast’s head. It collapses, lifeless, on top of Stone and Paks.

Miriel shudders. “Thank you, My Lady,” she says in prayer to Madriel. “Let’s get out of here. Stone, pick those guys...oh...” 

Drinks with Orcs and Red Scale move the heavy corpse off of its two victims, and Miriel checks for a pulse. “They’re both still alive,” she says.

Goldpetal nods. “The carrion crawler will leave them paralyzed for a time, long enough for it to eat its prey, but it should wear off soon enough.”

“We have to get away from this,” Miriel says, gesturing to the slaves, who have returned to their apathy, with the carrion crawler gone.

Drinks with Orcs picks Stone up off the ground and carries him out, while Red Scale picks up Paks. Telryn says, “Let’s go rest in the library.”  He bends over to drag Stone’s sack of jewels with us. 

We all pack ourselves into the library, an uncomfortable fit in such a small space. Only Goldpetal seems happy, perusing more books. While we wait for Stone and Paks to recover from their paralysis, we discuss our next plan.

“What do we do now?” asks Chuck.

“I think we should rest here,” Telryn responds. 

Miriel’s reluctance is clear in her voice, but she says, “I agree. It’ll be dark out, by now. I think we should stay and recover overnight.”

Goldpetal shakes his head. Without looking up from his book, he says, “We should stay for as short a time as necessary.”

Chuck says, “I agree. I can explore while you rest.”

Miriel shakes her head firmly. “No. We all stay together.” She looks at Chuck until he nods in agreement. “Goldpetal, are you willing to rest for four hours?” she asks the elf.

“If we must,” he answers.

The two lizard men stand watch, while Chuck meditates to learn _alarm_, another new spell he has learned. All of the rest of us rest. 



After an hour, the paralysis has worn off, and Stone and Paks are able to move. Chuck has learned the new spell, and he sets the password as “Goldpetal sucks,” which amuses Stone greatly. Paks goes to sleep, while Stone and Chuck relieve the lizard men of the watch.

Another hour later, Paks wakes and heals herself, taking care of as much as she is able. Goldpetal also feels better, and prays for healing from Denev again. He heals Paks, himself, Stone, and Chuck. Novalia also heals Chuck. Those three return to sleep to regain the energy they’ve expended on the healings.

While everyone sleeps, Chuck searches the room again, checking for secret doors. He spends about an hour, restless, but finds nothing. Just as he’s most itching to go explore, despite Miriel’s admonition against it, the _alarm_ rings. It makes an audible ringing, as though of a small bell.

Stone goes to look down the corridor, and he sees five giant rats scurrying around. Though larger than a normal rat, they aren’t anywhere near as large as the wolf-rats we battled earlier.

“Fellas,” Stone calls quietly, “Got rats over here.” 

“Give me space to shoot,” Chuck says, drawing his bow. 

“Go ahead,” the half-orc says, stepping back out of the opening. 

Chuck shoots twice. His first shot hits, pegging one rat to the ground, where it thrashes in death spasms for a moment. The viper slithers forward to attack another rat, but the rats are scattering and running. Chuck’s second shot, the bow slips, and his arrow shatters off the stone wall near Stone. Stone jumps back. By the time Chuck recovers, the surviving rats have all disappeared into the darkness, and he calls his snake back.

The rest of us are still sleeping, undisturbed, so Chuck goes down to the laboratory, which is still within the radius of the _alarm_ spell. He searches it thoroughly, but doesn’t find anything we hadn’t already found.

After another forty minutes, the _alarm_ goes off again. Seven more rats are approaching the laboratory. Chuck steps over to shoot at them again, but when they see him, they scatter. 

Paks, Miriel, and Goldpetal wake up. Paks heals Miriel and Goldpetal heals Telryn. They discuss quietly what to do, and agree to rest for two more hours. Chuck decides to meditate to memorize _magic fang_, since he can only have one spell memorized at a time and we no longer need the _alarm_. Stone and Drinks with Orcs stand watch.



After forty minutes, the _alarm_ goes off again. Stone looks down the corridor, but doesn’t see anything. There are no rats in evidence. “Uh, guys?” Stone says. “Wake up. Trouble.”

Chuck and Novalia stand up, drawing their bows almost in unison, and knocking arrows. Red Scale and Drinks with Orcs stand as well. Paks rolls over, and says, “Call for help if you need it.” She, Telryn, Goldpetal, and Miriel continue to rest.

Stone heads down the corridor into the darkened laboratory. He peers down the outbound corridors, but doesn’t see anything. Chuck and the two lizard men follow him, while Novalia listens for trouble from the confines of the library. Swims with Fishes looks into the treasure room.

Abruptly, the ground gives way, and a bunch of emaciated ghoul-like creatures crawl up out of the dirt floor.  

Stone yells, “Dead-eaters!”

There are four dead-eaters, and, with dirt still falling from their heads and shoulders, they begin grappling at Stone, Chuck, and Drinks with Orcs. Two attack Chuck, and he fires his bow into one at point blank range, while Stone and Drinks with Orcs each have one to deal with.  They each take a swing at the dead-eaters as they clamber out of the earth, but both miss.

The two dead-eaters attacking Chuck claw for him, but he steps back out of the way as he drops his bow on the floor and draws Paks’ sword and the glowing magical dagger. 

The one near Stone had burrowed its way up under the table, and as it attacks him, it conks its head on the edge of the wooden table. While it is stunned, Stone punches it, a solid blow to the face. The one attacking Drinks with Orcs grabs him, but he shakes it off, and it falls on the ground. One claw catches him on the leg, ripping open a gaping wound on the back of his calf.

In the library, Goldpetal and Paks scramble out of their bedrolls. Goldpetal draws his scimitar and runs past Novalia, while Paks scrambles to grab her sword. She isn’t wearing her armor, but realizes that it will take her too long to put it on, so she follows him. “I’ll watch the sleepers,” Novalia tells her. Red Scale stands guard with her.

In the laboratory, the dead-eaters continue to press the attack. One claws at Chuck, but it falls over the corpse of one of the wolf-rats. Before it can get up, Chuck drills it in the back with the fine longsword, and his viper bites it. Drinks with Orcs tries to club it, but he misses. 

Chuck’s second dead-eater attacks Drinks while he’s extended, but just as it leaps at him Swims with Fishes charges into the fray, clubbing it solidly. This throws off its aim, and before it can recover, Chuck’s longsword slices deep into its belly. It collapses, dead. 

The fallen one clambers to its feet, and Chuck cuts it with his dagger as he tries to free his sword from the dead one. 

Stone tumbles past the dead-eaters, trying to get to the opposite side of the room to flank them. As he rolls past, one of the dead-eaters claws him, a nasty wound along his left thigh. As he comes out of the roll, he punches at it, but it dodges the blow. Focused on him, it doesn’t see Drinks with Orcs, who clubs it over the head. Goldpetal slides in along the wall of the room, and attacks the dead eater which is under the table, but his scimitar clips off of a table leg. 

All of the dead-eaters save one, at this point, have fumbled an attack of some sort. The sole dead-eater which hadn’t attacks Swims with Fishes with claw and tooth. It bites him, but then stumbles, losing its balance as well. As it falls, Stone whirls and punches it, cracking open its skull and killing it. Swims with Fishes drops back, bleeding, to let the rest of us deal with the two remaining dead-eaters.

Paks steps in to the gap and attacks one of the two remaining dead eaters, but her blow misses wildly, and Goldpetal leaps back out of the way. Chuck runs it through, and scores his second kill of the battle. 

The viper bites the last one, but it is Stone who deals the death blow. He steps forward and, with a flurry of blows, pulps its head. 

Paks wipes bits of dead-eater from her face “I have never seen anybody punch for as much gore as you generate,” she tells the half-orc, who smiles and cracks his knuckles. 

We return to the library to finish our rest. Paks dons her armor and joins Stone in the watch, but we make it through the next two hours undisturbed.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #14: The Rat Man Warren, Pt II - Episode 5 of 5*

We awaken some time after midnight, on Hedraday, the fourth day of Madrer. 

Paks has a grim face, at odds with her normal likeable disposition. “Let’s do this,” she tells Miriel. Miriel nods, with a similar look on her face. The rest of us follow, in somber silence, as Paks and Miriel walk back to the slave chamber.

It is a small chamber, containing fifteen slaves, who are chained with iron inside reed cages. The corpse of the carrion crawler lies on the floor here, as well, where we felled it. The slaves are all sick with the Slimy Doom, their interior organs already decayed past the point where recovery is possible.

Paks draws her short sword, which she has been carrying in case her long sword breaks or is lost. She has only used it once, during the siege of Kratys Freehold. With her eyes closed and head bowed, she says, “May the people who are dispatched with this sword have Madriel's mercy on them.”

Miriel performs last rites from the doorway, as Paks walks through the cages and slits their throats. The slaves watch her dully, without interest.
In the last cage, one of the slaves, a woman, says, “Thank you, my lady,” before the blade ends her misery.

When the deed is done, Paks lays the bodies out in respectful positions, and she leaves the short sword across the chest of the woman who spoke.

She stands back a moment, in respectful silence, head bowed.



When she feels there is nothing more she can do for them, Paks takes a torch, and steps past the slave chamber to investigate the other rooms. The rest of us wait behind Miriel, fearful of infection. 

Paks starts in the room with the pit where the carrion crawler lived. The floor is covered in bloody slime. It looks as though the ratmen scrape all the loose material off the bodies. The pit is thirty feet deep and filled with rotting flesh and bones. It smells vile, and there’s a charnel gas coming up from it. There are symbols written on the floor around the pit with glitter ink. Paks tries to erase the symbols, but they are unaffected. 

She walks back to the group, and says, “Telryn, how do you remove glitter ink?”

“It’s impossible,” he says, “Save with a spell. That’s why it is so highly sought.”

“Do you know the spell?”

“Nay, I’m afraid I do not,” he says.

Paks looks thoughtful for a moment. “Miriel, can I borrow your chalk?”

The priestess complies, and Paks takes the chalk back to the room. She draws Madriel’s symbols on the walls around the room. The hideous stench of the gas from the pit drives her back out, but, standing in the doorway, she mimics Miriel’s words from earlier, invoking Madriel to offer last rites for the remains in the pit. 

She looks down the next hallway, but it extends longer than she can see by torch light. She begins walking down it, and after she goes about fifteen feet, she sees that it ends in a thatched doorway. 

She comes back and checks the last hallway. It looks into another very small room, which she enters. There are many nets hung from the ceiling and hundreds of stoppered bottles. In a rack on the wall there are lots of scraping tools, and there are dozens of empty bottles and stoppers. There is also a table with scrolls and ledgers. “Telryn will want these,” she says, and picks up the scrolls and the ledger to bring with her. 

Looking around, she decides to destroy the potion-maker’s equipment, lest the ratmen return and begin using them again. “I’m going to break some glass,” she yells back to the rest of the group. “It’s okay.” She places ten small empty vials in her backpack, and then takes the rest of the bottles, empties and stoppered potions alike, and throws them all into the pit, making sure that she throws them hard enough to break. As she’s breaking them, she sees that some of them are quite old, from before the Titan’s War, and others have labels from places she’s never heard of. It’s a strange assortment, but she does not stop. 

When she has finished, she comes back and describes it all to the group. When she mentions the ancient potions, Goldpetal is very interested, but as she describes destroying them all, his face grows stony. Telryn is practically weeping at the thought of the loss of all the potions.

Paks concludes her tale by saying, “So, I’d like to go through the thatched door, but want the rest of you to come before I do.”

Miriel shakes her head. “It’s not a good idea for us to go through the Slimy Doom room.”

“I’ll go,” Stone offers, setting down the sack full of treasure.

“Me too,” says Novalia, and Paks hands her the torch.

The three of them go back to the thatched door while the rest of the group waits and listens. Stone steps up to the door, and peeks through the thatch. It is entirely dark, but he can hear insects, as though it leads outside. 

They open the door, and find that it opens out onto the swamp, from the side of the hill. It looks like it was concealed on the outside. It’s on the east side of the hill, where the garbage dump is. The garbage smells so bad that Novalia almost passes out from the smell, and even Stone seems affected by it.

“Chuck!” Stone calls. “C’mere!”

Chuck rushes through the slimy doom room, and finds the group by the light of Novalia’s torch.

“Look for tracks,” Stone tells him. “I think the ratmen went after the slaves we let go.”

Chuck can’t stand the stench for long enough to do a thorough search, but after a brief moment, he shakes his head. “I don’t see any tracks at all,” he says. 

They close the door on the foul smell, and come back to rejoin the rest of the team.



We go down the long branching corridor, with Chuck in the lead. Stone and Drinks with Orcs follow him, with the rest of us out behind. 

The corridor is about eighty feet long. The room at the next end appears to be someone’s sleeping quarters, full of personal effects and equipment. A large sleeping area is in one corner, and there's a box against one wall. In a small hutch there are weapons and other effects. It's decorated with rugs and tapestries. The room is rectangular, with an exit at each of the four corners. There’s nobody in it.

“All clear,” Chuck calls quietly, and the rest of us come in. Stone and Drinks with Orcs watch two of the three exit corridors, and Goldpetal moves over to guard the far one, while the rest of us search the room.

Chuck looks around, but doesn’t see anything that interests him. Paks looks in the box and finds some parchments in it. She takes these. Miriel looks around for anything that might be magical, but nothing stands out. Telryn looks through the weapons cabinet, and takes a sturdy, sharp knife.

“Telryn,” Paks says softly, “Scrolls.” She hands them out to him.

Miriel examines the other items in the hutch carefully, but just sees random ratman effects, including a human skull ashtray. Chuck kicks the throw pillow, but there's just mud under it. He cuts the pillow open; it's filled with human hair. 

“Telryn,” Goldpetal asks, “Were there any arrows in the weapons?” Telryn is too preoccupied with the scrolls, and waves him away, so Goldpetal goes to check it out. There are some, which he takes. Paks searches the bedding to see if anything is under it. Chuck pulls the tapestries off the walls, but there's nothing there. Finally, Paks checks out the weapons rack, but none of the weapons look well made. 

“Nothing here,” she says, and everyone nods. 

Stone leads us down the first passageway to the left. Ten feet down, there's another huge room, about forty by twenty feet. There are two exits, one at the end and one to the right. There are a lot of sleeping mats on the floor, and four ratmen are digging through the stuff in the room.

Stone steps into the room, and when they still don’t notice him, he attacks one from behind. He makes two firm open-handed chops to the side of its head, and kills it before it knows what hit it. The sack of treasure hits the ground loudly, and the three ratmen whirl around. Novalia steps in with her bow, and shoots the ratman furthest away, across the room. Her arrow bites deeply, wounding it, and Telryn yells “Take one alive, so we can question him!” 

Drinks with Orcs charges to the right, smashing one of the ratmen with his club. It too, collapses, and Paks sees that the others have the situation fully in hand. She steps over to watch the two remaining corridors. 

The injured one turns to run, but Goldpetal is quicker, and he cuts it down from behind with his scimitar. It dies at the mouth of the corridor. Red Scale and Swims with Fishes watch the other two corridors, the second exit, and the corridor we entered through. 

Stone, Goldpetal, and Chuck surround the last ratman, and try to subdue it. Stone misses. Chuck tries to hit the ratman with the pommel of his sword, but he isn’t used to that blow, and strikes a glancing blow which causes him to drop the sword!

The ratman bolts for the door. Stone punches it in the head, knocking it out. 

“Here ya go,” he says to Telryn, as the young mage walks across to it.

Telryn says, “This might work, this might work.” He looks like he’s preparing a spell, but then he shakes his head. “Nope,” he says, and takes out his dagger and kills it. 

Stone looks disgusted. 

Stone and Goldpetal join the lizard men at the exit corridors, and look down towards them, while Paks searches the room and Chuck searches the bodies. Neither of them find anything.

Down his corridor, Stone sees another exit to a thatched door, about twenty feet down, while Goldpetal sees a smaller room about five feet down. It is a nice clean dry room, about fifteen by twenty feet, with wooden racks on every wall. They hold lots of crossbows, bolts, and scimitars. 

Stone steps to the thatched door, and peeks through. Like the first thatched door we found, this also leads outside. “Chuck,” he calls, and the tracker comes to look for tracks. 

Chuck steps through the door into a marshy area, with lots of ferns and broken reeds. He studies the ground, and says, “It looks like a lot of creatures might have gone through here in a hurry.”

“Where’d they go?” asks Stone.

“There’s no telling from here,” Chuck says, “They’d be real tough to track through the swamp at night. Let’s finish here, first.”

We go down the other corridor, through the armory room, and down the next corridor. Telryn and Stone take the opportunity to reload, grabbing a bunch of crossbow bolts.

The next room is about fifteen by fifteen, with an exit straight ahead, one heading back and to the right, and one heading off the right. This is another nest, abandoned, with lots of mats and rags. There are weapons lying around, as well as some knickknacks and trophies, ears and the like. Goldpetal discovers a necklace of elf finger bones and elf ears, and the thought causes him to vomit. Miriel compassionately offers him some water to rinse out his mouth.  

The group is steadily scattering further and further apart, but the warren seems to be almost deserted. Paks heads down the corridor that leads back on the right. She comes into a low-ceilinged room, full of reed baskets and wooden weapons; it looks like practice equipment. 

Stone goes up another corridor, about ten feet long, ending in a thatched door to the outside. He calls this info back to Chuck, who comes out and looks at the ground. “I see lots of ratman tracks,” he says, “Heading off in all directions, a few hours old. They appear to have deserted the sinking ship.” 

Paks continues down the exit from the practice weapons room into a large room, twenty by fifteen, that connects back to the nest room that the rest of us are in. There are two other exits to the right. It has lots of reed mats on the floor. There are nicks and gouges in the wall. “Training room,” she says.

Goldpetal follows Paks and looks down one of the exits to the right. He sees a corridor leading off into darkness. Miriel, Swims with Fishes, Red Scale, and Telryn follow them in. Telryn asks Swims with Fishes to check out the other exit. 

Swims with Fishes sees a curving corridor, which he says he can’t see down. Goldpetal lights a candle and explores down his corridor; it leads back to the room with the four brass bowls. 

We keep searching the warren, splitting up more and more to cover more ground. Everywhere is full of filth.

Goldpetal sees a few giant rats, which scatter when he shoots an arrow at them.

Novalia finds a larder filled with hams. When she examines them more closely, she realizes that the hams are made from humans. The gruesome sight makes her throw up. When the young woman has recovered, Paks helps her cut them down. They offer last rites, invoking both Tanil and Madriel. 



In one of the slave areas Chuck finds five listless slaves in manacles. “Miriel!” he calls, and Miriel and Stone come to see what he’s found.

Miriel checks them out, but they don’t pay any attention to her. “They’re not diseased,” she concludes, “But they’re unnaturally apathetic. I don’t know what’s wrong. Let’s try to break them free.”

Stone and Chuck try, but the manacles are very strong. They’re unable to get them open. Finally, they grab weapons and are able to break them. 

As they free the first slave, he suddenly becomes lively. “Thank Tanil!” he shouts. “How long have I been down here? Get me out of the swamp!”

Quickly, the two warriors break the rest free. Every time they break one free, the slave seems to wake up from a stupor and thanks us for saving them. 

“The manacles must be enchanted,” Stone concludes.

“I want to test them,” Chuck says.

Stone takes a broken pair and puts them on Chuck. Immediately, he becomes as moribund as the slaves had been before we found them. Even though they aren’t actually locked, he seems to have no interest in getting them back off.

When Stone takes them off of Chuck, the Vigilant breaks into a big grin, and exclaims, “Excellent!”

He takes four pairs, and gives the fifth pair to Telryn for further study.

It takes about two hours to search through the entire warren, but we find no more ratmen. When we have completely emptied the warren, we gather to leave, and escort the five slaves we’ve rescued to join the others. 

As we climb out of the warren, we see some large cloud banks to the southeast which are lit with beautiful pink and orange as the Madriel’s light shines upon them. It is the dawn breaking over the swamp with a majestic beauty.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Nifty. What was going through Paks' head when she broke all the potions though?


----------



## Fulcan

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Nifty. What was going through Paks' head when she broke all the potions though?




That's exactly what Telryn wants to know.  I think with the rest of the exploring, I forgot to ask.  There could have been so much magical goodness.


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## Elder-Basilisk

It appears that Pax's player is hesitating to answer. Perhaps a bump will elicit a response--or better, yet an update.


----------



## Dherys Thal

*Lurker emerging to spout praise*

Hey Amaroq - I enjoy your campaign and your PCs - please keep up the good work.  The Scarred Lands setting is a very interesting one - and you've done a fine job of developing and utilizing it.

As an aside - am I the only one (maybe I've read too many Vladewen books) who think that Pak's "gifts" from Madriel may possibly be something else?

The halfling rat had Belsameth written all over him.  On one hand, you may just be describing her emergent powers as surprising as they become apparent - and on the other hand - something else may be in play.  The whole episode is curious...but still, Paks is my favorite.


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## Elder-Basilisk

This has fallen way too far off the front-page.

Bump.

Amaroq, your readers want an update.


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## Graywolf-ELM

Still here in the wings waiting.


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## joshwitz

Man, I go away for 2 weeks, and come back to find our Storyhour on page 3!  Page 3!?

Amaroq, your fans miss you.  And I want to know how the party is going to herd all those slaves out of the deadly swamp.

(Ok, I actually know what happens, but I want to read about it...maybe this is all really just a reason to BUMP the story back to the first page.)


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## Elder-Basilisk

Who knows what the future may hold? But I at least hope it holds an update.


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## Graywolf-ELM

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Who knows what the future may hold? But I at least hope it holds an update.





Still holding out hope here.

GW


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## Virtue

*This Is Great*

I Want To Thank You For Writing This Story I Have Been Given Many Ideas For My Own Scarred Lands Campign


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## Fulcan

*Teaser to try and nudge Amaroq*

So, amazingly enough we managed to clear out this warren (well except for the many the escaped throught the bolt holes, can't get em all).  Have you ever tryied to march through the swamp with half-starved, weak slaves while it's pouring rain?  It's not pretty.

Heck, it's not even guaranteedthat we can make it out of there.  But, I have to say that the the march through the swamp leads to my favorite part of the adventure so far.

(nudge, nudge, nudge)

Fulcan
(Telryn's player)


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

How's your game going?  Everyone still alive and kicking?

GW


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## Elder-Basilisk

Since Fulcan bumped this thread back from the grave, here's my kick. How are things going now?



> But, I have to say that the the march through the swamp leads to my favorite part of the adventure so far.




Does this mean you no longer "hate the swamp."


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## Fulcan

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Does this mean you no longer "hate the swamp."




The game is still alive and kicking.  We even made it out of the swamp for a while.  But the swamp has come back, just to show us that it can kick even mid level characters in the can.  Our esteemed writer seems to have gotten distracted by other things.  He's getting married soon, so I doubt we'll see anything posted till after that, if I can get him to post at all.  I'll try wielding my new found powers as a best man to see if I can squeeze another update out of him.

And Telryn has found many new reasons to hate the swamp.


----------



## joshwitz

Hey all.  I was just checking this thread to see if Amaroq ever got around to continuing his dramatization of our adventures.  Looks like it's a pretty solid no.  

If you are interested in knowing how it all turns out, we do have a running description of our adventures on my website (http://www.ave6.net/dnd/logs/).  It's pretty rough, though.  One of the players takes notes and I post 'em up the website without doing any editing.

It's useful for us to keep track of everything, but is definitely not as fun as reading Amaroq's narrative.

And yes, the game is still going strong after 2.5 years of monthly sessions!


----------



## Amaroq

*All right, back in the saddle.*

Okay, its been a hectic several months. Seven months? Wow, I hadn't realized it had been THAT long! So much for a weekly format... 

I apologize to all of our loyal readers for letting it wait so very long - it had gotten to a point where posting for y'all didn't rate at the top of my priority list. 

BUT, the good news is - A number of things have been cleared off of my plate: My game has launched, I'm out of 'work hell', my wedding has happened, we're back from honeymoon.... and there is an episode ready to post.

So, without further ado...


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #15: Out of the Swamp - Episode 1 of 5*

1st of March, 2003​
*Issue #15*

*Out of the Swamp*​
_Over a week ago, a tribe of Disease ratmen attacked Kratys Freehold. We arrived at the Freehold just in time to assist the defenders and break the siege. We then set out in pursuit of the survivors. We killed many, and tracked them back through the swamp to their warren.

After twenty-four hours of hard underground fighting, we’ve cleared out the warren. With the help of our lizard-man allies, we defeated their leaders: a shaman, a priest, and a huge albino warrior. We explored the remainder of the warren, meeting only scattered resistance. Some of the ratmen have escaped into the surrounding swamp, but many are dead.

We’ve freed a number of slaves, and the lizard-man Red Scale led us to the hiding place the lizard men had arranged for them. Now the hapless refugees are huddled together, and we have to guide them back to the safety of dry land. There are twenty-one slaves - twenty humans, and one dwarf._


Dawn breaks over the Mourning Marshes. It is just after dawn on the first Hedraday of Madrer, the fourth day of the month, and we are deep in the swamp, hidden in a small dell. The slaves are huddled and afraid, though one or two still seem to have some spirit left. Red Scale goes out to scout around for signs of any further rat man resistance.

While he is out, Miriel checks over everyone, slaves and rescuers alike, examining injuries and checking for signs of disease. For the third time, Chuck has contracted Corpse Blisters from fighting the dead-eaters. Two of the lizard-men, Hands of Fire and Swims With Fishes, have caught Filth Fever, probably from walking around the refuse-filled ratman warren. Drinks With Orcs has contracted the Slimy Doom. All of the diseases are still in their early stages, and with Goldpetal, Paks, and Novalia assisting, Miriel cures them all, removing all of the diseases. This takes most of her power, and she treats everyone else’s wounds as well as she can, cleaning and bandaging the wounds. While the healers work, Chuck hands his rations out to all of the slaves, who eat hungrily. 

Telryn is completely exhausted, more than the rest of us are. Miriel is very concerned, but Telryn tell her, “Don’t worry. It’s a side-effect of all the arcane spell-casting. Some of those scrolls contained spells beyond my power. I’ll be okay.” 

Miriel tells him, “You should rest as much as possible,” a suggestion his heavy eyelids indicate he is likely to follow.

By the time she finishes, the sun has risen well into the sky, and Red Scale has returned. He confers briefly with Hands of Fire, the lizard-man warrior, who translates for us. “No rats, gone. They left.” It is the middle of the morning, and with the way clear, our thoughts turn to departure. 

Paks asks Hands of Fire, “Will you help us escort these,” gesturing to the former slaves, “to the edge of the swamp?”

The seven-foot tall lizard man nods, with a steely eye. “Not leave them,” he says. 

Goldpetal asks, “How far is it to the edge of the swamp?”

The lizard man says, “Two days, maybe three.”

Miriel says, “We should rest midday.”

“We should make a forced march,” Chuck disagrees, with a commanding tone. “There will be time enough for resting when we’re free of the swamp.”

Hands of Fire nods. “Storm coming,” he says ominously. 

While Goldpetal and Miriel rouse the sleeping slaves, and Stone and Novalia break camp, Paks and Chuck discuss their choice of weapons. They had swapped weapons in the warren. “What did you think?” asks Paks.

Chuck shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m used to the heft of my own weapon. This…” He jiggles her long sword in his hand. “…is a fine weapon, very well made, but I like my own.”

“Same here,” Paks says. “I’m more comfortable with a shield and that sword. I forget to block with this magical ring. How am I supposed to block if I can’t see my shield?” 

Chuck nods sympathetically. “Shall we switch back?” she asks him. 

He agrees, and begins unbuckling the scabbard from his belt. Paks takes her masterwork longsword back from Chuck. He takes his, and Paks returns the Shield ring back to Miriel.

The dwarf comes over to Paks and introduces himself. “I am Dorin, of the Silvershield clan. I owe you thanks for the rescue. From your speech, I gather we expect some danger yet. May I ask for a weapon? I will repay the loan in the blood of our enemies, if given the chance.”

Paks sizes him up, and says, “We have no armor for you, but... would this do?” She hands over the masterwork bastard sword which she had been using underground. 

He chuckles gleefully. “This'll split some rat man skulls!" he chortles. It is nearly too large for him, but he can wield it as a human would a two-handed great sword, and as he takes some practice swings, Paks can tell that he is no stranger to a weapon. 

After testing its heft, he examines the workmanship. “I might prefer an axe,” Dorin says, “But the smiths of Mithril have great skill. ’Tis a fine weapon, indeed!”

“Don’t grow too fond of it,” she says. “I’ll want it back, when we’re safe!”

We form up, with the lizard-men in the lead, and the adventurers interspersed with the slaves to protect them, and begin the treacherous journey back to dry ground.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #15: Out of the Swamp - Episode 2 of 5*

We travel for about two hours. It is hard work and slow going, slogging through the swamp, even with the lizard-men to guide us through the easiest parts. At least this day is cooler, although it remains very humid. As we travel, Chuck and Goldpetal keep an eye out for healing herbs or useful food. By the end of the two hours, the slaves are straggling and spread out, despite our best efforts to keep them together.

Hands of Fire calls a halt at a clearing. “Dry land,” he says. “Rest here?”

Chuck says, “We should push on.” 

“I agree,” Paks concurs. We gather the last of the slaves, reforming our line. Miriel checks them over, and says, “I think they can push on.” We are agreed.

Before we resume, Goldpetal says, “I found some ninequine.” He passes leaves of the herb out to everyone. “This will help prevent Swamp Fever,” he says.  

We push onward for another twenty minutes or so. It’s started to drizzle, and the sun is completely obscured now. We aren’t getting soaked, but everyone’s outer garments are wet. 

Telryn mutters, “Gods, I hate this swamp.”

“At least the ground is drier,” Paks points out. We’re moving through a wooded section of the swamp, so the ground is firm, unlike the deep mire we’ve waded through on previous days.

From the east, four wolf-rats, giant rats fully the size of wolves burst from the trees. We’ve fought their ilk before, but they are a vicious lot.

The wolf rats rush forward and attack. One bites at Fists of Fury, but misses. The other three attack slaves. One slave ducks, and the wolf-rat lands awkwardly, falling on its side. The second one misses, but the third hits, bearing a hapless slave to the ground beneath it. The other slaves begin to scream in panic and terror.

Goldpetal and Chuck step out of the column and fire at the wolf rat which stumbled. Each hit it once as it climbs back to its feet. Chuck’s second shot goes high, into the trees.

Paks, who had been walking in the middle, with the slaves, runs forward to attack the one towards the front of the column, the one pinning a slave down. She wounds it with her longsword, driving it off of its victim. Stone drops his bag, and from the front of the column, charges towards the wolf-rats. He leaps over the first one, which gets a good bite on him as he flies over its head. The half-orc lands beside the second one, bringing both his fists, clasped together, down in an overhand blow. We can hear the crunch of ribs breaking beneath his blow, and the monk is surprised to find the wolf-rat still on its feet and snarling at them.

The screaming slaves flee in the opposite direction. Telryn tries to halt them, but they are panicked, and ignore the teenage wizard. Before they can get far, however, the leaders get caught up in several giant spider-webs which are strung between the trees. 

The rest of us are too busy fighting the danger we can see to help them. Drinks with Orcs and Hands of Fire join Paks, attacking the wolf-rat at the front. Drinks misses, but Hands of Fire connects his club with its skull, and smashes the wolf-rat flat, dead.

The wolf-rat which Goldpetal and Chuck had shot scrambles to its feet. It prepares to leap at Miriel, but before it can, Fists of Fury delivers a crushing club to its head, and it too is killed. Red Scale charges the one in back and hits it. Novalia shoots twice at the two remaining wolves, hitting each but not killing either. 

Miriel takes a few steps towards the slaves, and shouts to them, “Pull the stuck ones loose!” Some of them are still free, and they begin trying to help extricate their compatriots. 

Swims With Fishes attacks the wolf-rat near the back of the column, and with a single blow he kills it.  Dorin Silvershield runs up to the last one, swinging the bastard sword in front of him, but it dodges his blow, then darts in to bite him. The dwarf expertly uses the sword to keep it at bay.

Miriel runs around the combatants to reach the fallen slave. He’s bleeding, but alive, and she expertly bandages his wounds.  

Behind us, the slaves start shouting, “Spiders!” Even more ominous, we can hear fear in Telryn’s voice as he says, “Uh, guys…”

Goldpetal turns, and sees five giant spiders, easily large enough to make a meal of the slaves, crawling down out of the trees and along the ground towards the slaves trapped in their web. He tries to shoot one, but his arrow glances off of its thick carapace. “Come back where we can protect you!” Paks yells. Chuck also turns. He takes two quick shots, at two different arachnids, and hits both times. Paks charges the spider closest to the slaves, the right-most one. It is up in the tree, and she misses, but she does position herself between it and its victim.

Stone steps around the wolf and tries to land his trademark flurry of blows. He and Dorin don’t have the practice of weeks of fighting together, however, and the half-orc gets elbowed in the head by the dwarf. The wolf-rat is about to leap on him when Drinks with Orcs distracts it with a sharp rap of the club, which must be incredibly painful against its broken ribs. 

The slaves who are not in the web start running back towards the rest of the group, whether because they’ve listened to Paks or whether in terror of the spiders, we’re not sure. The eight slaves in the web try to break free, but after their lengthy captivity, they are too weak to manage it. 

Hands of Fire charges up behind Paks and attacks the same spider, but his momentum carries him into the web, and he is quickly trapped. The spider shoots a web at Paks, and entangles her as well! Two more of the spiders attack the trapped slaves, biting them. The slaves so bitten fall unconscious, either from the pain or from poison. The two wounded spiders scuttle off into the woods to escape Chuck’s accurate arrows. 

Meanwhile, Fists of Fury bashes the nearly forgotten wolf-rat with his great club, killing it. Drinks with Orcs tries to help Stone to his feet, but the half-orc looks quite woozy from the blow. He is unable to get all the way to his feet, and stops, kneeling on one knee with his head down.

Red Scale and Swims With Fishes rush over to the entangled slaves at the far left of the webs, and start trying to pull them free. Novalia covers them with bowshot, which is unable to injure the spiders, but keeps them away from the two lizard-men.  

Dorin charges straight into the center web, slicing through it, and attacks a surprised spider. The well-forged weapon bites deep, and a black ichor begins oozing from the belly of the spider. It steps back from its victim, and Miriel hurries to heal the unconscious slave it has just left. 

Goldpetal shoots at the spider still in the tree, the one above Paks, and hits it, right through one of its many eyes, and it begins to back away from Paks. She is too entangled to reach it with her sword, but she manages to draw her bow. Her shot is weak, and just grazes it. 

As the fleeing slaves reach the path, Telryn and Novalia rein them in, helping to prevent further panic, and gathering them together in one space. 

Chuck moves around to the other side and shoots at the uninjured spider. He puts an arrow through a multifaceted eye as well, and it tries to drag its victim back into the forest with it. Drinks With Orcs steps up and throws a javelin at it, while Hands of Fire breaks free of the web by laying about with his great club. As he steps towards it, the spider drops its victim, and all three spiders run away, either along the ground or through the trees. Chuck and Goldpetal loose a few more arrows after the arachnids, to encourage them to continue fleeing, but neither hit.

With the help of the strong lizard men, we break the slaves free. Miriel stabilizes the two wounded ones, but turns to Novalia. “I’m exhausted,” she says, “And I cannot heal them. Can you give them just enough healing to wake them up?”

“Yes,” the archer replies.

“Just get them in shape to keep walking,” Chuck tells her.

As Novalia works, Paks explains to the slaves, “You need to stick with us. The swamp itself is more dangerous than anything which may attack us. If we’re attacked, step back, let us do the fighting, but don’t run – quicksand, alligators, and spiders are not the worst dangers you might run into.”

We start traveling again. Around noon, some of the slaves start asking for a break. Hands of Fire finds a clearing in the wooded area. Never before has a muddy area of small, stunted trees looked so inviting. 

“Let’s rest for an hour,” Miriel recommends.

Stone drops his bag, puts his head on it, and promptly falls asleep. Telryn follows suit. It’s still drizzling. Goldpetal sets out a bowl to collect rainwater for us to drink. Copying him, Paks puts out her helmet, and one of the lizard-men places out a gourd of some sort. Chuck, Dorin, and the four lizard men stand watch while the remainder of us rest.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #15: Out of the Swamp - Episode 3 of 5*

After an hour’s respite, Goldpetal, Chuck, and Novalia go searching for food. Miriel checks everyone else over for injuries. The three wounded slaves look like they are in need of a week of bed rest, but there’s little she can do for them. Stone and Hands of Fire are carrying injuries, Stone’s fresh from the wolf-rats, while Hands of Fire is still not fully healed from the excursion in the warren. Miriel heals Hands of Fire, while Paks heals Stone.

Chuck helps the search party find some ducks, which they shoot and bring back. Miriel cooks the ducks into a very tasty stew. Chuck takes some duck feathers.  While the ducks are cooking, Chuck looks for ninequine, but doesn't find any. When the stew is ready, Miriel passes out bowls. We don’t have enough bowls, so she offers food to the slaves first.

Just as they’re starting to eat, three black and white monkey-like creatures with beaver tails leap down from the trees overhead. One leaps towards Miriel and the pot of stew, but it clips the edge of the pot, and falls on its head, stunned at her feet. The other two attack slaves. Whipping their beaver tails like clubs, they kill the two slaves, grab their food, and start eating it, hissing at the rest of us in a clear signal to back off.

“Swamp-gobblers!” Miriel yells.

Novalia takes a hurried shot at the stunned one, but her shot misses, high, and hits a slave, injuring her badly.

Goldpetal steps lithely through the panicking slaves, and with a sharp blow cuts one of the eating creatures badly.  Stone grabs the other one in a great bear hug, pinning it in his arms. Miriel picks up the dagger she was cooking with and stabs at the one that attacked her, but it knocks the blade out of her hand. Chuck steps over a slave and shoots at the same one, hitting it. It hardly seems to notice the arrow sticking from its fur.

Four of the lizard men all leap to Goldpetal’s aid. Swims With Fishes, Fists of Fury, and Hands of Fire all hit it, but amazingly the thing is still on its feet. “They’re tough,” Goldpetal calls to the rest of us.

Paks calls out to the slaves, “Move back! But don’t run.” She steps into the melee, attacking the one battling Miriel, but misses. Novalia shoots it, wounding it, and Chuck’s second arrow hits it as well. Drinks With Orcs runs up and pulls one of the injured slaves out of the way. 

The gobbler surrounded by lizard men grabs a drumstick, leaps over Goldpetal, and begins running away. The slaves drop everything and scatter in all directions. Dorin hangs back nervously, neither fleeing with the others nor coming to our aid.

The one Stone is holding struggles, trying to escape, but it can’t escape the half-orc’s iron grip. He head-butts it twice. The first fails, but the second makes a resounding crack, and opens a cut over the swamp gobbler’s eye.

Novalia shoots the gobbler at the stew pot again. Four arrows are bristling from its chest, but it still struggles mightily. Chuck draws both his swords, longsword and shortsword, and attacks. He cuts it deeply with the longsword. Most of the lizard men come over to help, but Swims with Fishes and Red Scale miss it. Swims With Fishes’ wild blow knocks Paks sword out of her hand, and she steps back out of the fray. Fists of Fury clubs it over the back, but somehow it is still on its feet.

“Dorin!” calls Telryn. “Help me calm these people down!” The dwarf turns and helps the young mage as he tries to calm the fleeing slaves.  

Goldpetal, Hands of Fire, and Drinks with Orcs run down the fleeing swamp gobbler. The short elf misses it, but the two lizard men run it down. Hands of Fire smashes it with his club, while Drinks With Orcs misses it. It doubles back to flee the other direction, and runs right into Goldpetal’s scimitar, which lops off its head with a scything blow.

The gobbler near the stew pot is surrounded by enemies. It leaps desperately toward Miriel. Her dagger is pitiful defense, and turns aside on its thick skin. It bites her, ripping flesh from her left shoulder. Novalia has to pick her way around the camp to find a shot through all the lizard-men, but she shoots it again. This arrow misses, ricocheting off the stew pot with a loud ringing noise.  

The slaves begin to calm down. Telryn and Dorin are doing a fine job, and Paks, disarmed, steps back to help them. Goldpetal moves over to look at the injured slave, and finds that she isn’t bleeding much. It looks like she will be fine.

Stone’s swamp gobbler continues to struggle in his grasp, but now he has his left arm firmly wrapped around it, and both of its arms pinioned. He punches it twice with his right hand, solid blows to the head which leave it dazed and barely holding on to consciousness.

The gobbler attacking Miriel has lost track of Chuck, and he attacks it from behind, bringing both swords together in a chopping motion. The twin swords bite deep into its ribs, and it pitches forward, dead.

“Thanks,” she says. The other lizard men mill around a bit. Red Scale goes to help Telryn round up the slaves, while Fists of Fury picks up a bowl of stew and resumes eating. Swims With Fishes and Drinks With Orcs alertly patrol the perimeter of the camp, to see if anything worse has been attracted to the noise of the fight.

Hands of Fire circles around to where Stone is still grappling with the last gobbler. He doesn’t want to chance clubbing the half-orc, so he wades in with his claws, and rips out the gobbler’s throat.

As it goes limp in Stone’s arm, he looks at the lizard man angrily. “I had him!” the half-orc says, sharply.

Miriel turns to the former slaves. “Its safe, now! Come back and get your food,” she calls. A light rain continues to fall on us.

Novalia examines the unconscious slave, which she heals back to readiness. 

Paks steps over to Miriel’s side. “Let me look at that,” she says. With her help, Miriel pulls the mangled cloak away from it. “It looks like a vicious wound,” she says.

“I’ll take care of it,” Miriel says grimly. She lays a hand on it, and invokes Madriel, and the worst of the wound closes, although the injury is still troubling her.

Stone sets about skinning and cleaning the dead gobblers. Chuck says “They taste like chicken,” and sets to helping him.

We don’t have time to bury the dead slaves, so we cover them with leaves and branches, eat quickly, and set out again. 



We march throughout the afternoon. At first, the slaves are feeling much better for the food and rest, but the longer we walk, the darker it gets, and the harder it starts to rain. By mid-afternoon, it feels like twilight, and what earth there is has become a muddy quagmire, further slowing our progress. By late afternoon, it is almost as dark as night, and the rain is hard and cold. Everyone is soaked through, and miserable. Nobody has spoken a word in over an hour, concentrating what willpower they have remaining on the monotony of trudging one foot after the other.

Finally, Miriel has had enough. “Its getting too dark to be safe. We should stop and rest.”

This is met with silent, weary nods. 

“Hands of Fire,” she asks, “Is there any shelter nearby?”

The lizard-man points ahead and says, “Trees.”

A few minutes later, we come to a slight rise, with some small trees overhanging the crest of the little hill. At the top is a small ruin, mostly a foundation, with some crumbling remnant of what once might have been a wall and a fireplace. The ground here is merely muddy, not underwater, and the small trees overhang the ruin, reducing the rain from a hard steady rain to an irregular drip of large droplets.

Stone dumps the treasure out of his tarp, which he and Chuck use to make a small canopy. The shelter provided isn’t large enough for everyone to sleep under, but some of us will stay dry and it makes a covered area to cook in.

Miriel looks at her shoulder again, and calls Madriel for more healing. The goddess hears her priestess, and the wound is reduced to a pink area of new skin.

It takes a long time to light a fire. The wood we can find is damp, and away from the hill everything is covered in water. When Chuck and Goldpetal finally do get a fire going, it is weak and smoky. Miriel cooks the swamp gobblers, which is fairly difficult over the weak flame. However, they turn out quite tasty. 

This time we eat without interruption.

After we finish cooking, we lay out to go to sleep. Stone has a winter blanket, which he loans to some of the slaves, and Paks offers one her bedroll. We set watches of three people each, and curl up for what promises to be a cold, wet night.



The wind begins to pick up. The rain comes down harder. Nonetheless, most of the party is asleep, a couple hours before midnight. Chuck is standing watch with two of the lizard-men, Swims With Fishes and Fists of Fury. 

One of the slaves sits up. He looks around him, with somewhat wild eyes. He gets up and comes over to Chuck. “Do you hear that noise?” he asks.

Chuck looks around, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. “I don’t hear anything,” he says.

“It’s a kind of tapping noise,” the slave says.

Chuck looks at the two lizard men, and puts his hand to his ear, as though listening, and gives them a questioning look. They both shrug and shake their heads. Apparently neither can hear it either.

Chuck pulls out his glowing dagger, which provides a better light than the low burning campfire. He points at Fists of Fury, and makes a stern look with his arms crossed, then draws a circle in the air. Then he points at Swims With Fishes, and crooks his finger in a “come here” gesture. Fists of Fury stands guard, as Chuck and Swims With Fishes go to investigate.

As they approach the trees, Chuck can hear a tapping noise, as though there were someone knocking on one of the trees. The noise is intermittent, and he can’t tell which tree it is. He looks up at the treetops, but can’t see anything, and neither can Swims With Fishes. 

Without warning, a great dark shape falls from the tree, towards Chuck. It is a large, leathery black triangle, with tentacles, and it lands on Chuck’s head. One of the tentacles stings him, as though it has poison or sharp edges.

Fists of Fury shouts an alarm, trying to wake the rest of us, while Swims With Fishes attacks the creature with claws and teeth. He can’t put his full force into it for fear of injuring Chuck, beneath the thing, and he pulls his blow, which is too weak to penetrate the thick leathery skin. 

It is trying to suffocate Chuck, but he brings up the glowing dagger into its softer, grey underbelly. The magical blade cuts deeply into it, and seems to have cut a muscle – the thing can’t grip with as much strength, and Chuck manages to struggle and draw a breath of air.

Swims With Fishes claws at it again, and this time he rips a great chunk out of it with one claw. The monster goes limp, and the lizard man peels it off of Chuck.

The rest of us are just getting to our feet, and Chuck tells them, “Its okay, go back to sleep.” Most of us are happy to comply, curling back up in whatever dry spot we’ve managed to find.

Goldpetal comes over to examine it. Chuck says, “I think it’s a darkmantle. I’ve heard of them.”

“Yes,” Goldpetal says. “They lurk in the trees and wait for the unwary.” He glances at the Vigilant with an unreadable expression on his face, which Chuck completely misses.

“The tough leather might make good armor,” Chuck says, picking up the corpse.

“I should stand watch with you,” Goldpetal says, and Swims With Fishes, who was wounded in an earlier battle, goes to rest.

Chuck searches around a little bit, and finds a skeleton under the darkmantle’s tree. He pokes at it with his long sword, but the skeleton is inanimate, clearly a previous victim. He searches it, but the hapless human had only a good quality mace, and some rotting leather armor. Chuck takes the mace.

As we sleep, Goldpetal searches for more ninequine, which he is able to find.

When Miriel and Paks wake up for their watch, in the middle of the night, Miriel takes a look at the angry wound Chuck has from the Darkmantle. “Why didn’t you say something?” she chides him, and works Madriel’s healing. The wound responds well, and Chuck is returned to health. She also heals Swims With Fishes. Finally, most of the group is healthy after our many fights.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #15: Out of the Swamp - Episode 4 of 5*

The rain continues to fall harder and harder, and the wind is blowing heavily. A few hours before dawn, perhaps the darkest part of the night, Novalia, Stone, and Drinks With Orcs are standing the last watch.

Two arrows come shooting out of the dark. The first one hits Novalia, cutting deep into her right shoulder, but the second flies wildly overhead. She’s badly hurt, and lets out a cry of pain. Looking back in the direction that they came from, she sees a ratman fall from a tree, and points with her uninjured left arm.

Stone screams and charges the rat man that fell from the tree. He gets there just as it reaches its feet and Stone slams his elbow into its face, rocking it backwards. The rat man draws a scimitar and a short sword, and he and Stone face off. “Foolish one,” it hisses at Stone.

Novalia looks for another rat man in the tree, but can’t see anything. Drinks With Orcs circles through the rest of the group, waking anybody who hadn’t leapt to their feet at Stone’s yell. 

The rat man attacks Stone with the scimitar, hitting him. Stone punches at it with a flurry of blows, but the ratman is nimble and quick, and dodges each of his punches. 

As they fight, Fists of Fury and Swims With Fishes circle around, cutting off any retreat for the ratman. Paks, unarmored, nonetheless grabs her sword and shield, and helps them cut off the retreat. Red Scale charges directly at it, but his club misses.

“There may be others,” Novalia warns, “Archers.” Dorin and Telryn circle around to guard the backside of the camp, while Hands of Fire and Novalia peer through the darkness into the trees to see if they can spot any other archers. None of them see anything.

Goldpetal moves to the center of the camp, yells at the slaves, “Stay still!” and casts _obscuring mist_. A great fog begins to billow around him, quickly hiding the entire campsite from any of the other archers. Miriel steps in amidst the slaves and quietly reassures them. “Keep together, and keep calm.”

Novalia pulls out an arrow, and tries to draw her bow, but gasps in pain. The wound to her shoulder is too much, and she can’t draw. Chuck steps over beside her with his bow, and shoots at the rat man. His arrow just grazes it.

Drinks With Orcs advances and clubs the rat man, hitting it hard. 

The rat man gestures with his hands, and vanishes. Stone punches the spot where the rat man was, but there is nothing there. Hands of Fire leaps where he last saw the ratman and tries to grapple it, but he lands, flustered, in the mud.

The others all peer around for it. Dorin, Telryn, and Novalia move to the edge of the mist, where they can see outward, but they see nothing. Red Scale and Fists of Fury listen for the noise of a running ratman, but they hear nothing.

Paks stands still, trying to sense evil around herself, the way she has before. When she doesn't sense anything, she says, “They’re gone.”

Chuck tries to see if the rat man left tracks, but we were all milling about there, and Hands of Fire fell to the ground. Chuck can’t find anything there, and when he steps outside of the muddled tracks, the ground seems undisturbed, as though the ratman left no tracks.

“This is strange,” he says. “He left no tracks.”

“Illusion?” asks Telryn.

“No, the wounds were real enough,” Chuck opines, nodding towards Novalia, who is sitting on the ground as Miriel heals her.

“Teleportation,” Goldpetal says, in a voice half statement and half wondering question.

After five minutes, the mist dissipates. Most of us are returning to our bed rolls and trying to catch a last hour of sleep before dawn.

Goldpetal says, “Chuck, lets forage for breakfast, while the rest of them sleep.” 

Beneath our feet, the grass and vines come to life, growing with incredible speed. They start grabbing at us and entangling us. “Its an _entangle_,” shouts Goldpetal, recognizing his favorite spell used against us. For some reason, the vines do not touch Goldpetal, as though they recognize his power.

The vines quickly entangle most of the slaves. Chuck, Telryn, and Swims With Fishes are completely entangled as well. Paks stands still, and tries to detect evil. Though she does not sense evil, the vines also leave her alone. Red Scale has been entangled, but with a titanic effort, he breaks the largest vine entangling him, and frees himself.

Stone rolls alertly out of the entangling grasses. As he comes to his feet, two arrows fly out of the darkness. The first hits him, and he yells, “He’s over here! Ouch!” That last as the second arrow also hits him. Both arrows are in his chest, and though neither have hit a vital organ, he is hurting.

Goldpetal casts the _obscuring mist_ again, over the camp, and quickly those who are entangled are obscured from the view of the sniper. 

Dorin cuts his way free of the entangled area. Its pitch black, and raining, and even with his dwarven vision, he can’t see the archer. Hands of Fire works his way through the vines. Miriel is deep in the entangled area, but the vines don’t have her. She can’t see the ratman, either. She casts _detect magic_, but the brilliant flare of the enchanted vines prevents her from detecting anything else. She continues to concentrate. 

Fists of Fury and Novalia are entangled, right next to each other. By each helping the other, they both break free. Drinks With Orcs has luckily avoided the grasses, and runs over next to Stone. Paks steps carefully out of the vines and begins circling around the entangle field to join the half-orc. 

Goldpetal starts to move towards the edge of the mist, and the vines part out of his way. Red Scale follows him, taking advantage of the respite. Chuck and Swims With Fishes continue to struggle, but they are securely bound and fail to break free. 

Stone starts running towards the source of the shots, but he still can't see anything. Suddenly, the rat man, the same one we’ve seen before, drops out of a tree about sixty feet in front of Stone. His bow is out, and as Stone tries to close the gap, the ratman shoots him twice. Stone shouts out, but when the second one hits, he pitches face-down in the mud, unconscious. 

Dorin runs away from the ratman, as fast as his short dwarven legs will take him. Hands of Fire and Drinks With Orcs escape the entangled area and begin charging towards the ratman. Drinks With Orcs throws a javelin at the rat man, but misses. Seeing the two lizard men coming, the rat man dashes off into the woods. Hands of Fire and Drinks With Orcs chase after it. 

Miriel starts working her way towards the edge of the entangled area. Fists of Fury and Novalia become entangled again, but Chuck breaks free. As Goldpetal steps through the entanglement, the vines part like a sea before him. The entangling grasses firmly grab Red Scale, who was following him, although Goldpetal remains untouched.

Dorin Silvershield stops fleeing. He begins watching alertly into the woods, retreating slowly back towards the camp and the obscuring mist. 

Paks reaches Stone. Quickly, almost perfunctorily, she brings Madriel’s healing upon him, healing the worst of his injuries, but as soon as she sees that he is out of danger, she stops, rises, and continues to run after the rat man. Miriel escapes the entangled area, and starts heading for Stone. Stone is awake, but as he sits up it is clear that he is still very weak. 

Chuck leaps for the edge of the entangle field, but a vine wraps around his leg, and he falls heavily. He is quickly entangled again, this time so thoroughly that he has no hope of freeing himself before the spell expires. Swims With Fishes and Red Scale can’t break free, either. Dorin moves around the circle to help Red Scale.

Goldpetal steps out of the entangled area, and begins circling the perimeter, looking for trouble. He has a grim look on his face, which frightens even the trapped slaves.

The rat man keeps running, but the two lizard men behind it fall into quicksand, although they were trying to follow his footsteps. Hands of Fire sinks deeply into the quicksand, while Drinks With Orcs is luckier, and is able to swim to the edge of the quicksand, although he can’t pull himself free.

Novalia breaks free of the vines, and begins picking her way out of the entangled area. Telryn, Chuck, Swims With Fishes, and Fists of Fury are all completely entangled. Dorin is trying to help Red Scale get free, but the lizard man is firmly stuck, and as quickly as Dorin can cut one vine, another grabs Red Scale.

Paks stops at the edge of the quicksand and yells, “Help! Help!” She tries to pull Drinks With Orcs out, but the seven-foot lizard man weighs over a hundred pounds more than she does, and she can’t pull him out by herself. Finally, though, with her help he manages to get one leg up on solid ground, and is able to pull himself out.

Miriel runs over to Stone, just as the half-orc climbs shakily to his feet. Miriel heals Stone, while Paks throws a rope to Hands of Fire. “Thanks, Miriel,” Stone says, and runs to help Paks. With his strength and hers combined, they are able to pull Hands of Fire out of the quicksand, but the ratman has disappeared again.

Telryn’s owl comes back and lands on his outstretched hand. “Chester says he lost him. Whatever he is, he disappeared under the cover of the trees.”

We wait warily lest our tormentor reappear, and within a few minutes, the entanglement has subsided and the mist has disappeared. 

“He must be a Twilight Warden,” Chuck says, when he is free of the entanglement. He looks grim and determined.

“I think so,” Miriel agrees.  

“Time to head out,” Stone says, taking down the tarp and starting to wrap his treasures in it again.

“We need to look for food, and more ninequine,” Goldpetal objects.

“I’ll help you,” Chuck says. “The rest of you pack.”  They search in the immediate vicinity, with bows out, keeping a wary eye out for the ratman. The rest of us pick up our bed rolls and Miriel’s cooking gear.

We start to move out, into the teeth of the gale.



We walk for about two hours, into ever-increasing wind and rain. It never does get light, it just lifts from dark to a dark grey. Towering storm clouds reveal the majesty of the storm which is headed our way, and despair seeps through all but the stoutest hearts. Our steps are weary, and our nerves are on edge from constant vigilance for the return of the Twilight Warden.

Hands of Fire halts abruptly, and holds up one hand, trying to stop us all. Stone sees it, too, and stops, but Drinks With Orcs isn’t quick enough, and stumbles over a tripwire. It looses a branch which was held by the wire, and the trap whips out and strikes him in the head. He collapses, as though pole-axed. 

Stone picks him up, but the lizard-man is unconscious and bleeding from the head. Paks bandages him, and Miriel heals him until Madriel has brought him back to consciousness. Goldpetal and Novalia look around for ambushers.

The other lizard men look for more traps. Hands of Fire notices another trap that didn't go off, a similar construction on the opposite side of our route. Chuck begins to move up to the front, but Paks stops him. Hands of Fire takes a twig and fires off the other trap.

Chuck studies the ground, trying to track the trapper, but he can’t see any tracks, between the dim light and the heavy groundwater. 

We move on. After another half an hour we reach a wooded area. The trees are dripping with hanging vines. They are green and luscious, more beautiful than anything we’ve seen in the swamp thus far, but Hands of Fire brings us to a halt. “These razor vines,” he explains. “Not touch.” He confers with Telryn in Draconic.

Telryn says, “He tells me it will take an hour to make our way around them, or we can just plow through. From his description of the razor vines, I don’t think the slaves would make it through them - I’ve said we’d rather go around.” Miriel and Paks nod agreement, and we skirt around to the left side, around the edge of the vines.

There’s a small path close to the vines, where the ground is mud rather than water, and Hands of Fire keeps us along that path, walking side by side with Drinks With Orcs. The two leaders trigger another branch tripwire, and branches swing out and hit them, wounding both. Drinks is knocked into the razor vines. At the same moment, a large snake falls from a tree hanging out over the path. It drops on Chuck, biting him, and it begins to coil around his neck!

Chuck struggles against the snake, but he can’t break free. “Boa… constrictor…” he chokes out. Paks is the quickest to react, and she draws her long sword and charges towards Chuck. She takes a hard swing at the constrictor, coming dangerously close to Chuck’s face, but with her expert sword work she catches the snake solidly, cutting a deep gash in its thick mid-part.

Telryn and Dorin concentrate on keeping the slaves from panicking, while Red Scale helps Drinks With Orcs crawl his way out of the razor vines. The lizard man emerges bleeding from numerous slashes, but he grimly draws his javelin and looks around for a target.

Stone drops his sack and draws his crossbow. As he loads it, he peers through the driving rain. He sees the ratman in a tree, just on the edge of his visibility. “There it is,” he calls, and shoots at it. His bolt is blown wildly off by the wind, but does serve to point out the ratman to the rest of us. Hands of Fire and Drinks With Orcs both have javelins at the ready, which they launch at it. Both throws fall short.

In the center of the group, Chuck continues to struggle with the boa constrictor. It works its way ever tighter. Chuck manages to stab it with his dagger. His viper bites at it, but misses. Novalia shoots an arrow towards them, but she misses and the arrow goes off into the razor vines. Goldpetal draws his dagger and cuts at the constrictor, but he also misses it. 

Miriel casts a spell towards the ratman, and even at this long range, her spell works. He freezes motionless, unable to move. Stone and Dorin begin running towards the tree.

Goldpetal’s hawk claws at the constrictor, buffeting Chuck’s face with its wings. Fists of Fury runs over and tries to bite the snake, his fangs coming perilously close to Chuck, but he misses the constrictor. Red Scale grabs it with one big paw, and rips open its belly with the claws of his other hand. It’s dead. Chuck and the two lizard men pry the motionless serpent off of his neck, and he takes a deep gasping breath.

Paks, Swims With Fishes, Drinks With Orcs, and Hands of Fire run towards the frozen ratman, which Stone has already reached. The half-orc begins to climb up it, towards the helpless Twilight Warden.

“Wow, what was that spell?” asks Telryn.

“_Hold person_,” the priestess says with a smile as she starts walking towards the tree.

Novalia fires her bow at the Twilight Warden, but she misses in the high wind. Chuck draws his bow and joins her, but he also misses. Goldpetal motions for the slaves to gather around him, while Telryn and Red Scale keep watch behind us.

Dorin grabs the trunk of the tree and shakes it, but all he does is dislodge Stone, who falls to the ground. Drinks With Orcs helps him up. Swims With Fishes throws a javelin up into the tree, but it hits a branch, and falls back to earth. Paks sheathes her sword and draws a bow, but her first shot gets blown wild by the wind.

The ratman remains motionless, held in place by Miriel’s spell, but an amused contempt is visible in its eyes. Hands of Fire and Fists of Fury try to climb up towards it, but Fists of Fury slips back down on the slippery bark. Dorin yells, “Get that ratman out of the tree, where I can kill him!”

Paks shoots again, this time sticking her arrow into one of the branches. Drinks With Orcs and Stone try to climb the tree, but they are getting in each other’s way and make little progress. Hands of Fire almost reaches the ratman, who is far out on one of the limbs, but had a secure platform to shoot from, and has a rat-like tail wrapped around a nearby branch for balance. Just as he gets close, however, Hands of Fire falls, landing heavily on the ground at our feet.

Back at the refugees, Goldpetal casts another _obscuring mist_. Telryn shakes his head. “I think he’s alone,” he tells the elf.

“I can’t take that chance,” Goldpetal tells him, drawing his bow.

At the tree, Paks says, “Everyone stand back. Let Stone climb.” Stone climbs the tree. Everyone waits for Stone, except Chuck, who also tries to climb up. He fails, but his viper climbs the tree easily, slithering past Stone and biting the ratman in the head. 

Goldpetal steps to the edge of the mist and shoots at the ratman. His arrow, like so many others, is blown awry. Fists of Fury throws a javelin up at the ratman, but he, too, misses.

As Stone reaches the Twilight Warden, the ratman comes to life. He draws his scimitar and in one smooth motion chops at Stone’s arm. “Ow!” Stone yells, as the sword bites deep into the forearm. He falls out of the tree. 

Everyone tries to act at once. Miriel tries to cast _hold person_ again, but this time the spell fails. Swims With Fishes and Drinks With Orcs throw javelins, but they miss. Paks fires another arrow, and this one hits, catching the ratman in the leg. 

Chuck tries to climb up the tree, and succeeds, reaching the ratman. He tries to grapple his enemy out of the tree, but the ratman makes a slashing blow with the scimitar, biting deep through Chuck’s leather armor and into his chest. The viper bites the ratman again, but he hardly pays attention to the little snake. Hands of Fire tries to climb to aid him, but again falls from the tree. The rat man hisses, “You'll never leave the swamp alive.” 

Miriel rushes over to Stone, who is holding his right arm cradled to his stomach. “I think it’s broken,” he says, his face white.

“Here,” she takes his arm. “Madriel, heal this bone,” she intones. Stone grimaces as the bone slides back into place, but the goddess’ healing is swift and sure. Within seconds, the arm is fit again and color is returning to his face.

“Thanks,” he tells her.

Fists of Fury begins climbing the tree. He gets halfway up, but then finds himself stuck, unable to get further without dislodging Chuck. Goldpetal starts walking over from the obscuring mist, and takes a calm, unhurried shot. Finally, an arrow flies true despite the wind, and wounds the rat man.

In the tree, the ratman attacks Chuck with his scimitar and short sword. He gets a solid blow in with the short sword, but Chuck keeps his balance and stays in the tree. “I'm the Warden for this sector,” the ratman hisses, “And no one gets through.” 

On the ground, Stone says, “Everyone, help me up the tree.” With the sure lift of a dwarf, Paks, and two lizard men, he makes it easily. He lithely swings past Fists of Fury, on a lighter branch, and reaches the ratman. He tries to grapple with it, but can’t get close enough without risking the swords, or a fall. Paks starts climbing up beneath him. 

Chuck chops at the ratman’s tail, cutting it. The ratman hits him as well, a deep gash with the scimitar. Goldpetal tries to throw a rope around the branch the rat man is on, but fails. Miriel asks Madriel to _bless_ us all. As she does, Fists of Fury climbs the rest of the way up the tree, clawing at the ratman, but like Stone, the swords keep him at bay.

The ratman, with so many of us around it in the tree, tries to leap across to another tree, past Fists of Fury and Stone. Fists of Fury claws it once, as it leaps. While the ratman is in mid-air, Stone clotheslines it, and it falls hard to the ground. Stone leaps down onto the rat man, landing on top of it, and flattens it.  “Ooof!” he says. The ratman looks stunned.

Swims With Fishes and Dorin quickly surround the ratman. Swims With Fishes clubs it with his great club, and Dorin hacks it with the bastard sword. Drinks With Orcs jumps down from the tree, but as he lands, we can hear the cracking noise of a leg breaking, and he collapses. 

Paks leaps from the tree, and brings her longsword down over her head in a two-handed blow, smiting the ratman and splitting its skull.

Miriel rushes over to Drinks With Orcs, and finds that he has a nasty compound fracture. One of his shinbones is sticking out through his skin, and he’s bleeding heavily. She makes a quick tourniquet, and then calls for Stone’s help. They give Drinks a piece of leather to bite down on, and Miriel and Stone set the bone. He lets out a great roar of pain and then falls unconscious. Finally, Miriel calls upon her goddess to knit the bone and ease the lizard man’s pain. By the time she is done, he is awake, alert, and can even put weight on the leg, although he still has a slight limp.

Paks, Goldpetal, and Chuck search the body. In addition to the scimitar and short sword, he’s wearing a studded leather armor made of extraordinarily supple leather. He also has a short sword, a long bow with plenty of arrows, and a bunch of tiny little flick knives.

Chuck takes a silver and jet amulet from around the ratman’s neck. “Hey, this is sort of a mockery of the Vigilants' medallions,” he says. 

Goldpetal looks at the flick knives, and says, “These are all poisoned.”

Paks has been looking at the scimitar. “Wow,” she says, “This is a fine weapon, a real masterwork.” 

Dorin steps over to look at it. “Yes, ’tis indeed. I know not the maker’s mark, but ’tis well made.”

Paks turns to the elf. “Goldpetal, the scimitar is your weapon. Do you want it?” she asks. “Wait, let me see if I can detect any evil taint on any of this, first.”

Paks concentrates on the body and his equipment. “The rat man has a stink of corruption about him,” she says, “But I think he is the only thing that is evil.”

“Of course,” says Goldpetal, as she hands him the scimitar. “Evil does not reside in a tool, only in how it is used.”

Chuck picks up the studded leather armor and the flick knives. 

Stone offers the longbow to Novalia, but when she refuses, Goldpetal takes it. 

“I’ll take the amulet,” Miriel asserts. 

“I’ll cast _detect magic_ on it later,” Telryn says, “When we’re free of the swamp.”

Paks gives the short sword to Dorin. “Here is a blade to call your own,” she says, “Earned by force of arms.” 

He bows at her. “Thank you, milady,” he says. “ ’Tis not as fine a blade, but perhaps more to my size.”

Chuck takes off his old armor, and tries the new armor on. It fits terribly, at first, but once he figures out how to adjust the straps, he finds that it becomes very comfortable indeed. It is supple, almost buttery and conforms easily and silently with his movements. He tosses his old armor away, leaving it there by the corpse.

We move on into the gathering storm.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #15: Out of the Swamp: Episode 5 of 5*

The day never does lighten, and the wind and rain build to a tremendous fury, but it seems that the defeat of the Twilight Warden has put an end to our pursuers.

Finally, as a dark day descends into night, we reach the edge of the swamp. We’re thoroughly exhausted and soaked to the bone. We can dimly see the lights of Kratys Freehold, perhaps an hour’s walk further, through the rain.

Chuck shakes his head. “I expected more trouble,” he yells, and it is hard to hear him over the whistling of the wind.

“Even the monsters of the swamp have more sense than to be out in a storm like this!” Telryn declares.

Miriel turns to the five lizard men. “Here we are,” she yells. “Do any of you wish to come with us?”

Drinks With Orcs shakes his head, and Red Scale says, “No, human lands.” Swims With Fishes and Fists of Fury are equally unwilling. Swims With Fishes points to Stone’s bag, and the half-orc gives them some gems as their share of the treasure.

Hands of Fire steps forward, and says, “I will.” He says something rapid in Draconic to the other four, and Fists of Fury nods as though accepting a commission.

Through Telryn’s interpreting, Paks shouts to the other four, “Thank you for everything, your hospitality and your assistance. If your tribe ever needs my services, I am forever indebted for your help.” She points out the lights of Kratys Freehold, barely visible through the rain and dark. “Send word through them if you need my help.”

A crash of lightning illuminates the night scene, and we start hurrying towards the Freehold.



By the time we reach the Freehold, the ground is flooding. The storm has grown to an incredible strength, and we walk bent into the wind. Lightning flashes several times a minute, and it feels as though the gods rage against the very earth.

It takes all of us calling and pounding on the gate of the freehold before the guard in the tower can hear us, our words whipped away by the wind. He alerts the townsfolk, and finally we are let in and led to the great hall.

Taryn Kratys greets Paks warmly at the door of the hall. “It’s you!” he exclaims. “We thought you were dead!” As she steps out of the way, and the refugees file into the hall, he exclaims, “And who are all those people with you?”

He’s even more surprised when Hands of Fire ducks into the hall. Some of the women and children scream, but Paks introduces him. “This is my ‘brother’, Hands of Fire. He and his tribe helped us against the ratmen, or we would all have perished.”

Llewyn comes down the stairs into the room, and rushes across to Chuck. “Chuck, you're alive!” she shouts, giving him a big hug. Then she straightens up and pulls away, saying demurely, “Oh, um... It’s nice to see you.” 

Even Stone draws admiration and a warm greeting from his former drinking buddies – the golden crown he wears, taken from the ghoul-king, draws many questions.

As we dry off, Paks and Miriel tell a brief version of our story, with commentary by Telryn, Chuck, and Stone. Myrs makes us some food, and as the long tale comes out, everyone is amazed at our adventures. Even Taryn, as experienced a swordsman as anyone we know, is very complimentary. 

Finally, at the close of the story, Paks tells Taryn, “And so we brought them here, hoping that they might find some work here as you rebuild after the attack.”

Telryn says, “The first thing we’ll need to do is find them some clothes, but…” He stands and up raises his voice. “You are all welcome,” he says, “To stay at the freehold as long as you need to, and as long as you’re willing to work.” 

Myrs brings some clothes. Not all of them fit the refugees, but they are certainly better than the clothes they wore in, which Myrs takes to burn, in case of disease.

We also take the time to cast some healing. Stone and Chuck are the most badly hurt, and Miriel, Goldpetal, and Novalia all cast healing spells for both of them before they are back to fitness.

As the evening winds down, Paks asks Dorin about his story. Dorin says “I was a traveling smith,” he says, “And I was traveling in western Vesh about six months ago, many miles from the swamp. I was attacked by ratmen, which I never expected to see so far north. They knocked me out, and when I came to I was being dragged through the swamp. I thought I was going to die a slave, but we dwarves are a hardy lot, and I survived longer than most.”

“Where do you want to go now?” Paks asks him.

“Do ye know the Laughing Ogre Inn, in Southport?”

“Of course we do!” she exclaims.

“My cousin, Thorin Silvershield, used to travel with Fox Dunharrow, back in the old days. Does he still keep the inn?”

“He does,” she assures him, “And he’s been a good friend to us.”

When the meal is done, we plead exhaustion and retire for a room, where we count Stone's loot. There are 33 gems of various sorts, cheap and badly cut, 55 platinum pieces, 6575 gold pieces, and 321 silver pieces. The gold pieces are a great variety, from all over, and Paks shakes her head. “We won’t be able to sell these at face value,” she says. “We’ll have to exchange them.”

We all sleep through the night, perhaps twelve hours, even Goldpetal, who normally sleeps far less and prefers to sleep outdoors.



The next day, after arising late, we tell Taryn the whole story. When we get to the part about the red pearl, he says, “That’s a pearl of Khadum. Every once in a while they wash up from the sea that is tainted with the blood of the titan. They are sometimes called a Pearl of Agony. If you know the name of a person, the pearl can inflict grain pain on them. It is most frequently used to subdue people to the will of the holder, with the threat of further pain if they do not comply.”

Telryn takes the day to cast _identify_ on more of the items we found. 

The silver scimitar turns out to be a magical silver scimitar, and, as Paks had determined, very evil. He says it will strike true, and for more damage, than a normal scimitar, but he can't tell what else it does. 

The two books Telryn brought out are Slytherin to Leadan translation. Leadan was the old empire language, and many current languages are descended from Leadan, though different from it and each other. Telryn knows Leadan and thinks that he could learn Slytherin by studying this book. 

The silver ring has three arrows inscribed inside. Novalia tells us that this is the symbol of Tanil. Telyrn figures out that you can twist the ring, and it makes it easier for you to hide. This doesn’t work if somebody is looking right at you, or if you are garishly out of place, but it would work very well in woods or darkness. 

The wooden ring is some sort of alarm system, which warns you if you’re near titan-sanctified areas.

The potions are Blur and Vision.

The amulet is a powerful talisman, which helps the wearer spot things out of the ordinary. “It may have other powers,” Telryn warns. 

Chuck is very excited by the amulet, and Miriel hands it to him. 

Paks gets annoyed. “Don’t start grabbing,” she says. “Let’s divide everything in an orderly manner.”

“I just want the amulet,” Chuck says.

“And the armor, and the flick knives, and the manacles,” Paks points out. 

We spread the treasure out in front of us, and find that we have acquired: 
•	33 assorted (cheap) gems 
•	55 platinum pieces 
•	6575 gold pieces 
•	321 silver pieces 
•	5 pieces of jade 
•	7 sapphires 
•	16 pieces of quartz 
•	A non-magical scroll containing a message in Slytherin
•	The red “Pearl of Khadum,” or “Pearl of Agony” 
•	6 obsidian stones 
•	An evil silver scimitar, probably with additional powers 
•	Sltherin to Lieden dictionary (2 volume set) 
•	A silver ring inscribed with 3 arrows which helps the user hide
•	A wooden ring – Warns of Titan-sanctified areas 
•	A cloudy potion of Blur 
•	A clear potion of Vision 
•	3 vials of glitter ink 
•	2 vials of acid 
•	The parchment ledger scrolls 
•	The silver, jet, and bone amulet 
•	A masterwork scimitar 
•	A fine mace, perhaps a masterwork
•	The supple studded leather armor which Chuck is wearing
•	15 poisoned flick knives 


Safe and dry in Kratys Freehold, we can finally begin to relax.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Just wanted to let you know that I'm still reading here.

GW


----------



## Amaroq

*Thank you!*

Talk about a loyal audience - you mean an unexplained seven-month layoff wasn't enough to completely alienate everyone? Seriously, I appreciate the show of support. Thank you. I was stunned to see this explot listed in somebody's post over in piratecat's story hour as one of their favorites despite the lengthy layoff, and I'm looking forward to getting this caught up with where we are for real.

My all-time favorite adventure is Issue #16, coming up next week...


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Allright! I'm looking forward to seeing where it goes from here.


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## Graywolf-ELM

Amaroq said:
			
		

> ... I was stunned to see this explot listed in somebody's post over in piratecat's story hour as one of their favorites despite the lengthy layoff, ...
> 
> My all-time favorite adventure is Issue #16, coming up next week...




I posted a good list of the story hours I keep up with, for someone looking for some good ones to read while waiting for piratecat.  I'm pretty stubborn, you pretty much have to say the story is over to have me take it off my list.

Looking forward to it.  I don't know much about the scarred lands setting, and am enjoying learning about it through your writing here.

GW


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #16: The Shrine of Gormoth - Episode 1 of 5*

22nd of March, 2003​Issue #16

The Shrine of Gormoth​
_We have been busy since the attack on Kratys Freehold. We followed the remnants of the defeated ratman army, tracking them through the treacherous Mourning Marsh, a desolate swamp filled with uncounted horrors. 

We met and allied with a band of lizard men, helping cleanse their lake of an ancient evil, and in return they helped us find the rat man warren. Together, we entered the rats’ lair, and in a climactic battle, defeated their shaman and a great albino warrior. The last survivors of the Disease tribe scattered far and wide, and it will be many years before that tribe bothers Vesh again. 

We rescued twenty-one slaves, and put to merciful death others which had been infected with the Slimy Doom. Through a gathering storm, we escorted the refugees out of the swamp and have brought almost all of them safely to Kratys Freehold, slipping through the gates just hours before the full fury of the storm broke over southern Vesh._


It is the first Charday of Madrer, the sixth day of the second month of fall. A great storm rages outside, and though it is the middle of the afternoon, it is almost dark beneath the towering dark clouds which loom overhead. After nine days of tramping around in the depths of a swamp, we are all too happy to be safe, warm, and dry in Kratys Freehold.

At the moment, we’re sitting in a room just off the hold’s common hall with Taryn Kratys and his family: his wife, Myrs; the ranger, Llewyn; and the smith, Brand. The discussion has turned to the division of the magic and treasure we acquired in our last adventure. Taryn has been asking for some financial support, and concludes his argument with, “It would help us if you could spare about two hundred gold pieces. We need to buy food for the slaves, and get it transported from Southport or Lave. As you know, our harvest was destroyed in the battle with the rat men, and now we have even more people to feed. In addition to our own people, and the newly freed slaves, there is now a small garrison of professional men at arms here, sent from Lave. We’re responsible for provisioning them as well.”

Novalia turns to the rest of the group. “Why don’t we give them four hundred? We can afford it, and they’ve certainly done a lot for us.” 

Miriel and Paks are nodding, and Chuck says, “Let it be so.”

“Thank you! Your kindness is outshone only by your skill at arms,” Taryn exclaims. 

“You’re most welcome,” Miriel says graciously, and Novalia looks very pleased.

“Before we divide the remainder of this,” Paks starts, gesturing to the pile of treasure on the table, “I think we need to decide what to do with the scimitar. I can feel the evil taint on it; I think we should destroy it.”

“I agree,” Miriel says. She looks down on the great silver scimitar which the albino once wielded, and it is as though a palpable evil rests on the table. She shudders.

“I don’t think we should destroy it,” Goldpetal objects. “I think it can still be used to destroy Titanspawn.”

“I don’t think that would be safe,” Paks warns. “A blade this evil could corrupt the wielder to its purpose.”

“In any case,” Telryn interjects, “We should study it more, before anyone wields it.”

Chuck interrupts. “I’m not interested in this,” he says. “I’m going to go practice flying. Call me when we divide up the treasure?”

Miriel puts out a hand. “No, stop. We’ll divide up the rest of the treasure, and decide about the scimitar later. For my share, I want to destroy the Agony Pearl.”

Telryn says, “Absolutely. I agree.” Nobody dissents – a magical pearl which causes pain and agony is something none of us wants a part of.

Goldpetal picks up the wooden ring which Telryn had identified it as a Titan-warning ring. “I’ll keep this,” he tells us. He seems to feel strongly about it, perhaps due to his religion. 

Miriel says, “I’ll take the potion of _blur_.”

Chuck asks, “Can I have the potion of _vision_?” When there is no dissent, he picks it up.

Stone says, “I’m keeping the crown.” The ghoul-king’s crown hasn’t left his head, and he crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the rest of us, as though daring anyone to try to take it from him. The half-orc is intimidating, even to his companions, and no-one objects.

Telryn tentatively requests, “I’d like the glitter ink and the five vials of acid.” His quest has been to find glitter ink, and he is all too happy to claim it as his share.

While we’ve been talking, Myrs and Taryn have been studying the studded leather armor we found. While we were in the swamp, Chuck had been wearing it, but now it is one of the treasures available for division. Now Myrs looks up from the examination and tells us, “This is made from the hides of a myre worm. It is very rare.”

“What’s a myre worm?” asks Paks.

“They are great beasts, perhaps twenty feet long,” Taryn explains. “They live in deeper water, well into the swamp. They have a gigantic maw, and eat nearly anything. A person would be a nice meal for one, and blood in the water may bring even more. You were lucky not to meet them!”

“I’d like to keep the armor,” Chuck says, pulling it off the table.

“I’m the only one that uses the scimitar,” Goldpetal says, taking the masterwork scimitar instead of the enchanted evil blade. 

Telryn asks, “Does anybody else want the dictionaries?”

Everybody is shaking their head. Chuck says, “I’ll keep the enchanted manacles.”

Hands of Fire, the great seven-foot tall lizard man warrior whom we met in the swamp, picks up the fine metal mace we found. He swings it around experimentally, and exclaims, in his broken common, “Metal club, good! Wooden club from ancestor tree, not as good.”

Brand overhears him. “I can make you a heavy morning-star,” he offers, “Especially if Dorin is willing to help.” Dorin, who isn’t in the room, is a dwarven smith who was one of the slaves we rescued from the ratmen. Telryn translates Brand’s words for Hands of Fire, who understands some common, but has trouble following someone who speaks rapidly.

“Hands of Fire, for now, you take the mace,” Paks says. “I’ll take the Twilight Warden's longbow; it suits me much better than the short bow I’ve been using.”

“Oh, I wanted that,” Chuck says. “I lost my bow in the warren.”

Paks looks at him sharply. “You’ve already had three shares!”

“Okay,” he says, “I’ll just buy a new bow from the freeholders.”

“What about his amulet?” Miriel asks.

“I’d like it,” Chuck and Goldpetal say simultaneously.

“Let’s keep the amulet for the party,” Miriel says. “I’ll hold onto it, for now.”

“That leaves the Hide ring,” Telryn says. “I’d like that, if I may.”

“Sure,” Chuck says. “I’ll see if I can get the poison off of these flick knives.”

“Use fire,” Taryn advises.

“Okay, we’ll divide up the coins evenly,” Paks says. “But Novalia, Stone, Hands of Fire, and I have gotten less of the magic than you all have, so we four will divide up the gems and jewelry.”

“That seems fair,” Telryn says.

With that, we are done with the treasure. Each member of the party seems happy with their share, although Goldpetal’s purple eyes glint inscrutably.



Later, Paks, Telryn, and Miriel find Brand, the smith, and gather to discuss the evil scimitar.

“Telryn,” Paks says, “How can we unmake this foul thing?”

“I don’t know,” Telryn says. “My training did not progress that far.”

“Brand, would you be able to melt it down?” asks Miriel.

“Were it a normal blade, yes,” the smith says with a shake of his head, “But a magical blade with the taint of evil? I can try, but I doubt I have the skills to deal with such a work. You may need a powerful wizard to unmake it.”

Chuck buys a new bow from the freeholders. The young Vigilant then sets to burning the poison off the flick knives and washing out the vials. Myrs and Telryn work on translating the Slytherin scrolls. The rest of us help out around the freehold, each doing what they can to repay our hosts for their hospitality. 

The storm continues to rage outside, but by evening, its fury begins to wane.



As we gather for dinner, Dorin Silvershield, the dwarf we rescued from slavery to the ratmen, finds us all. “I thank you again for freeing me,” he says. “I owe you a great debt. If you be going on to Southport, I would accompany you.”

“We have not yet laid plans,” Miriel tells him.

Dorin takes out a gold piece, and draws a rune on it with his index finger. His finger glows as he does so. “This is the rune of my clan, the Silvershield,” he says, and hands the coin to Paks. She looks at it, and the rune is etched on the coin in a glowing script. As she watches, it fades away. “If ever you come to the Burok-Torn, citadel of the dwarves in the Kelder Mountains,” he continues formally, “You may use this token to gain entrance to the dwarven city. My clan owes you a debt: if you need help, you have but to reach us to receive assistance.”

“You are gracious indeed,” Paks says. “We thank you.”

Dinner is served, and we begin to eat. Myrs keeps a fine table, and the food is excellent. We mingle with the townsfolk and the refugees, and spirits are high. One of the former slaves is a fine singer, and many in the hall join him when he reaches the chorus. Goldpetal contributes a song, with the haunting beauty of an elven ballad, which brings tears to many an eye even if the language is understood by only a few. Stories are traded, and we are again asked to give a rendition of our adventures.

Finally, as the dinner winds down, we all gather around a single table in the back of the room. 

“We should discuss what we want to do next,” Paks says. “I think we’ve discharged our obligation to the Freehold, and to these freedmen. Do we want to return to Southport?”

Goldpetal speaks first. “I want to hire people to tear down the standing stones,” he says. The standing stones are a ring of great stones positioned on a hilltop perhaps five or six hours travel from Kratys Freehold. We explored them a few weeks earlier, and discovered an altar, with dried blood on it, and sensed a great evil. We think that the place was used for Titan worship. “I also want to find out more about the Elvish city in the swamp. Eventually, I plan to finish my journey to Rika.”

Miriel nods. “I will be returning to Lave,” she says. “I must report back to my high priestess at the Cathedral there. I do think we should send a message to Southport, with Dorin, to wrap up our employment there.”

“I want to stay here,” Novalia tells us, “And purge the rat men from the swamp! I think we should hire some mercenaries from Lave, and build a force here. With the stalwart hearts of this company, we could stand as a shield between civilized land and the Titanspawn of the Mourning Marshes.” 

“I need to return to Mullis Town,” Telryn says, shaking his head at her idea, “To take this glitter ink to my master. Mullis Town is a few days north of Lave, so Miriel, I’d go with you to the capital.”

“I will have revenge,” Chuck vows. We don’t need to ask what for: twice he has apprenticed himself to elder Vigil, Steve and Jim, and both have been killed by ratmen. “I want to continue my training, and to fight against evil.” After a moment’s thought, he adds, “I also need to practice flying.”

Paks says, “Miriel, I’d go to Lave with you. I want to ask your priestess some questions. But I’d like to pass through Southport on our way there.”

Miriel shakes her head. “I don’t feel that I can delay further,” she tells Paks regretfully.

There is a brief lull in the conversation, and then Telryn launches into a story which he hasn’t told us before. “My father, Kellharyn,” he tells us, “Was a Callastian battle mage. He was supporting Virduk’s first foray into Durrover, but I understand that he was more interested in the study of the Arcane than the conquering of foes.

“His company raided a village, and captured a priestess of Madriel. Instead of treating her with the respect that she deserved, the war leaders decided to try to extract information of Durrover’s defenses from her, in a most un-respectful manner. Kellharyn stepped to her aid, and one dark night, he freed the priestess, helped her escape, and deserted his order all in one moment.” The noise of the wind howling outside lends drama to the tale.

“They were on the run for many months, and eventually, they fell in love. They committed themselves to trying to stop, or at least stall, Virduk’s progress into Durrover. To this day, they are a powerful force for good, and continue to travel in, out, and around Durrover doing whatever they can to harry the Callastian forces and help those in need.

“They had two children, my older sister, and myself.” When Telryn’s story moves away from the dramatic rescue, Chuck becomes bored, and wanders away. Telryn continues, uninterrupted. “Recognizing that Durrover could not stand long against the Callastian assault, and that my mother could hardly fight while saddled with two babes, they fostered us to a friend of my mother’s. We grew up under the care of a High Cleric of Hedrada, Victor.

“My sister thrived under their strict rules, and became an accomplished man-at-arms. She went on to become a Paladin of Hedrada. However, I became a follower of Madriel, as my mother had before me. Fortunately, Victor recognized my talent for the arcane, and secured an apprenticeship with Loowys Strangeblood, a mage in Mullis Town. After two years of apprenticeship, my master sent me to the mage Delmeron to secure some glitter ink. As you know, Delmeron said he would teleport me where I could find some glitter ink, but the spell went awry, and he teleported me to your side instead.

“So, I don’t believe that I found Miriel by chance,” Telryn concludes, “And I plan to follow her to Lave, as I believe that is what I am meant to do.”

His final declaration is met by nods of understanding, even from those in favor of returning to Southport: the gods move in mysterious ways, and this is a reason everyone can understand. 

In the ensuing silence, from up on the roof, we hear a faint shout. “Don’t do it!” This is followed by a short scream and a crunching thump. 

Miriel yells, “Chuck!” and runs outside. Stone follows; the rest of us stay inside and dry. 

Miriel finds Chuck crumpled in the interior courtyard. She helps him to his feet, but he is limping heavily. She gives it a quick examination, and says, “You’ve sprained an ankle. Here, come inside, and let me bind it up.” With Stone helping on one side, and Miriel on the other, Chuck hobbles into the hall.

She and Stone are soaking wet, but minutes after she’s finished binding the leg, we hear a commotion again. One of the guards comes in, and tells us, “You’d better stop your friend. He keeps jumping off the roof.” 

Miriel goes outside, and finds that this time he’s broken his ankle. Again, Stone helps haul him inside, where Miriel gives him a lecture. “Have you learned your lesson yet?” she asks, as she calls Madriel’s healing to mend the fracture.

Chuck nods wearily. “It’s not the best day for flying,” he says. “The wind is too strong.”


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #16: The Shrine of Gormoth - Episode 2 of 5*

During the night, the wind relents, and the rain lessens to a steady drumming. Goldpetal slips outside to sleep out doors, as is his wont – the previous night was the first time anyone remembers seeing the elf sleep indoors of his own volition. By dawn on Belsaday, the seventh day of Madrer, the rain has stopped, and the sun peeks through from the horizon. The storm has passed. Miriel and Goldpetal are both pleased, as their dawn rites are more meaningful with the light of the sun.

When they return, we gather in the dining hall. Over breakfast, enjoying the fine meal which Myrs has prepared, we resume our discussion about where to go. 

“We need to decide where we go from here,” Miriel tells us firmly. “I would like to set out for Lave as soon as possible. If any of you are willing to come with me, that’s good, but if not, I will go, regardless.”

“I still think we should stop through Southport,” Paks argues stubbornly. “We still have unfinished business, and we at least owe Grilliam a report.”

“I agree with Paks,” Chuck says. “We should finish out our contract.”

“I’ll go where Miriel goes,” Stone says implacably.

“That goes for me, too,” Telryn agrees, “Though I would like to stay here for a few days to have some quiet time for studying.”

“I have little interest in going to Lave,” declares Goldpetal. The druid turns his eyes to Paks. “Paks, if you decide to go through Southport, I do feel we owe Grilliam our report. If you follow Miriel to Lave, I will return to Southport with Dorin – though elves have no love of dwarves – and discharge our obligation there.”

Six pairs of eyes turn towards Novalia. The newcomer shakes her head. “Oh, no. Don’t look at me to play tiebreaker,” she says emphatically. “I’d rather stay here.”

It is evenly split, and it seems no argument can break the deadlock. A silence lingers, and the specter of dissolving our companionship begins to loom in everyone’s minds. Finally, Paks steps in conciliatorily. “We could all use a rest,” she offers, “And the roads won’t be easy to travel so soon after a rain, anyways. Let’s stay here for another day.”

This meets with almost universal agreement. Seeing that everyone but her agrees with this, Miriel reluctantly concedes. “I can stay for a short while at the freehold,” she says, “So that I can travel back to Lave with at least part of this company for protection, but I must leave tomorrow.”



Through that morning, we are all feeling happy and full of joy. We are not in the cursed swamp, we don’t have to constantly watch out for rat men, and we’ve all had a bath. Even Stone, over his half-hearted protests, has enjoyed his first bath since the Laughing Ogre Inn. Stone, Paks, Chuck, and Hands of Fire spend the morning working with a large group on building shelter for the refugees. The solution of having them sleep in the freehold’s great hall would not work for an extended period, and an additional dormitory-like building needs to be constructed. With the strength of the half-orc and the lizard man, they make much quicker progress than expected. All throughout the morning, Llewyn finds excuse after excuse to be by Chuck’s side. The rest of us find this very amusing, but all he can seem to think about is flying and ducks.

While the stronger folk work, Telryn begs not to be interrupted, and finds a quiet room in which to study his books. Goldpetal performs a harvest ritual, helped by a couple of the townsfolk, Miriel, and Novalia. 

By lunch, however, the mood begins to grow more somber. “Have you seen the Nameless Orb?” Goldpetal asks, referring to the world’s second moon. “It is full today.”

Stone shrugs it off. “The gods tell us we should not pay attention to it,” he declares.

“It's very odd,” Novalia adds. “Its been visible all day, despite the clouds.” 

“This is a very bad omen,” Goldpetal warns. Half-orc and elf glare at each other, and then shrug. 

Miriel has felt a vague sense of unease throughout the day; however, she can’t define it, and says nothing. After lunch the priestess secludes herself in meditation, asking Madriel to aid her in divining the source of the problem. No inspiration comes to her, just a steadily growing feeling of horror.

Novalia takes Paks off for a talk, and outlines her plan to build a small force to guard the Veshian border, using the walls of Kratys Freehold as a starting point. She has a very detailed plan for hiring mercenaries with the money we made, using lizard men as guides, basing a force around the Freehold’s new garrison of men at arms, building barracks, and reinforcing the walls of the freehold. 

Paks declines, saying that while she can see that it is an important job which needs to be done, she does not feel the call that tells her that it is her job.

Novalia gives Paks a shopping list which she has prepared, and asks her to buy the items on it, and send them back to Kratys Freehold. One of the items on the list is a group of mercenaries, which she tells Paks to put in charge of delivering the remaining goods. Over Paks’ uneasy objections, Novalia tells the former mercenary that she trusts Paks to pick an honorable company for it.

When Miriel is done with her meditation, she spends the afternoon studying with Myrs. Telryn is off on his own, buried in scrolls and spellbooks, as he has been all day. Stone and Hands of Fire keep helping with the building, while Chuck spends the afternoon working on fletching arrows. Llewyn takes the opportunity to approach Chuck, but again all he wants to talk about is ducks. What was funny in the morning strikes everyone as very sad in the afternoon. 



In the later part of the afternoon, Paks and Goldpetal go off to talk, walking through the apple grove beyond the walls of the freehold. 

Paks tells the elf that Milo told her, before he left, some very strange things about Miriel. “I don’t know if they are true,” she says, “But he implied that he was an agent of Madriel’s church, and that she was not behaving as a priestess of Madriel would. I don’t trust the little git, but he gave me this holy symbol, which spoke some words in his favor, at least.”

“She was certainly the one most opposed to him,” Goldpetal says thoughtfully. “Which makes sense both if his tale is true, or if he were a liar.”

“I don’t mean to spread discord. I just thought, if anything should happen to me, somebody else should know,” Paks tells him. “I don’t think there’s anything to do about it immediately.”

They walk in silence for a minute, and then Paks changes the subject. “Have you felt anything odd today?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head and giving her his full attention – an uncomfortable moment, since he frequently appears not to. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve had a vague sense of dread all day,” she tells him. “I thought it was my imagination, at first, but it grows stronger and stronger. I feel like something is very wrong.”

“I have noticed nothing,” the elf tells her. “But I will stay alert tonight.”



As the sun begins to set, everyone gathers in the main hall. Conversation is subdued and quiet, and Stone and Chuck are drinking heavily. Miriel is in the kitchen, helping to prepare for the evening meal. Brand and Dorin enter with the morningstar, which they have spent all day forging for Hands of Fire. The lizard man is very pleased, and so overcome that he has trouble expressing his thanks in Common.

Midway through the meal, Telryn arrives and asks for lunch. Normally, everyone might have laughed, but the somber mood has spread, and the hall is quiet. Conversation turns to halting awkward pause by the end of the meal, and afterwards everyone is sitting in an attitude of morose lassitude.

Just after sunset, a guard bursts into the main hall. “Captain!” he says breathlessly. “We need you at the gate! A strange ratman needs to speak to you and the heroes!” 

“What?” Taryn exclaims, “A ratman? And he’s not dead? Why isn’t he shot full of arrows?”

The guard looks embarrassed. “That’s just the thing, sir,” he says nervously. “We can’t seem to fire at it.”

Taryn grunts impatiently. “Send for Myrs and Miriel,” he says. “Let’s meet this ratman.”

The leader of the Freehold heads for the gate, followed by the rest of the party. We climb behind him to the top of the freehold’s hall, overlooking the gate. In the crisp autumn twilight, we can see a robed rat man leaning on a wooden staff, cloaked and hooded. Two guards stand staring at him, apparently unable or unwilling to draw their bows. 

Novalia and Goldpetal immediately try to draw theirs, but find that they cannot find the heart to bring their weapons to bear. Chuck manages to draw his, and aims at the rat man, but hesitates. Taryn, however, has no hesitation. He grabs a bow from a guard, and fires. The arrow flies straight towards the ratman, aimed directly between his eyes. Just as it reaches him, the ratman casually knocks the arrow away, as one might brush aside a fly. 

The ratman pulls back his hood, and we see that his fur is mottled black and white, and he has no eyes at all! He addresses us in a strange whistling accent, as if he is speaking a tongue very foreign to him. “Humans! Slytherin Killers! Listen to me, you must! 

“I am Sklar-d’sklas of the Unseeing. Evil, unspeakable, stopped, it must be. Feel it, can you not? Are you blind? Waxing, the power of the dark moon, night of ritual power. To the site of power, look!” 

With his last words, he points off to the hill of the standing stones, looming many miles to the east. As he points, a large bonfire of lavender flames ignites atop the hill! 

“Ancient hated enemies, followers of Twisted Gormoth, prepare. Evil Rituals to enact! Stop them, now, you must! Or too late it will be!”

“Why do you tell us this?” Goldpetal demands.

The rat man does not answer, he just covers his head with his hood and quickly strides off into the gathering gloom. Chuck looses the arrow at him, and he casually reaches behind himself, batting the arrow out of mid-air without breaking stride or turning.

“No way!” Stone exclaims passionately. He jumps off the parapet, landing in a tumble which breaks his fall. “I’ll take care of the blind one,” he yells up at us. “You guys take care of the ritual!” He sprints after the rat man, quickly disappearing into the shadows of the orchard.

“What do you make of that?” asks Chuck. 

“I have never encountered one of the Unseeing before,” Goldpetal tells us. “But I’ve heard many tales of them. It is said that they live in the south of the Ganjus Forest, where I grew up. They used to follow Golthain the Faceless. Golthain had the power to feel all living things. The other Titans mocked him, and tortured him; destroying all his senses. He was the only Titan who surrendered, and the gods allowed him to be absorbed into Denev. The Unseeing are all blind, born without eyes. Instead of sight, they have an empathic sense. They hate all the other tribes of rat men terribly; this hatred is equaled only by their hatred of the followers of the gods, who they believe betrayed the Titans. They are hard to find, as there are very few of them, and each is an expert monk.”

Paks inquires, “Who or what is Gormoth?”

“Gormoth is one of the worst Titans of all,” Goldpetal tells her. “He is known as the Writhing Lord. He was the first Titan to figure out how to create sentient beings, and all the other Titans were jealous, so they poisoned him and fed him to parasitic worms. They then buried him; he was supposedly dead, but eons later he returned twisted and mad. Eventually, he was cloven in two by Chardun and Vangal. His two halves lie on either side of a forgotten canyon. His followers are all mad, and devotees of pain, both giving and receiving.” 

Taryn adds, “The rat men who follow him are known as The Stricken. They live far south of here. They are all twisted, with weird appendages and strange powers, and they are very evil, and very mad.” 

Miriel asks, “How long would it take us to get to the hill?”

“You won’t make it by midnight on foot,” Taryn tells her. “You can borrow horses from the freehold, though. I’d think, in the dark, you can make it in about five hours on horseback.”

“I’m going to go get my armor,” Paks says, stepping down off the parapet.

Miriel, Chuck, and Goldpetal all go to get their armor as well.  Miriel also grabs a couple of loaves of bread from the kitchen. We leave the treasure in the freehold, taking only those items, such as the potions, which have become part of our equipment.

On the top of the parapet, Telryn gives a quick summary to Hands of Fire, in Draconic. “Is good,” the lizard man tells him. “I try out new morningstar.” 

Within minutes, we are all gathered in the courtyard. We only have to borrow a few horses, as most of us had left ours at the freehold before we went into the swamp. Paks asks Taryn, “Will anyone from the freehold come and help us?”

Taryn shakes his head. “No. I need all of my people.” In lieu of manpower, Myrs offers a blessing upon us. 

We ride away, moving as quickly as we can to take advantage of the last light. Goldpetal leads, since he can see in the dark. As we travel, Miriel casts _bread of life_ on the two loaves of bread, imbuing it with Madriel’s healing powers.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #16: The Shrine of Gormoth - Episode 3 of 5*

We arrive at the bottom of the hill just around midnight. As we draw near, the ring on Goldpetal’s finger gives him a sharp shock. Looking up atop the hill, we can see four large braziers, with leaping purple flames, and three figures moving among the towering, ancient stones. 

Goldpetal puts his fingers to his lips. “Three of them,” he whispers.

Telryn whispers, “Wait a moment, while I cast a few spells. This won’t take long.” 

“That’s a good idea,” whispers Paks. “I’ve something to cast, too.”

The mage casts _mage armor_ on himself and _bull’s strength_ on Paks. Paks casts _protection from evil_ on herself. Novalia offers the blessing of Tanil to Paks and Chuck, which they both accept. 

Novalia says, “Let’s shoot arrows or a _magic missile_, to disrupt the ritual.”

Chuck shakes his head. “We need to see what’s going on first.”

Miriel hands out a piece of the enchanted bread to each of us, keeping two for herself. Thus prepared, we begin to sneak up towards the circle of stones.

As we draw near, unseen in the shadows, we catch our first glimpse of the Stricken. These strange rat men are twisted and disfigured, with weird bumps in their skin, and extra limbs. One has three arms and two tails, another has a lion claw coming out of his back, and the third has a third leg which has an extra mouth on it. They are each larger than the typical Disease ratmen which we are familiar with. None of them are wearing armor, but each wears a harness-like belt which has things dangling from it; we are not close enough to discern whether the objects are useful, or mere adornment.

When we reach the edge of the standing stones, we can see that they are not performing a ritual. The appear to be standing guard, fairly complacently, and we can hear two of them talking in a coarse, guttural language which none of us understand. Goldpetal’s keen eyes note an elf, lying on the stone table in the center of the ring. When he realizes that it is an eviscerated corpse, his purple eyes flare with rage. 

“Guards,” Paks whispers. 

“Let’s take them out,” Chuck whispers.

Telryn says, “I’ll _summon_ a wolf to attack the furthest one. You archers shoot the other two.” We quickly make our preparations: Telryn readies his spell, Chuck casts _magic fang_ on his viper, and Miriel quietly prays for Madriel to _bless_ us each.  

“Everyone, loose your arrows on my signal,” Paks whispers.

We fan out into about a quarter-circle, where we each have shots through different gaps at the three disfigured ratmen.

Paks draws her bow, and everyone follows suit. When she sees that we are all ready, Paks looses her arrow, and we all fire almost in unison. Telryn begins the arcane chant which will summon the wolf.

Paks’ shot wounds the lion-clawed one, and Goldpetal’s arrow further injures it. Chuck’s arrows both miss high. Hands of Fire hurls a javelin, but it ricochets off of one of the standing stones, and falls harmless to the earth. Novalia’s first arrow wounds the three-legged one, but with her second shot, the bowstring catches her on the side of the head, and she is stunned.

As the ratmen turn to face us, Paks draws her longsword and charges at the lion-clawed one. Her solid blow cuts it practically in half, and it collapses at her feet. 

The wolf springs out of the darkness to attack the three-armed ratman. It misses, but Chuck’s next arrow catches it in the chest. Telryn casts another spell, and the twin cyan bolts of his _magic missile_ further wound it.   The ratman turns and claws with all three arms at the wolf, ripping it to pieces. The magically summoned beast dies in a heartbeat.

Hands of Fire charges at the three-legged one. He leaps up on the table and smashes it with his great morningstar. Goldpetal steps forward, behind him, and shoots at the third one, but his arrow barely nicks it. The twisted figure attacks Hands of Fire, clawing at him twice, and biting at him with both mouths. One claw hits, but the lizard man shrugs it off. Paks moves around to engage it from the other side, and it is now surrounded.

Telryn casts a second _magic missile_ at the three-armed one, and it dies in a blue burst of magical energy, and that frees Chuck to turn his attention to the last ratman. 

The Vigilant steps towards the three-legged one, and from close range his arrow bites deep into its chest. As it turns to face Paks, seeking an escape, Goldpetal’s scimitar flashes brightly. The masterful weapon cuts deeply into sinew and flesh, and the ratman dies at the druid’s feet.

We’ve won the hilltop with almost no injury; while Miriel puts a quick bandage on Hands of Fire’s shoulder, the rest of us we examine the area.

Everyone is disgusted to discover what they’ve done to the elf, whose body lies on the rock altar in the center of the circle of standing stones. The elf’s blood has been emptied from his body, and used to fill a blasphemous rune. On the far side of the altar, a stone opening in the ground reveals a dark stairway leading down into the hill. 

“This seems to be how they opened the passage,” Telryn says, gesturing at the blood-filled rune. Goldpetal is too sorrowful to speak, but a glint of hard anger is visible in his eyes, to those who have learned to read them.

“There was dried blood there the last time we were here,” Chuck reminds us. “Now we know why.”

Miriel performs some hasty last rites for the elf, with advice from Goldpetal. They don’t know his following, but they invoke Madriel and Denev. 

Chuck has been studying the ground. “There are tracks of many rat men,” he says, when they have finished. “I can’t tell how many, since, from the evidence of these,” he gestures to the dead ratmen, “I don't know how many legs they might have. Most of them seem to have gone in there.” He points towards the ominous stairway.



We gather at the opening or the hill. The stairway leading down is ten feet wide but pitch black. Miriel lights a torch, while Chuck draws his dagger, relying on its pale blue magical glow to light our way. Goldpetal and Hands of Fire step to the front, as they have the best night vision. We descend resolutely into the darkness, leaving behind Goldpetal’s hawk and Telryn’s owl.

Thirty feet down, the stairway stops, and becomes a smooth corridor curving to the right. At the bottom of the stairway is a Stricken rat man, impaled on spikes sticking out of the floor. The floor slopes steeply downward, and his blood runs down the hall. As we pass the corpse, Paks slits its throat. “Just in case,” she whispers.

The corridor continues spiraling down in ever-widening circles, like a snail or a conch shell. We don’t see any movement, but stay tightly bunched together in case of surprise attack. When we’re about sixty-five feet down, Goldpetal feels the floor shift slightly beneath his feet. A forest of steel spikes shoots up from the floor, and catches most of the group. Goldpetal is stabbed the worst, but Hands of Fire, Paks, and Telryn are all wounded.

“Is everyone okay?” Miriel asks. 

They all nod. “Wounded, but able to continue,” Paks says. We keep moving. 

After about a hundred feet, the floor suddenly drops out from under the lead group. Goldpetal, Hands of Fire, and Paks disappear with a brief scream and a crunch.

Chuck runs up to the edge, and looks down. He sees that they have fallen about twenty feet down, into a pit. Luckily, the ground is level, not spiked, and they are all helping each other up.

“Are you all right?” he calls down.

“Fine,” grimaces Goldpetal through a clenched jaw.

“I think I’ve twisted an ankle,” reports Paks. 

“Here, I’ll throw you a rope,” Chuck tells her. He pulls out his silk rope and drops it down to them. With Chuck, Telryn, Miriel, and Novalia all helping, we’re able to pull them up fairly easily. Paks is limping.

“Do you want me to look at that?” Miriel asks her.

“No,” the warrior says, gritting her teeth. “We don’t have time.”

“There’s got to be a way past,” Chuck says, looking around the edge of the pit for a lever or passage. “Ah, here it is.”  He finds a little walkway along the side of the hole, which we all use to skirt past it. The passage keeps spiraling downward, into the dark depths. 

We travel another hundred feet without hitting another trap. Everyone is jumpy and nervous. Telryn has his crossbow at the ready, and Novalia has an arrow knocked, although she keeps it pointed at the ground. Goldpetal begins to ease slightly ahead of the rest of us.

Again he steps on some sort of plate in the floor, and suddenly a sweeping blade scythes across the corridor. It cuts him deeply, through the belly, before he leaps back. The blade stops after conducting a semi-circle, and we can see the little alcove it sprung from. 

Goldpetal slumps against the opposite wall. He is grievously hurt, with the sword cut on top of his previous injuries in the pit and at the spikes. He holds his intestines in with his right arm, and fumbles for his bread with his left hand. As Miriel rushes to his aid, he eats the bread. 

“Let me look,” she tells him, and pulls his right arm away, hands ready in case his intestines do fall out. She is just in time to witness the magical healing powers of the bread of life, and the long cut in his stomach quickly closes before her eyes.

“Do you need more healing?” she asks, but he shakes his head.

“No, just a hand up.”

She gives him a hand as he stands. “Here,” she says. “Take the spare chunk of bread.” She hands it to him.

“I’ll take the lead,” says Chuck, walking up from the back of the group. Goldpetal takes the spare chunk of bread, while the rest of us form up behind Chuck. 

“Everybody spread out,” Chuck tells us. “Goldpetal, you follow me, about fifteen feet behind me. That way, only one of us falls into the next trap.”

We spread out, and then continue on. For two hundred feet, whether through luck or absence, we don’t trip any more traps. The passage continues to spiral ever deeper into the hill, and the oppressing sense of ‘wrongness’ which Paks and Miriel had felt earlier in the day seems to emanate from the darkness ahead of us. Even Chuck can feel it, as though the darkness were a palpable thing which we must push through.

Our luck continues to hold when Chuck steps on another floor plate. Massive spikes shoot up from the floor again, but the adroit Vigilant manages to dodge the points: when the trap stops, the spikes are as tall as he is. He has one resting against his back, and another at his chest.

“How many of these are there?” he grumbles. We work our way through them – once triggered, there is room between them, and we can weave our way through them without injury.

Beyond the spikes, Chuck pulls out his grappling hook and starts throwing it at the floor in front of him. This is noisy, but none of us say anything. With the noise of the previous traps, there is little to be lost, and it is clear to all that he hopes to set off any traps before reaching them.

About eighty feet further, the grappling hook does set off a trap. This time, our luck runs out. A jet of flame shoots out of the wall. It is aimed almost head high, and directly at Chuck. It reaches fifty feet back down the corridor, wrapping through the curving spiral, and that hits Goldpetal, Paks, and Hands of Fire as well. Paks is badly burned, and collapses unconscious. Goldpetal is also burned heavily, and quickly eats the other piece of bread.

As the healing of the _bread of life_ works on the elf, he steps to Paks’ side. The flame has burned much of the skin off of her head, and she is losing a lot of blood. “Miriel!” he calls, as he tries to stabilize the young warrior. The priestess steps forward. She calls the blessing of Madriel, and beneath her fingers, the skin regenerates. Within a minute, Paks is healed. She regains consciousness, and shows no sign of the burns.

“Huh,” she says, as she stands up, “Even my ankle feels better. Thanks.” When she’s ready to continue, we move further on.

About twenty feet onward, the corridor begins to straighten out. There's an alcove to the right, and it holds a big metal lever. Chuck illuminates it with the dagger for a moment, then turns to the rest of us.

“There’s a lever here. Leave it alone,” Chuck warns. “I bet it re-sets the traps.” 

We all file past it. When we’re about ten to fifteen feet further along, Telryn, who is in the last row of the group, turns. Before anyone can stop him, he casts a quick spell. We can see the lever, with nobody touching it, pulled to the down position. A loud metallic crunch echoes through the corridor.

“Great,” Chuck says. “Now the traps have been re-set.” Miriel glares at Telryn. He looks sheepishly back at her, then he faces the lever and gestures again. Some unseen force acts on the lever, flipping it back to the other side, but nothing happens. 

“There’s nothing for it but to continue on,” Paks says, though her tone conveys her disgust.

As we walk further, Novalia whispers to Telryn, “What was that?”

“_Mage hand_,” he answers. “It’s a spell I know.”


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #16: The Shrine of Gormoth - Episode 4 of 5*

We have reached the end of the passageway. At its end, it opens up into a cavernous hall. It must be fifty feet wide, and easily a hundred long; the end of the passage opens into the center of one of the narrow sides. The arching ceiling is nearly forty feet above us. A massive crack splits the room, running lengthwise down the center of the floor.  

The room is walled with polished marble with streaks of green running through it. A narrow raised area lines the edge of the walls, about five feet above the floor, and just wide enough to walk on; in fact, where the passage enters the hall is similarly raised. In the center is an altar, with a starburst pattern radiating out from it. The crack runs directly through the altar, as though a great force has split it. At the opposite end of the room are the remains of a large idol, tumbled and smashed beyond recognition. Only the feet remain intact. The rubble spreads around over a fifteen by ten foot area. There are two columns of beautiful marble pillars along the length of the room, near the walls. 

By the statue, another brazier with purple flame is set up, and there are seven rat men standing around it. One is pouring sand from a bag into the brazier, and it appears that this is what burns with such bright color. 

“Ratmen!” cries Chuck, drawing his long sword and stepping into the room, at the edge the ledge.  

Thus alerted, the ratmen turn toward us. Like the ones we encountered above, they are strange and misshapen. One has a horse leg growing out of its chest, while a second has a weird squid tentacle. Vestigial bat wings grow from the back of a third, and another has a large crab-like claw for an extra arm. Extra tails, arms, and legs adorn the others.

Goldpetal and Novalia are the first to react, stepping into the room, him on the left and her on the right. They fire their bows almost in unison, at the closest rat man. Goldpetal’s shot misses, but Novalia flies true, and she draws first blood. Telryn steps up into the doorway in the center, and looses his crossbow bolt. It caroms harmlessly off the altar.

The ratmen closest to us begin charging towards us, but the three in the back start making a weird wriggling motion. Tiny ratman homunculi begin to claw their way out of their flesh, and are quickly standing beside their progenitor. We all watch, bordering between fascinated and horrified. “That’s the most disgusting thing I've ever seen,” Chuck gasps.

Then the four that charged at us are upon us. The first two claw at Novalia, and one of them wounds her. The third to arrive has a horse leg coming out of its chest. He kicks at the archer, but she leaps back out of the way. It looks like he could kill with a single blow: the leg is powerful but ponderous. The fourth one, with Novalia’s arrow still in its side, attacks Goldpetal, but the elf dodges his claws.

Still powered by the _bull's strength_, Paks steps to the front center and attacks the one with the horse hoof. Her longsword catches it deep in the neck, killing it instantly. Chuck steps to her left, between her and Goldpetal, and attacks the injured rat man. He cuts it across the rib cage, but just as he does, he screams in pain. He hasn’t been hit, but he clutches his left arm to his ribs, right where he wounded the rat.

Hands of Fire steps into the room, stepping past Novalia towards the far right of our line. One of the ratmen claws at the lizard man as he moves through, and rakes him brutally. The blow knocks the great warrior off the narrow ledge, and he falls to the floor of the room. He is unconscious, not moving. 

Miriel steps to the doorway of the corridor. From there, she can’t see that Hands of Fire is injured, with her view blocked by the battle and the edge of the short ledge. Instead she asks Madriel to _bless_ everyone. Beside her, Telryn begins mumbling a spell.

On the left side, Chuck’s snake bites at the injured rat man. It glances down in time to notice, and dodges, but Goldpetal takes advantage of the momentary distraction. The elf’s scimitar slices the ratman from armpit to armpit. Its eyes glaze over, and it falls over backward. 

Telryn completes the spell and unleashes a _magic missile_ at one of the rat men in back. The magical cyan bolts strike it in the head, and it falls over, apparently dead. The other two are lumbering towards us with their homunculi, and mere seconds away from reinforcing their comrades. However, behind them, the mage sees the third homunculus return to the corpse. The strange, small figure climbs back into the body, and the “dead” ratman comes alive. It shakes its head as though disoriented, and then climbs to its feet. 

On the far right, Novalia is in desperate straits. One of the ratmen has climbed up onto the ledge, cutting her off from Paks and the others. The archer drops her bow and tries to stab the ratmen with an arrow, but they have better range. When she hits the one the ledge, she barely scratches it. In return, it swipes at her, and lands a solid blow to the side of her head. As she falls, unconscious, the other one next to her wraps its squid tentacle around her. It has no trouble grabbing her limp form. 

Paks yells, “Miriel! Hands of Fire is in really bad shape!” Just as she finishes, the two rat men from the back reach us. One charges Paks, with its homunculus just behind. Both have a scorpion tail, a crab claw, and an extra rat tail. His homunculus, identical, leaps forward and tries to claw Paks, but she blocks it with her shield. That leaves an opening for the larger one’s crab claw, and it pinches her leg.

The second rat man and its homunculus charge Chuck. They both hit him, knocking him backwards. He is badly wounded, bleeding from numerous places. He backs into the doorway, fumbling for his piece of bread, while his viper attacks the homunculus. The brave little snake scores a hit. As the Vigilant eats his bread and feels the healing power course through him, he hears Miriel shouting, “Chuck, move out of the way so I can get to Novalia and Hands of Fire!”

On the left side, we’ve been holding our own, but on the right, nobody can make enough progress to reach the wounded lizard man. The ratman holding Novalia tosses her aside. Her body lands, like a rag doll, on top of Hands of Fire. Their blood pools together beneath them.

Paks thrusts her sword at the crab-clawed ratman. The sword penetrates deep into its breast, and it slumps to the ground. She feels a deep piercing in her own chest, as its agony reflects back onto her. 

To the left, Goldpetal attacks the homunculus in front of him, spawned from the ratman attacking Chuck. He misses, but Telryn casts a _magic missile_ at its progenitor. The ratman looks badly wounded. Its homunculus climbs back into it, and the ratman claws at the snake. It misses.

The squid-tentacled ratman steps forward from the right side into the gap in our line, and attacks Chuck. It claws him across the face, but its tentacle gets caught on Paks’ shield, to Chuck’s right, and that throws the ratman off balance.

The other one which had been attacking Novalia rushes around to our left and attacks Goldpetal. It leaps with its full weight on him, clawing him, and biting deep into his shoulder. The frail elf screams and collapses beneath it, unconscious. 

The final homunculus leaps back into the crab-clawed ratman, the one which Paks had killed. As we had seen before, the return of the homunculus reanimates it, and it staggers to its feet, trying to escape her reach. The last ratman, from the back, finally reaches the skirmish, and charges to its rescue. It rakes Paks with its claws, but she shoulders it aside, using the Bull’s Strength. She steps over to the right, and with a solid blow of her sword, she kills the crab-clawed one a second time. She can hear Telryn chanting another incantation behind her.

Chuck swings sword and dagger wildly at the ratman on top of Goldpetal, trying to drive it back from Goldpetal’s body. He misses, but forces the ratman to retreat, buying Miriel space to treat the stricken elf. Miriel leaps to Goldpetal’s side, and begins bandaging his bleeding shoulder. 

Telryn casts _color spray_, and a rainbow of blinding brilliance bursts from his fingertips. It stuns three of the ratmen, knocking them unconscious, and leaving only one standing. 

The surviving rat man rushes towards the mage, leaping over the snake. It flaps its vestigial bat wing to help it glide the short distance, and claws Telryn as he desperately tries to reload his crossbow. The ratman’s teeth fill the young mage’s view as it tries to bite him, then Paks lops off its head, and it falls at her feet. 

Miriel and Paks rush towards Novalia and Hands of Fire. Miriel bandages Novalia, who is pale but breathing, while Paks ministers to Hands of Fire. 

She looks up with shock on her face. “He’s dead,” she says.



Stunned silence follows her words, and then Miriel steps to his body. She checks for a pulse, but a sad shake of her head confirms the announcement. The great lizard warrior has passed to another place.

While Paks sits in stunned silence, Chuck and Telryn administer the coup de grace to the remaining ratmen. Telryn shoots one with his crossbow, while Chuck slits throats of the other two.  Then, the process of administering healing begins in earnest. Miriel prays for Madriel’s healing upon the unconscious Goldpetal and Novalia. When they are conscious, the archer eats her chunk of the _bread of life_. Miriel gives Goldpetal her last chunk of bread, which the elf also eats. Telryn and Chuck both follow suit.

Paks sighs, and gets to her feet. She places the newly forged morningstar across Hands of Fire’s chest, and closes his eyes. She leaves him everything he has carried with him, but does take his slice of the _bread of life_. She utters a brief prayer to Madriel, and a brief promise.

The rest of us search the room quickly, but don’t find anything save the rubble and a lot of dust until Chuck looks behind the statue. “Guys, over here,” he calls. We walk over, and see a spiral stone staircase continuing down.

“I don’t think we can go on,” Miriel says. “I think we should rest here.”

Novalia argues, “There’s probably another ritual going on.”

“We must stop it,” Goldpetal declares firmly. “There is no time to rest.”

As though to make the druid’s point, an unearthly scream of pain echoes up from the earth. Without further discussion, Novalia runs for the staircase, followed by Goldpetal, then everyone else, with Miriel reluctantly bringing up the rear. 

We run sixty feet down the spiraling stairs, which describe a slow turn of about 180 degrees to the right. At the bottom we see a hall very similar to the one we just left. We’re entering from the opposite side this time. The marble walling this room is an unsettling deep blood red, and two braziers akin to the ones above bathe the room in a disturbing flickering purple light. A wide chasm runs through the center of the room, but it passes to the right of the altar, which is not cracked. At the far side, there’s a tall statue of a hideous being, perhaps 30’ tall. The crack runs through it. The wall behind the idol looks shadowy and insubstantial. We can see shadowy tentacles which appear to be seeking a way through it.

What truly grabs our attention, however, is the angel bound to the cold altar. It is nearly fifteen feet tale, and is manacled, spread-eagled upon the massive stone slab. Standing around it are five Stricken led by a fearsome shaman. The shaman has two heads and two tentacles on either side, in addition to its arms, and a scorpion stinger. The angelic creature is being ritually tortured. Blasphemous runes have been carved into its flesh, and a pattern carved into the altar is filling with its glowing blood. The ratmen have removed the angel’s right eye and are in the process of sawing off its left wing. 

Miriel and Goldpetal both look shocked. 

“That’s a Hope!” the priestess cries, recognizing the angel as one of the celestial beings consecrated to Madriel, and she is alternately horrified and saddened at the blasphemous things which have been done to it. 

The druid, however, is gaping at the tentacles which are beginning to come through the far wall. He whispers a single name, in mortal terror:

“Gormoth!”

.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Awesome, you are really making up for lost time.  All their plans are put aside to fight the next bit of villainy, I like it.

GW


----------



## Fulcan

To date, this adventure is the favorite for most of us.  The pure evil of the setup, and the dastardlyness of our DM made it really fun to play.  We were on pins and needles the entire time.

(And Telryn has since promised not to pull any levers.  Although, he has found that's not the only way to get into trouble with traps).


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #16: The Shrine of Gormoth - Episode 5 of 5*

Paks doesn’t hesitate. Having taken the stairs two at a time, she bursts past Novalia as the archer draws her bow. The warrior charges across the room, to the right side of the altar. As she enters the room, she is struck as though by a blow with a force of pain. Somehow, she knows that she feels the angel’s pain echoing down upon her. Realizing that she is not injured, she focuses her will and attacks the nearest rat man. She reaches it so quickly that she catches it flat-footed, and scores a deep cut across its deformed back.

Miriel takes Madriel’s Tear out of her pouch, and rushes into the room with the artifact held aloft in her right hand, and her spear held in the other. She is surprised to find that the Tear is extremely hot, and the pain of holding it focuses her through the Hope’s pain as well. The Tear glows with a bright white light, which casts a pure healthy illumination across the scene. 

At the doorway, Goldpetal, Telryn, Novalia, and Chuck step into the room, with bows and crossbows drawn. As they enter the room, each can feel that the room itself is amplifying the pain of the angelic being. It takes a force of will for each of them to draw their bow, even to stay on their feet, and Chuck’s viper is knocked unconscious by the pain. Goldpetal is the first to succeed, but his shot misses. Telryn shoots a rat man on the left side of the altar, hitting it. Chuck’s arrow flies at the shaman, wounding it in the shoulder.

Novalia, however, has a different idea. She aims her two arrows at the Hope! One hits, and each of us hear its scream, telepathically echoing through our heads. The arrow is slowly pushed out of the Hope’s body, and the true horror of its position becomes clear: though helpless and badly injured, its natural healing properties regenerate its wounds, keeping it on the verge of death, but never able to take that final escape. 

The tentacles piercing the rear wall are reaching fully five feet into the room now, and we can see a great shape looming in the misty darkness beyond the wall. Time is clearly running out, and whatever horror waits in the shadows is nearly upon us.

Paks rushes forward, ignoring the other ratmen to reach the shaman. She hits it, cutting a deep gash into one of its arms. We hear a golden voice in our heads, which we can only assume is the Hope. Questioning wonder suffuses its thought: *The Knight of the Swan, here?*

As Miriel reaches the altar, the Tear gives off a burst of impossibly bright light. It is the brightest light any of us have ever seen, like a beam directly from the Sun. Four of the ratmen die immediately, and the shaman and the last surviving ratman are blinded. Even as it injures our enemy, the light heals us all. We are all fully healed and divinely inspired. Better yet, the tentacles recoil, smoking as though burned. They retreat into the back wall, which seems somehow more solid and substantial. The oppressive sense of dread lifts, and those of us aligned with Good feel a sense of joy and wonder. 

In the aftermath, the pain has lifted, though many of the grievous wounds on the angel’s body have not been healed. The telepathic voice is filled with thanks and gratitude. *Madriel’s Tear! Thank the Goddess!*

The entire shrine begins to shake around us. The shaman turns its frightening aspect on Paks, beginning to chant a spell. Both blinded heads cast about as though looking for her. It completes the spell, and an evil-looking dark nimbus surrounds its right tentacle. It gropes for her, trying to touch her, but she steps around it, to the right. She slashes at it, and cuts off its left arm. That barely seems to slow the shaman. The remaining rat man moves towards the shaman and tries to attack Paks, but it can’t see her, either, and she sidesteps it easily. 

Goldpetal was both blinded and healed by the Tear. Unable to see, he slowly backs up to the wall, away from the edge. He has his bow out and knocked, but he cannot see to fire, and does not remember whether the door is to his right, or to his left.

Telryn casts a _magic missile_ at the shaman. The cyan bolts further wound the fearsome monstrosity. Chuck advances into the room, firing his bow as he moves. He misses twice, his arrows whistling past the shaman to shatter against the idol behind it. 

The whole room is shaking violently now, and rocks begin to fall from the ceiling as Paks continues to circle around the shaman, trying to pin it against the altar. The chasm looms behind her, just a step to the left of the shaman if it should misstep. She sees an opening, and with a mighty swing chops off its right head. Before she can press the advantage, she is struck and knocked to one knee, stunned by a falling rock.  

Novalia rushes across the room to join Miriel at the altar. The priestess is examining the bonds holding the Hope. Huge metal bracelets encircle each arm and leg, covered with blasphemous runes and chained to the altar. 

Miriel touches Madriel’s Tear to one of the armbands, hoping to sear the evil bonds, but the Tear is already cooling, and its touch has no effect. *They are adamantium*, the Hope tells us, its telepathic voice an echo of beauty in this place of despair, *and consecrated to Gormoth. You have not the powers to free me.*

With Paks stunned by the rock, the shaman rushes her. With the warrior nearly helpless, he makes numerous attacks. He again tries to touch her with the dark nimbus, but misses cleanly. His other claws scrabble at her armor, unable to break through her chain mail. His scorpion stinger bounces harmlessly off of her shield. He tries to bite her, but she is able to push him away. The only thing which he succeeds with is latching the other tentacle to her back. 

At the doorway to the room, Goldpetal is hit by a rock. He drops a sling bullet over the edge of the ledge, trying to figure out where he is in the room. Telryn rushes into the room, moving towards the altar, but he too is hit by a rock.

The other rat man is hit with a rock, and knocked off balance. He pitches forward, into the chasm. His scream lasts for many seconds as he falls. Novalia looks up just in time to see this, and is inspired.

She turns, and rushes at the shaman. Before she can reach him, the enchanted tentacle catches her on the shoulder, and with a dark burst, magical energy rips into her body. Her momentum carries her on, and she lowers her shoulder into him. He staggers back underneath her bullrush, and one foot tries to plant over the edge of the chasm. It finds nothing but air, and Novalia quickly pushes him the rest of the way over the edge. For a moment, his other tentacle threatens to pull Paks over the precipice as well, but then it looses its grip, and we can hear his scream fade into the depths as he falls.

The ratmen are dead, but the danger continues. *Leave me*, the Hope commands. *This cursed place is collapsing. Leave the Tear here and save yourselves.* 

Paks ignores the instructions. As she rushes to the Hope’s side, she yells, “Telryn! Try the acid!” She lays on hands on the Hope, and prays for Madriel to heal the wounds it has been deal. There is no effect.

The Hope’s voice echoes telepathically in our heads. *Your powers of healing have no effect here, child. Leave the Tear and go.*

Miriel places the Tear upon the Hope’s breast, and meets its eyes for one last moment, as though to remember its beauty for a lifetime. Then she turns, and runs for the door.

“Everyone, follow me!” she yells. When she reaches the ledge, she grabs Goldpetal’s hand, and leads the blinded elf to the stairwell. 

Telryn draws one of the vials of acid out of his pack, but before he can unstopper it, he is hit by a falling rock. This changes his mind for him, and he bolts out of the room and begins up the stairs. Novalia casts a quick enchantment on herself, _expeditious retreat_, which allows her to run much faster than the others. She sprints up the stairs, catching Telryn. “Give me the vial!” she yells, and he does so. Chuck runs out of the room, leaving Paks alone with the Hope.

Paks fumbles frantically in her pack, looking for something. *Wait, Paks*, the Hope’s voice echoes in her head alone, *Wait. Every generation, Madriel picks a Swan Knight, a champion... You are being tested... The Serpent Amphora, it’s been found... the Dar-al-Annot must not recover it... Protect it at all costs. You must leave and protect the Serpent Amphora. * 

Paks has tears running down her face. She pulls two vials of holy water out of her pack. She pours one over the angel’s wounds, and the other over the bonds, but neither has any effect. 

*Leave now, child*, the Hope’s telepathic voice gently commands her. *Madriel has other plans for you.*

As Paks begins to stagger back towards the entrance, half-blinded by the tears in her eyes and choking back sobs, Novalia flashes back into the room. In a moment, she reaches the altar. She holds the unstoppered vial of acid out, and pours the acid on the bonds. The bonds flash and smoke, but don’t appear to be eaten away by the acid. 

The Hope’s voice becomes almost frantic. *No, you fools, no! There’s no way to free me! Go!*



Up ahead, Miriel and Goldpetal run up the stairs. When Miriel is hit by a rock, Goldpetal takes the lead. He is starting to recover his vision, but there is a great after-image etched on his eyes which makes it tough to see. He leads everyone across the upstairs room. Behind him, Miriel, Telryn, and Chuck follow. Chuck is hit by a falling rock, and staggers, falling a ways behind Telryn. 

Below, Paks reaches the stairway up towards the upstairs room. She, too, is hit by a rock partway up the stairs. Novalia is the last to leave the Hope’s side, but she quickly begins catching Paks, as the spell gives her a fleetness no mortal could achieve without aid.

As Goldpetal reaches the ramp and passes the lever, he is hit by a rock. Behind him, Miriel is hit by another rock, halfway across the upstairs room. Telryn is hit by a rock, and knocked unconscious. Chuck runs past him, and he, too, is hit by a rock while running across the room.

When Paks reaches Telryn, she leans over him with her shield above her head, trying to protect him from the falling rocks. She is hit by one, but immediately eats her _bread of life_, healing the worst of her injuries. Just as she does, Novalia rushes in and heals Telryn. He wakes up, groggy, as another rock bounces off of Paks’ back. It would have hit him. “Leave him,” Novalia yells to Paks. “Go!”

Above them, Goldpetal steps on the first of the plates that shift. The fire jet shoots out in front of him, but he is just able to stop himself, and lurches back. It misses him. Chuck, in an all-out sprint, has passed Miriel, who was hit by another rock, and reaches Goldpetal. 

In the room below them, Paks picks Telryn up and staggers to the end of the room with him, trying to keep her shield over his head. Telryn digs in her pack, and finds Paks’ other chunk of bread, once Hands of Fire’s, and eats it as she carries him. When he is healed, he leaps down off of her shoulder. Novalia rushes past them.

Goldpetal, still in the lead, triggers the metal spikes from the floor. He is lucky, however, and the spikes come up on either side of him. Chuck and Miriel work their way slowly through the spikes. Novalia, with the speed of her spell, reaches them, winding lithely through the spikes, and passing everyone to take the lead.

Below, Paks is struggling. She is hit by a rock as she moves into the sloping corridor. She tries to lay hands on herself and Telryn, “Madriel, heal us!” she calls to the deity, but Telryn dodges her hand. She heals only herself. “Somebody, drop your bread!” she yells, unsure if anybody else can hear her.

In the corridor, Goldpetal yells, “Novalia, is anyone behind us injured?” Before she can answer Goldpetal’s question, Novalia is hit by a rock. She collapses to the ground. 

Miriel, too, is struck by another rock, but remains on her feet. She calls Madriel’s healing, slowing just enough to cast the spell as she continues on. Goldpetal is also hit by a rock, but he summons Denev’s healing upon himself. Chuck, too, is hit by a rock, but runs on. He passes Novalia to become the leader. At the side of the corridor, he sees the blade sticking out of the wall. He thinks it was probably triggered by a falling rock.

Paks and Telryn run for their lives, trying to gather as much protection as they can from her shield, held above their heads. Despite her efforts, Telryn is hit by a falling rock.

Miriel and Goldpetal reach Novalia. As Miriel kneels beside her to bandage her, the priestess is hit by another rock. Miriel quickly bandages Novalia, and Goldpetal mumbles a druidic chant, which heals the archer and restores her to consciousness. 

Telryn dodges the rocks and runs up to the spikes, just ahead of Paks. They can see Miriel, Goldpetal, and Novalia just ahead of them. Novalia is just staggering to her feet. The young mage telepathically calls to his owl, “Chester! Get off the stones and into the air!”

An ironic laugh returns to him. “Way ahead of you, boss. Those stones fell down about a minute ago.”

“Chester! Next time, warn me about something like that!”

Chuck is struck by another rock, but he sees the pit, ahead, in the floor. He leaps over it. Behind him, Novalia also leaps over the pit. She rushes past him, and reaches the last set of spikes. Goldpetal is third, hit by another rock, and Miriel is just behind him. Above them, Novalia wriggles through the last set of spikes, and climbs the stairs. She is the first to reach the open night sky. 

Chuck works his way through the spikes, several seconds behind her, but then he, too climbs the stairs and bursts out into the night. Behind him, Goldpetal shrugs off another rock and leaps over the pit, and begins to twist his way through the spikes. Miriel is struck again as she reaches the edge of the pit. She sidles past the edge of the pit, and she enters the spikes just as the elf reaches the stairs.

Deep below, Telryn and Paks are in dire straits. Telryn is hit by another rock, but staggers on. Paks is struck by a rock as well, despite her shield. She takes a moment to pray, asking Madriel for _protection from evil_, falling a little ways behind the mage. She looks up just in time to see him get hit by a rock and fall unconscious.

The tremors are worsening, and cracks begin to run along the ceiling. Her muscles still bulging from the _bull’s strength_, Paks lifts up Telryn’s limp form and carries him along the twisting corridor. They are only at the sword-trap, a long way from the stairs, and none of the company is still in sight. “Madriel, protect us!” she cries, but her words are drowned out by the deep rumbling of the earth.



Outside, all of the standing stones have fallen over. Novalia and Chuck run to the bottom of the hill, where we had tied the horses, and begin to untie them. Atop the hill, Goldpetal attempts to consecrate the ground around him to Denev. It is shaking too hard for him to complete the ritual: it takes all of his concentration just to remain on his feet. 

Miriel, too, has reached the outside, where a quick head count tells her that there are two still below. She prays to her goddess for their protection; beside her, Goldpetal, too, asks Denev to see them safely out.

Two long minutes pass, and there is still no sign of them. The hill is beginning to crumble in upon itself, and the hopes of those atop the hill fade to despair.


----------



## Amaroq

*Update schedule*

The next issue is one of the longest, with a lot of character-building scenes; I'll probably post it as 10-12 episodes over the next two weeks, since its a bit much for the standard 5-episode format previously utilized. I'm not going to get much more in before Thanksgiving, but I'll try to get the first two episodes out before then.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #17: Interludes and Intermissions - Episode 1 of 13*

12th of April, 2003​Issue #17

*Interludes and Initiations*​


_Just after sunset, a blind old ratman approached Kratys Freehold. He exuded an aura which prevented most of the guards from drawing their bows to fire at him, and when Taryn Kratys shot at him, he knocked the arrow from the air. Beneath his cloak, his fur was mottled black and white. He warned us that followers of Gormoth were enacting evil rituals at the standing stones, covered his head with his hood, and strode quickly off into the gloom of twilight.

Chuck fired one last arrow at him, and the ratman casually batted the arrow out of mid-air. “No way!” Stone yelled, with feeling. The half-orc monk leapt off the parapet, breaking his fall by tumbling with the landing. “I’ll take care of the blind one,” he yelled up to the rest of us. “You guys take care of the ritual!” And with that, he chased the blind rat man, while the rest of us traveled to the standing stones.

There, we discovered a group of strange, misshapen ratmen, followers of Gormoth, and a shrine to that Titan. The ratmen had captured a Hope, one of Madriel’s angels, and were torturing it to try to bring Gormoth back. Using Madriel’s Tear, we were able to kill the shaman, stop the ritual, and destroy the shrine, but the powers unleashed have caused a great earthquake, and Paks and Telryn have not made it out._

It is the night of Belsaday, the seventh day of Madrer. 

Stone chases the blind rat man, but he is slowly losing ground. The gathering darkness makes it difficult to see his quarry. Though the half-orc has always been fastest in races and running, this blind old ratman is outdistancing him. He yells, “Hey! Stop!” but there is no effect. Finally, he stumbles over something, and when he tumbles and rolls to his feet, the ratman is nowhere to be seen.

However, the path he has taken is clear. He finds that it isn’t very difficult to follow the ancient ratman. In fact, it almost seems as if the signs he is following were being left for him intentionally. He continues to run, a loping gait which his half-orcish muscles can maintain for hours.

After more than an hour’s run, the trail leads to a clearing.

In the center of the clearing stands the rat man, hooded and leaning on his staff. He is bathed in the baleful reddish light of the Nameless Orb, the second moon. The monks of Hedrada have taught the half-orc to ignore the moon, but Goldpetal’s dire warning that it is a bad omen echoes in his mind.

Stone steps into the clearing, and bows to the ratman. “Venerable master,” he calls. “I request teaching.”

The ratman speaks in a low voice, with a hissing, whistling accent. It sounds as though it is a labor for him to speak in the human tongue. “Why seek you to follow me?”

Stone stands before the ratman. “I believe we are following the same path,” he answers, resolutely.

The ratman crooks one finger before him. “You think you are initiated in The Way,” he says, then shakes his head and wags the crooked finger side to side. “But yours is not The Way.”

“Then we must settle this now,” the monk retorts.

“Happy will I be to teach you The True Way,” the ratman tells him.

Stone takes off his shirt and stretches a bit. The ratman pulls back his hood, and takes off his cloak. His fur is mottled black and white, and he has no eyes at all. His eye sockets are empty. He starts whirling his staff in a tight, precise form. 

Stone looks around for a staff of his own, but there do not seem to be any branches of useful size.

The ratman begins to intone, as though speaking a ritual, or a prophecy. “Golthain’s Way is the True Way. Only He showed The Way. For this He suffered. For this He is gone. Other ways are false, mockeries of Golthain.” 

Stone stands up, and responds firmly. “Hedrada shows the rightful path. His Ways supplant the ancient Ways.” 

The ratman answers loudly, but without rancor. “The way of Hedrada is not The Way. His laws, the laws of a betrayer are. His judgments, from a kin-slayer, from a patricide. This will I prove to you!” He casts his staff aside, to meet Stone unarmed, as the half-orc is. Stone adopts a defensive stance, and they begin to advance towards each other.

Stone swings first, as they reach his range, but the ratman dodges his blows, as though he can see them coming. The rat man retaliates with a rapid onslaught of blows. Stone dodges a kick, but two punches land, and the young half-orc reels backwards. With a spin, the ratman tries to bring his tail down in a heavy slam, but Stone is able to step back out of the way.

Stone circles around to his right, looking for an opening. He tries to strike with the flurry of rapid punches which has served him so well before, but the ratman dodges easily.  

“Old man, you are spry!” he exclaims with respect.

“Your very body betrays you!” the ratman answers. “Tells me what you do, your body does, even before you know. This is The Way of Golthain!” 

The ratman whips his tail around at Stone’s feet, and trips him. Stone tries to roll out of it, but the ratman leaps where he is trying to roll to and hits him with two more punches, hard blows which knock the wind from Stone’s lungs. 

The ratman steps back. He isn’t even breathing hard. “Yield, do you?” he asks, as he allows Stone to stand up.

Blood trickles from Stone’s lip, where one of the first punches landed, and he feels dizzy. He can’t draw enough breath to answer. He shakes his head determinedly, and steps to attack again.

He feints with a kick, and as the ratman dodges that, Stone catches him with a fist, a decent blow across the muzzle. When he tries to follow up, however, the ratman has stepped sideways, out of reach.

“Admirable, is your discipline,” the ratman tells him. “Well have your masters taught you. Discipline is not enough, however!”

They face each other again, and this time the ratman leaps forward to the attack. His limbs move faster than the dizzied half-orc can follow, and numerous blows land. He falls to his knees, where he hears the ratman say, “Meet again shall we.” The last thing he sees is a roundhouse kick flashing towards his skull.

Darkness overcomes him.



While Stone lies, unconscious, in a distant clearing, Paks staggers through a collapsing passageway under the hill of the standing stones, carrying the limp form of Telryn. She is hunched over, with the young mage held in her right arm and her shield held above them both in her left, aided by the _bull’s strength_ spell he had cast on her earlier. A constant stream of prayer escapes her lips, as she begs the Gods to spare them, and gives thanks that the mage is so light.

Larger, heavier rocks are falling, and some are now rolling down the circular rampway. The warrior struggles to keep her balance, dodging the rocks as she works her way steadfastly up hill. 

When she reaches the pit, she slips around it on the narrow ledge to the right side. Rocks of all sizes rain upon her shield, and she is lucky to maintain her balance. None of her companions remain to aid her if she falls. Only the spell’s enchanted strength keeps her shield arm up.

She reaches the final set of spikes, but on the other side, rocks have been piling up. There isn’t room to get past. She begins to pull them out of the way, praying that the cave-in isn’t too deep, and that she can find a way to escape. Again, her magically enhanced strength saves her, and she is able to make a narrow opening that she can push the limp body of the mage through. She has to pause again and widen it to make room for her armor, scraping herself across the rocks as she clambers over them. 

Finally, she reaches the last leg, the staircase. It begins to crumble beneath her, and great cracks opening in the ground beneath her as the very earth swallows the blasphemous horrors below.

At last, she bursts from the hilltop into the night. Miriel and Goldpetal are waiting for her, and leap forward to help her. “My horse!” she calls. Beside her, the altar falls deep into the ground, as the hill begins to collapse. 

“Thank the goddess!” Miriel yells. “Paks, hurry!”  She and the druid help Paks carry Telryn down off of the hill as it begins to collapse beneath them. The earth rumbles beneath their feet, but they successfully make it to the bottom, where they lay Telryn on the ground.

We all turn in time to witness the final moments, as the great hill collapses in upon the shrine beneath it with a deafening roar. The Hope, Madriel’s Tear, and our friend Hands of Fire are all lost forever, and we can only hope that the sacrifice has sealed the hole through which the ratmen were summoning an ancient evil.



Most of the group sit, exhausted, at the bottom of the hill, catching our breath, while Goldpetal and Miriel tend to the wounded. Telryn, still unconscious, is the worst off, but the elf intones a druidic ritual over the young mage, healing the worst of his injuries and bringing him back to consciousness.

Miriel has just enough energy left to heal the worst of Novalia's injuries, but then she is too exhausted to channel her goddess' healing powers any further.  

After the shaking has stopped, and we have healed each other, Goldpetal attempts to consecrate the land to Denev, to finish healing the wounds of the evil ritual we have stopped. 

After several minutes, he turns to us. “I have failed,” he says, sadly. “I lack the strength to heal such a deep wound by myself. I need some time to meditate, to find a way to heal the land.”

“The rest of us need to rest,” Miriel says. Telryn in particular has had a rough night, and we are all bruised and battered to some extent.  

“Why don’t we go to the stand of trees we camped in,” Paks suggest. “It’s maybe a half-hour’s walk away.”

“That works,” Chuck says. 

“Goldpetal, come find us there when you’re done,” Paks tells the elf.

Leaving the elf behind, the rest of us take the horses and ride over to our frequently-used camp site. It is a nice spot, with a shady glen of trees in the day, and a small, fresh stream running nearby. When last we camped, the streambed was dry, but after the recent storm, there is plenty of water now, and the babbling brook provides a soothing background noise.

We rest, some sleeping, and others talking.

“That was the most evil thing I’ve ever seen,” Paks says, shaking her head in awe.

“What were they doing?” asks Chuck.

“They were using the Hope’s pain to raise the Writhing One,” Miriel answers. “Every cut they made, the Hope would feel pain, but its regenerative powers would heal the wound. They could keep it in constant pain, without ever killing it. The shrine reflected the Hope’s pain back in on itself, taking its agony to a level so pure, so awful, that it could break the barrier between our world and the other planes, allowing the Nameless One to return.

“Thank Madriel that we had Her Tear, for that was all that could have saved us,” she says reverently. “Such evil is far beyond anything I’ve heard of, this side of legend.”

We sit in awed silence, each contemplating what had happened in that awful shrine in our own way.

After several minutes, Miriel shakes her head. “I’m going to sleep,” she says.

“I’ll stand watch,” Chuck volunteers.

“Me too,” says Novalia. “I can’t sleep, after that.” 

As she sets out her bedroll, Miriel notices a sharp pain from the palm of her right hand when she grabs hold of the blanket. When she looks at it, she sees that she has a teardrop-shaped burn in her palm where she held Madriel’s Tear.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #17 - Interludes and Intermissions - Episode 2 of 13*

Dawn breaks on the morning of Vanday. It is the eighth day of Madrer, Madriel’s month.

Miriel wakes first, and slips quietly out of camp to conduct her dawn rites. When she returns, she finds that Chuck has fallen asleep, but Novalia is starting a fire for breakfast.

Letting Chuck sleep, Miriel wakes Paks and Telryn to check over their injuries. They were the last ones to escape the shrine, with Paks literally carrying Telryn the final four hundred feet, as rocks fell from the ceiling, battering them both. Paks has two cracked ribs, and Telryn’s left wrist is broken. 

Miriel prays Madriel’s healing for both of them, and although she cannot heal everything, she can feel that the broken bones have knit, and the worst of the bruises have lessened.

Miriel then turns to the cooking fire, and works on breakfast. Chuck wakes at the smell of fresh-cooked food, and just as she passes out the meal, Goldpetal walks into the camp.

“Food?” the priestess asks the druid.

“Thank you,” he responds, taking a plate and sitting down to eat.

We all wait in respectful silence, eating our own meal, but we are all wondering what he has learned. Finally, Chuck’s curiosity gets the better of him. “Well?” he asks.

Goldpetal calmly finishes his plate, saying nothing. Chuck looks exasperated, while Novalia and Paks attempt to look respectful. Only Miriel appears patient. Finally, when he has finished the meal, the elf speaks.

“I meditated through the dawn,” he tells us. “And when the light of the sun reached me, a plan was planted in my head by Denev. It is a ritual I have never attempted. It may take all day. I suggest you return to the Freehold, and I will meet you there.”

“I will stay,” Paks says. “My sword will protect you from impolite interruptions.”

“Thank you,” the elf says, gravely.

“May I offer a blessing?” she asks.

“I appreciate the offer,” the elf answers as he stands up, “But I must decline. In this, Denev must act alone.”

Paks and the elf begin walking back towards the hill. The rest of us quickly discuss whether to stay, or to go.

Telryn doesn’t look well at all. “I need to sleep,” he says.

“And I,” says Miriel. “I’m too exhausted to concentrate on a spell. I’ll go back to Kratys Freehold with you.”

Chuck says, “I’ll stay here, and protect Goldpetal.”

Novalia decides, “Then I’ll go with Miriel and Telryn, to protect them.”

They split up the horses: Miriel, Telryn, and Novalia ride back towards Kratys Freehold, while Chuck leads the other three horses after Paks and Goldpetal.



As she rides with them, Novalia notices that both Miriel and Telryn are extremely cold to her, as though she has committed a grievous sin. Though they speak to each other, neither speaks to her, conversationally or otherwise. She rides with them in an uncomfortable silence, keeping her bow out and watching for trouble.

The trip would normally take about five hours of riding, but Telryn needs to stop frequently to rest along the way. Despite Madriel’s healing, he is still battered and bruised. Consequently, the small group doesn’t arrive until the early afternoon.

When the three riders arrive at Kratys Freehold, they are greeted at the walls by the guard, and escorted inside. In the main hall, they find Myrs tending Stone’s injuries. The half-orc has a black eye, a number of other bruises, and one lip is puffed and swollen. It makes his already pugnacious appearance even more frightening.

He looks up. “Where are Goldpetal, Paks, Chuck, and Hands of Fire?” he asks, when it becomes clear that nobody else is following them into the hall.

“Yes,” Taryn says, “Tell us your tale.”

Miriel draws a sad breath, and asks for privacy. When the company is reduced to Taryn, Myrs, Stone, Telryn, Novalia, and herself, she tells the whole story. Our hosts are shocked, disgusted, and outraged by the depths of evil revealed in the plot.

When she has finished, Stone shakes his head. “My tale is not so epic,” he admits, and relates his pursuit of Golthain’s monk. He finishes by describing the ratman’s last words to him. “When I came to, it was dawn. The only tracks in the clearing were mine, entering, as though he were a phantom. So I came back.”

Myrs says, “We have had trouble here as well. Miriel, will you help us? Brand has come ill. He has a high fever, and his skin is covered with red dots. We fear it is from working on that cursed blade.”

“Scarlet Pox?” asks the priestess. 

“I fear so. He’s burning up!”

Miriel nods. “Keep cold compresses on him,” she advises, “The fever is the worst danger. I am too exhausted by our ordeal to cure his illness immediately. Let me rest, and meditate, and I will see what I can do in the evening.”

“Thank you, milady,” Myrs says, bowing her head.

“Miriel,” the priestess corrects her automatically. “We’re all friends, here.”

Miriel goes upstairs, to a private room, to meditate for a couple of hours. While she meditates, Novalia and Telryn find other rooms, to sleep in. Stone is too beaten up to help around the Freehold, but he goes to stand a vigil from the top of the roof of the dining hall, watching east to see if he can spot his friends returning.

Miriel meditates, uninterrupted. When she comes out of the meditative state, she spots a white dove sitting on the windowsill. She watches it quietly, without moving, and it hops on her shoulder. She sees that it has a note attached to its foot. She slowly reaches one hand towards it, and picks it up. She can feel its tiny heart beating rapidly under her fingertips, but it doesn’t struggle. She carefully removes the note, and then releases the dove. With a flutter of wings, the white bird flies out through the open window.

She unrolls note and reads it, her eyes betraying no emotion as she considers its words. _“The prophecy has been fulfilled. More has been revealed. Come see me. – Verenia.”_


----------



## Fergus

*Finally, he speaks...*

Hi all,

So, I think that it's time for me to make my debut...  I'm the ex-player of Fergus, Milo, Novalia, and a character yet to be revealed.  I've been lurking on this storyline for a long time and decided to respond to a few posts, however old they might be.



> You've also reminded me how annoying Fergus was! It was like playing with Noam Chomsky: "The ratmen are obviously just oppressed peasants who live in a resource poor environment. It makes perfect rational sense that they raid the Veshian lands for resources. Desperate people do desperate things; it doesn't make them evil. The Ratmen are thinking, obviously sentient creatures, with a language and a culture of their own, yet the Veshians send out proxy 'adventurers' to ethnically cleanse the vilified 'beast-men'. Is this any different from a government organized pogrom?"




For the record, Fergus never said anything like this.  He wasn't remotely this academic.  I somewhat resent the characterization.



> I kept wanting to shake him and say: "Dude, they are ratmen and they want to torture and eat you and resurrect their evil god of pestilence and vermin! What more do you need!"




I don't believe that Fergus ever faced any ratmen in any of our sessions.



> Each session I tried to make the goblins and ratmen more and more evil so there wouldn't be this constant argument about leaving the ratmen alone. Drug and poison smuggling, slavery, kidnapping: he had a answer for everything! I couldn't believe that he walked out instead of rescuing a young boy being offered as a sacrifice to a giant spider!




I'd like to point out that making the enemies "more and more evil" isn't going to work for a character clinging desperately to a Lawful Neutral alignment because that's the only way he knows to make sense of the world.

Fergus left the party before it was made clear that the young boy was being sacrificed to the giant spider.  The telling of how Fergus left the party at the bottom of Issue 3, Episodes 8, 9, and 10 (sic), isn't how I remember it.  I remember there being much more discussion along the lines of "we should kill the spider goblins because they are evil/unnatural and they obviously took the kid" vs. "we don't know for sure that they took the kid and we shouldn't kill them if they didn't."  Fergus would have been amenable to "Okay, look, the only tracks we found where the boy was taken were spider goblin tracks, they've led us here, let's look around and see if we can find the boy" and wouldn't have walked out if someone had made that point.



> Oh well. He might make a good NPC one day. Reading this again, I realize that you guys did a pretty good job in avoiding slaughtering the goblins out of hand. Morally, you guys acted better than Fergus did! I should have given you more xps for avoiding the combat.




Morality is relative to different alignments, hence having characters with different alignments.  *smile*

Reading through Issue 3, Episodes 11 and 12 (sic), and my own recollection for the encounter the players would have slaughtered virtually all of the spider goblins if (a) they'd been rolling a bit better and (b) the shaman didn't take the initiative to open a dialogue.  As it was they kept on attacking the spider goblins while conducting negotiations to get the boy, something I'd hardly qualify as honorable or moral.  I have no idea where the comment of "I should have given you more xps for avoiding the combat" is coming from given the amount of combat there was.  If anything the DM was the one who avoided combat, not the players.



> Did you guys continue to game with Noam "Fergus" Chomsky? It doesn't seem like Fergus really fits with the rest of the party.




Yes, but under different characters.  One of the reasons I decided to have Fergus leave was because it was incredibly clear that I needed a different character to work with this party.



> You don't really get it from this narrative, but he really caused a lot of party dissention, and slowed the game down. The player came back with 2 other characters, neither of which worked all that great, and then gave up the game. He didn't play well with others...




Actually, I think that the party dissention comes off quite a bit in the narrative.  *grin*

I actually came back with three other characters, not two.  I don't feel like I gave up on the game so much as I was starting my first year as a high school teacher and didn't want very many (possibly any!) big weekend committments as I was feeling overworked and overstressed.  That said, had I felt more connection to and commitment to the game I probably would have kept on playing, so perhaps the observation is a fair one.

I strongly resent the comment of "He didn't play well with others...".



> For some reason, Milo reminds me of the Peck from Wulf's story hour. Only he's braver so that may not quite be just.




I'm not familiar with the reference, but I'll take it as a compliment nonetheless.  I'm sure that it was intended as a compliment, right?  *laugh*



> Aha! The Battle begins. Love the idea of Milo going out on his own and wittling down Slithereen.




Thank you!  He seemed the most capable of scouting and taking down a squad of ambushers singlehandedly was icing on the cake.  Combat was never Milo's problem.  



> I'm curious--who are the PCs at this point? Is Milo a PC? And, if so, how were his solo expeditions handled?




The DM and I slid into another room for fifteen minutes-ish.  It went relatively quickly; we fast forwarded through a few parts to get to the critical points of the solo.  We slipped away a few more times, but only for a minute now and then.  In retrospect, I should have done more notepassing to speed things up and not cause as much disruption.



> Milo - halfling thief




Thief?  I was a rogue, sir!  I didn't steal anything.  Well, not at the current point in the narration, at least.  Okay, fine, nothing very important at any rate...  *grin*



> Milo the traitor... it has a certain appropriateness to it. And I knew he reminded me of the Peck from Wulf's story hour!




I wasn't a traitor, thankyouverymuch.  *smile*



> Now I wonder if they'll gut Milo....




So did I!  It was quite fun from a roleplaying perspective, though I really enjoyed playing Milo and found it hard to savor his possible execution.



> What shall we do with Milo?




I remember the trial of Milo well.  Had to do a goodly amount of fast talking with the zone of truth spells!  One of the most enjoyable roleplaying experiences I've ever had.  My most effectve techinique was trying to make my answers as long as possible to chew up as much zone of truth time as I could before the spell expired.  Answering questions with questions was also greatly enjoyable.  *smile*



> Time for some expert witnesses about the duration of charm spells and the difference between charms and compulsions. The halfling couldn't have been forced to do all that with a simple charm person spell--not unless he was at least open to the possibilities to begin with.




It was never conclusively shown that the spells Milo was under were Charm Person spells and any testimony about Charm Person wouldn't necessarily apply because of this.  Any expert witness could only testify to his magic experience, which would probably not include ratmen shamanism, calling such testimony into question.  Titan worshippers have been known to display non-standard magics as well, and possibly the shaman had a special spell from the titan Gulaben about seducing and influencing people.  (Granted, these were predominantly disease ratmen, but there's no reason to conclude that a disease ratmen shaman has only disease titan powers.)



> So was this a case of another troublesome player? Milo doesn't seem very group friendly.




Part of the tension was the introduction of Milo into the group, which didn't play out as the DM and I had originally discussed.  (Silly players doing their own thing... *smile*)  Part of Milo's backstory was that he didn't know exactly why he was there, only that he was sent there for a good reason and with a general mission description.  He was figuring out the in's and out's of why he was there and didn't have good answers for the party about his background because he didn't know the answers fully for himself.  The (incredibly) moralistic nature of the party and his non-assuredness didn't mesh well.

However, I'd like to point out that Milo did do moral actions now and then, such as leaping into quicksand to try and rescue a Vigilant.



> I wouldn't characterize the player as "trouble" - he's a close friend of mine. But I think the trouble stemmed from a desire to play a distinct, strong neutral character who found himself allied with a "good" group; in places where "its the right thing to do" swayed the rest of the party, his characters had their own agendas, goals, and desires. This would have been more trouble later in the campaign, where "its the gods' will" became a common theme.




I think that this is an accurate characterization.  I wouldn't say "strongly neutral" so much as wanting to play a character who has some independent motivation to keep him going, something to make him a characater in and of himself instead of a character who would have nothing specific and meaningful to do if the party ever split up.



> Milo's player is a great role player and really gets into his characters. Unfortunately, it usually comes down the fact that the characters don't really work well with the group. It's a good thing we love the player so much *grin*.




Love you, too, Fulcan...  *smile*  I would like to note that all of my characters did have very different character concepts as I attempted to fit in better with the party, and that all of my character concepts (including Fergus) were preapproved by the DM.



> Out of all of Jared's characters, I liked Milo the best. I was bummed when you guys kicked him out.




I agree on both accounts.



> I haven't forgotten that he's kicking around somewhere, btw. ;-)




The party knows that I'm rejoining the group next month with the Return of Milo(tm) subplot, right?  *laugh*



> Certain players/characters were rooting for him at the beginning, but by the end his dissembling alientated all the characters and some of the players.




Definitely true, though I might have alienated more by telling the full truth without dissembling.

Oh, wait, did I say that out loud?  *grin*

Eagerly awaiting future installments,
-Fergus


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

For the record, "the peck" was the halfling rogue in Wulf Ratbane's story hour. It's well worth looking up. After a long career of self-preservation (at the cost of a few party members' lives), he negotiated with the bad guys not once but twice for access to evil prestige classes (assassin and ninja of the crescent moon) and was executed by Wulf when he found out about it.

Milo was generally better behaved than the peck and seemed to be a good deal more useful, but then again, his betrayal was actually carried out--unlike the Peck's which were never seen through to the end (most likely because the rest of the party caught on).


----------



## Fergus

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Milo was generally better behaved than the peck and seemed to be a good deal more useful, but then again, his betrayal was actually carried out--unlike the Peck's which were never seen through to the end (most likely because the rest of the party caught on).




Milo did not betray the party.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

But if they knew the truth they'd be even less well-disposed towards him? 

Well, maybe to we should bring in the Peck from Wulf's story hour to paraphrase the Shawshank Redemption: "I'm the only guilty halfling rogue in purgatory. Everyone else is innocent--just ask them."



			
				Fergus said:
			
		

> Milo did not betray the party.


----------



## Fergus

see post below...  (accidental double post)


----------



## Fergus

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> But if they knew the truth they'd be even less well-disposed towards him?




Well, I never said that he did only good things, just that he didn't (exactly...) betray the party.  *grin*

I want to thank you very much for the reference to Wulf's story hour.  It's a great story hour and time well spent; a great recommendation.  I found it to be a very enjoyable and engaging read, and I can definitely see some parallels between Milo and Peck.  Milo was, in my opinion, a much better character, of course...  *wink*  (Your mileage may vary!)

Something I would like to say, though, is that Wulf was a quite a bastard himself: greedy about loot distribution, teleporting home and abandoning his teammates in combat, quite openly disrespectful to other party members, and did openly antagonistic things like stealing another character's shield.  And at times he made unilateral decisions about the course the party would take.  Quite honestly, I don't see Wulf as exactly a great team player either.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #17: Interludes and Intermissions - Episode 3 of 13*

Goldpetal and his companions reach the edge of the rubble, all that remains of the hill upon which the standing stones stood, the hill which contained one shattered altar, and beneath that, the Temple of Pain, a shrine of Gormoth. As Goldpetal walks out into the rubble, Paks stops, holding out her hand to stop Chuck as well. “We wait here,” she says, turning her back on the elf and watching outward. She draws her sword and begins patrolling the perimeter, watching for trouble, while the Vigilant, fascinated, continues to watch.

Goldpetal walks through the rubble to the center. He seats himself in a lotus position, and begins chanting in the mystic tongue of the druids. As he intones the words of the ritual, he burns some herbs he has with him in a little fire. He continues for about ten minutes. Abruptly, the fire goes out, and the elf’s chanting ceases.

A little field mouse crawls up the elf’s arm. It stops near his ear, and looks for all the world like it is whispering to him. His lips move silently, and it appears as though he gives it instructions, for it runs down his arm, and runs off into the grass. Shortly thereafter, a little bird flies up and lands on his shoulder. It sings to him, and he whispers to it. It flies off. This continues happening, with various small animals and insects coming up to him. 

“We’re standing watch,” Paks’ voice startles Chuck from his reverie. He, too, begins patrolling the perimeter, keeping an eye out for ducks, and sneaking the occasional glance in at the druid. Goldpetal continues whispering to small animals for about half an hour, and then sits in silent meditation. 

Two hours pass; the sun grows warm above them, and the noise of insects is the only sound. Then, a large lizard works its way quickly through the grass, passing Paks’ guard. When it reaches the silent elf, it blurs and shifts, and metamorphoses into a lizard man. He sits down and joins Goldpetal in meditation. He, too, is interrupted by more little animals, lizards and others which Chuck recognizes as indigenous to the swamp. 

As the morning continues to pass, Chuck becomes bored with watching the perimeter of the hill. He begins trying to fly, instead, but the wind conditions aren’t good for it; there’s no lift. 

After another hour, a female wood elf, covered in ritual tattoos, shows up. She is wearing only a loincloth, and her face has a haunting beauty to it. She doesn’t say a word, walking past the two guardians to join the circle. Chuck can’t keep his eyes off of her. Shortly thereafter, a ferret shows up, turns into a tall man, and joins them.

Finally, an eagle flies in, and turn into a stern-looking half-elf. He is the first to speak. “We are now assembled,” he declares, in a firm, loud voice. He turns towards Paks and Chuck. “Thank you very much for your help. You are not needed now.”

Paks nods, and turns to Chuck. “There are parts of the ritual that we may not see,” she tells him. In a louder voice, she calls, “At what distance should we wait?”

The half-elf seems not to have heard, and the others do not acknowledge their presence. After a moment’s silence, Goldpetal calls in reply, “Return to the Freehold. I will meet you there.” 

They mount their horses to ride back to the freehold, leaving one horse ground-reigned for the druid. As they leave, they hear the group begin to speak amongst themselves in the strange language of the druids. 



Chuck and Paks reach Kratys Freehold late in the afternoon, just as Miriel meets the dove. She and Stone meet them in the dining hall, where they describe what they have seen. “The ritual will last quite a while,” Paks says. Chuck looks at her curiously, as they had not received any estimate from Goldpetal, and she sounds confident of her knowledge.

Miriel says, “We would plan to spend the night here, anyways. Novalia and Telryn are still sleeping. I suspect he, at least, will sleep through the night. Stone, why don’t you tell them your story, while I go to see if I can cure Brand’s disease?”

Leaving Stone, Paks, and Chuck talking, Miriel goes to find Brand. He is asleep in a small room off the main hall, and as Myrs had said, he is covered in red blotches and has a very high fever. He is covered in a sheen of sweat, and his breathing is shallow and rapid. Miriel fervently prays to Madriel on his behalf, and casts _cure disease_. As she works, she can see the red blotches reducing in size, and his fever breaks. He is still asleep, but no longer sweating as heavily, and his breath returns to normal.

At the evening meal, Novalia wakes, and joins everyone in the dining hall. It is a merry company, and the hall is very full, as Taryn and Myrs maintain the custom of having all dine together, save those standing watch. With the twenty freedmen and the off-duty militia in addition to their townsfolk, the hall is packed to capacity. 

Brand too, has woken up, and is dining at the head of the table with his parents. Taryn calls for silence, and offers public thanks to Miriel for healing his son, thanks which Myrs echoes. The assemblage cheers her loudly.

“It was the goddess’ will,” Miriel responds, when there is enough silence to hear her. “I am but her conduit.” 

She is sitting at Taryn’s right hand, in the place of honor, so Brand is directly across from her. In a quieter voice, she tells him, “I’m glad to see you up so soon. How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks to Madriel – and you. The illness was very sudden. It came upon me while I was working my forge, trying to melt down the scimitar.”
Miriel looks very concerned. “I should examine the scimitar,” she says.

When it appears that she might leave the table immediately, Taryn reaches out a hand to stay her. “After the meal, surely,” he says.

However, when the meal is over and we are ready to go, Myrs asks, “Miriel, wait a moment. I have some things to tell you.” She leads Miriel, Novalia, Chuck, Paks, and Stone over to a side room – the very room in which Milo’s trial was held. Taryn follows, and closes the doors behind us.

“I have studied the rat man scrolls,” she tells us, “And I have completed a translation. They are detailed documents, which describe how the ratmen were using their slaves to breed diseases, for use against human settlements.”

Paks gasps. “That’s awful!”

“That is not the worst,” Myrs says grimly. “Another scroll describes a cell of ratmen near Lave, and how they will be using the Slimy Doom to poison the water supply of that city.” She looks at Miriel, “It doesn’t say directly, but it makes a passing mention of a ‘trial run’. I think that may be the outbreak which you helped work against, last spring.”

“We couldn’t figure out how the Slimy Doom had broken out so far north,” Miriel says, nodding thoughtfully. “It is normally found only in the swamps.”

“Their plans went awry when there was a coup in the local warren,” Myrs tells us. “When Xyler Blackfoot gained control, he went against orders to attack our Freehold, seeking vengeance for his brother’s death.”

Taryn nods to Paks. “Thanks to your help, of course, we fought them off.”

Myrs continues, “The albino you met was Skelos Chernson, a noble of the rat men, Initiate of the Second White Circle. He had come to check up on their plans, and was very upset that Xyler had gone off on his own. This last scroll is an unfinished message back to his commanders, a report of all that has happened. It sounds like you eliminated them before he could send it back to his superiors.”

Taryn speaks next. “The information is very detailed: people, places. You should go to the Vigilant headquarters at Charwood Hill. It is a fortress outside of Lave, command of the Hornswythe Vigil.”

“I know it well,” Chuck says, “For I have trained there.” 

“I will write a letter of introduction for the others,” Taryn says, “In case you do not arrive with them. It is important to get this information in the Vigil’s hands, for although their plans have been interrupted by your freeing of the slaves, there is almost certainly still a cell of ratmen in Lave, and they may yet find another way to poison the water supply.”

“It is a noble quest,” Paks says. Just then, there is a knock at the door.

“Enter!” calls Taryn.

It is Brand, and he carries the scimitar, wrapped in a blanket so that he doesn’t touch it.

Miriel carefully unwraps it, and examines the scimitar. She casts a spell on it, and says, “It’s definitely magic. It is bathed in some sort of necromantic enchantment. As you said, Paks, it is extremely evil, but I cannot tell what its powers may be.”

As she is examining it, the clouds outside part, and the light of the Nameless Orb begins to pour in through the window. The moon bathes the blade in its dark red light, and a series of foul runes appear on the blade. 

“Those weren’t there, before,” swears Brand, his voice near a whisper.

“What do they say?” asks Paks. “We should wake Telryn.”

“No need,” Myrs says. “I know those runes. It reads *Blade of Chern*, in the Slytherin tongue.”

“This is an ill thing,” Miriel concludes. “I think everyone should stay away from it. Only Paks or I should touch it, and we shall keep it wrapped in this blanket, so as not to touch the hilt or blade.”


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #17: Interludes and Intermissions - Episode 4 of 13*

At the site of the ruined temple, the five druids sit in a circle. The half-elf, the one who had arrived as an eagle, says in the secret tongue of the druids, “This is a very good thing, for you to have called us together. The earth has taken a grievous wound here, and it will stretch all of our abilities to heal this rift.”

The half-elf begins leading them in a ritual, chanting and meditating. As they work, the sun crosses the sky. Sweat begins to drip down their faces, as there is no shade. Goldpetal can tell it will take them well into the night to cleanse this area. 

There are many aspects of the ritual. For some time, they sit in silent meditation. Then they begin to chant and sing, sometimes together, sometimes individually. The elf has brought wooden pan-pipes, while the lizard-man and the human have each brought drums. In the late afternoon, they have a bonfire, and dance wildly around it to the beat of the drums, the melody of the pipes, and the strength of their song. 

Around sunset, the ritual reaches a crescendo of power. The five druids stand on their feet, chanting loudly, and a great rending noise, as though of rock splitting, echoes up from the rocky ground beneath them. The earth settles beneath their feet, as the last remnants of the evil temple are ground into fine, untainted rock.

Through the early part of the evening, the ritual continues, softer and quiet, with a subtle hint of joy and spring, as the five druids bring plants to life across the barren rubble. First one blade of grass, then another, peers through the rocky earth. As though finding sunlight, they thrive and grow in the darkness. Roots, growing swiftly, permeate the remnants of the standing stones, breaking them down as well. The soft chant swells to become a raucous celebration of life. By mid-evening, the rough circle which had been a mound of rock and rubble has become a smooth meadow with grass and flowers. It looks and smells like springtime, although all around it is the dry grass of autumn.

The chant quiets, then drops to a whisper, and then to silence. After a few minutes, Goldpetal opens his eyes. He looks around the circle, where the female wood elf and the half-elf have opened their eyes as well, and greet him with smiles. The lizard man and the human are both still meditating; the human opens his eyes a minute later, while another ten minutes pass in silence before the lizard man finishes. 

When they have both finished, the half-elf speaks. “It is done. A great wound to the earth has been healed here, and even more damage prevented. The earth thanks you, Goldpetal.”

The young elf bows his head in gracious acknowledgement. Through the course of the ritual, he has learned more about the Mysteries than he had yet been taught, and has learned a great deal about ritual casting.

“This Circle is finished,” the half-elf says formally. After a moment, he motions to the two elves, and adds “You two should remain, and speak with Strength of the Willow.” With that, he seems to blur and shift, and turns into the eagle, already stretching its wings in flight. In moments, the eagle disappears into the night sky. The human druid, once again a ferret, has already slipped off into the new-grown grass.

The lizard man, Strength of the Willow, remains with the two elves. He speaks the druidic tongue fluently, with only a hint of a Draconic accent. “You have learned much, both tonight, and in your experiences these past three months. You have, tonight, learned Mysteries known only to an Initiate of the Third Circle. However, there is more that you need to learn.” 

“You,” he says sharply, turning to peer at Goldpetal, “Must learn to control your spells. Many times, in my swamp, you have cast a spell without intent. This is dangerous, very dangerous. A mere wizard does as much, trying things he does not comprehend until one achieves an effect that he desires. Often, they see not the consequences of their power, and that will inevitably destroy them. Of a druid, I expected more. Your powers must come at your will, and stay bound to your will, or you would be better off without.”

Goldpetal looks abashed, but the lizard man turns his attentions to the wood elf. “And you,” he says, with a similar sharpness to his voice, “Must learn to control your passions. Your anger has nearly destroyed you once, and your love for a companion not of the Circle may yet destroy you. You must rule your actions with your head, not your heart, or you will one day use your powers in a way which you will keenly regret.”

The wood elf looks defensive, but stares at her feet without response.
After a moment, the lizard man says, “You must both practice self-discipline. But,” and with this his voice lightens. “There is also something else you must practice.

“You have noticed by now that you can pass without a trace, if you so desire?” They both nod. “This is because your experiences have made you more attuned with both the earth and the plants. They respect and accept your presence, in a way that they resist the presence of others. Similarly, thorns will turn aside, and briars will not grasp you, allowing you to move without pause through heavy foliage.

“There are also new spells and rituals which are available to you, which I must teach you.”

He spends several hours teaching them the new spells and rituals. There are many rites, too many to list, but amongst them the two elves learn to both _cause_ and _neutralize poison_, as well as how to _cause _ and _remove disease_. They are also able to cast a spell to breathe underwater, to merge with or sculpt stone, and to call lightning.

When these spells are all taught, the lizard man concludes, “You can see why self-discipline is so important. With these spells, both great good and great evil can be wrought. If you are not disciplined, much ill can come of this knowledge.

“Far more important, however, is what I must teach you next. For you will learn to assume the form of an animal. I know not which; you saw that I become a lizard, while others take other forms. You must discover for yourself which animal you possess in your heart. But again I must warn you: Discipline and thought must rule your mind. There are ever stories of the unwary, both of young Initiates trying to learn the Mysteries without guidance, or of elder Druids whose self-control lapses. Those unfortunates forget how to change, forget even that they were once an elf, or a lizard man, or a human. They are trapped, forever, in the body of the beast.”

The two elves draw a deep breath and square their shoulders, and the lizard man teaches them the way. With a ripple, a great black panther occupies the space that Goldpetal had stood in. The panther turns its head, and finds beside it a lithe reddish-brown fox. Another ripple, and the two elves are standing in the clearing again, with awe on their faces. “Go,” says the lizard man. “Play. Feel the joy of the animal form, but forget not who you are.”

Again, the ripple, and panther and fox stand side by side. With a flounce of her bushy tail, the fox turns and darts across the plain, and the panther runs with it. However, though they play together for a brief moment, after some time the fox turns north to head into the hills, while the panther works his west across the plains. 

Goldpetal learns the joy of running as a panther, his sure paws beneath him finding every foothold, his gait both effortless yet faster than he has ever run before. His eyesight is keener even than an elf’s, and the night air carries many stories to his nose. Finally, he recognizes the scent of an apple orchard, and remembers what he is, and where he needs to go. He turns towards the orchard.

Before he can reach the edge of the trees, however, a great eagle swoops down in front of him. The cat-like instinct leads him rushing towards it, prepared to pounce. As he coils himself to spring, the eagle ripples and becomes the half-elven druid, standing tall and stern before him.

The panther tries to stop, but tumbles over its paws, clumsily sliding to a halt at the druid's feet. As the dust settles, Goldpetal lies there, in elven form. He picks himself up, and so does not see the hint of a smile which fleetingly crosses the older druid’s face.

“You should not approach them so,” the half-elf advises. “For they would not recognize you. It is best that you introduce them to the concept gently, should you find it necessary to do so at all.”

“Yes,” Goldpetal says, with a hint of a smile, which any observer might have thought similar to the older druid’s. “I can see that.”

“I wished to speak with you alone,” the half-elf says. “Walk with me.”

They walk together through the apple orchard, and wherever the half-elf passes, apples almost ripe ripen, and green ones begin to turn red. “This is not over, yet,” the half-elf says. “You should go with your companions, northward to Lave, for your task is yet undone. But be cautious. The way of Madriel is not the same as the way of Denev, though they may lie together for a time. I see in your future a difficult choice, for a day will come when you must choose between your companions and Denev.”


----------



## Amaroq

One of my favorite 'druid scenes', Josh - you did a great job with that one.


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## Fergus

Amaroq said:
			
		

> One of my favorite 'druid scenes', Josh - you did a great job with that one.



 Mine, too.


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## Fulcan

> A mere wizard does as much, trying things he does not comprehend until one achieves an effect that he desires




Hrmph.  I represent that, er, I mean, resent that.


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## Graywolf-ELM

Yes, I agree.  I haven't ready any story hour which brought together a meeting of Druids in such a manner.  nemmerle's has a more brutal set of Druids, if you get around to reading that story hour.

GW


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## Amaroq

The druid is a particularly tough class to DM, I think. I've never been in a game where one was given the chance to 'shine' in this way, standing front and center. A lot of times, the druid 'ethic' differs enough from the hero 'ethic' that some DM's avoid addressing a druid's motivations; Goldpetal's player does a great job of standing in his role, and representing it to our DM, who in turn has presented him with some great dilemnas and some excellent moments on center stage. (Talking about 'The Shrine of Gormoth' episode, Goldpetal's player says, 'Oh, I think of that as 'The Standing Stones' episode!')  Plus, I just loved the description of what 'levelling up' might look like.

Thanks for the pointer to the story hour - will have to check it out!


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #17: Interludes and Intermissions - Episode 5 of 13*

At Kratys Freehold, after discussing our plans with Taryn and Myrs, though it is still early in the evening, most of us retire to our rooms. 

Chuck is in a state of bleary-eyed exhaustion, having stood watch while the rest of us slept the night before. He’s been up almost forty hours with only a half-hour nap at dawn. He heads straight to bed, and is instantly asleep to dream of his beloved ducks.

Miriel examines Telryn, who wakes briefly, but appears disoriented. His eyes do not focus well, and though he recognizes his friends, he doesn’t know what day it is.

“I think he has a concussion,” she concludes, shaking her head. “But I lack the energy to perform a healing on him tonight.”

“I can heal him,” Novalia offers. “Though Tanil’s healing is slower and seems to exhaust me more, I have slept through the afternoon.”

Miriel looks at her, as though sizing her up, and then gives a curt nod. “I will go downstairs to make a tea which will help him rest,” she says. As she steps out of the room, Novalia steps to the bedside and prays to Tanil for healing for the young mage.

When they have finished, and Telryn has drunk the tea, he looks much better, and settles into an easier, natural sleep. 

The rest of the group gathers in the other bedroom. “I am going to sleep,” Miriel says. “We should get a full night’s rest, and discuss our plans in the morning.”

Stone nods. “Sleep sounds good,” he says. His bruised and battered face still looks a mess.

“You guys sleep,” Paks says, “I want to stand vigil until Goldpetal returns.”

“I’ll wait with you,” Novalia tells her.

The two women stand watch from the roof of the wall. They talk long into the night, about many things. Novalia outlines her plan for a company to stand against the ratmen here at the border of the swamp, and again tries to convince Paks to join her. The warrior gives her no commitment, but helps revise the plan and assists the young huntress in figuring costs, supplies, and strategies.

When they exhaust that topic, Paks describes all of the fantastic events which have befallen her, from the first strange healing she was able to perform back in the tower, to the dream and spells which came to her in the swamp, to her ability to sense as a palpable thing the evil of the Shrine of Gormoth. Finally, she tells Novalia what the Hope had said, privately, about the ‘Knight of the Swan’. When her strange tale is finished, she asks, “What is happening to me?”

Novalia looks out into the darkness for almost a minute before turning to face her friend, and responding. “I can shed no light on that, Paks, other than to say, ‘It is clear that the goddess takes a great interest in you.’ Sometimes, the gods act in ways not of our choosing. Paladins are not always created by training and ritual bestowed by other paladins. There are always some who the gods choose, and those that feel that call do not turn from it.”

“But... Paladin?  Me?  I’m a simple mercenary.”

“You may have been, once, but in the time I have known you, you have never been a simple warrior.”

“I just want to do what is good.”

“What else would a paladin of Madriel want?”

Paks has no answer to that, and they stand in the chill night air for a while. Following the first rains of fall, the air is cooler than it has been in many months. After a contemplative silence, Novalia describes how frosty Miriel and Telryn were on the ride home. “I don’t know why they would be so cold to me!” she says plaintively.

Paks touches her hand to the younger woman’s shoulder. “I think they were very upset that you shot the Hope.”

“But…” Novalia protests, struggling to find the words to explain.

“I know,” Paks says, with compassion in her voice. “You were trying to end its misery. I knew what you were doing. I don’t think Miriel can see it that way.”

Again a silence falls over the two companions. 

When Novalia turns to say something else, she sees that tears are streaming down Paks face. Silent sobs shake the warrior’s body, and Novalia puts an arm around her as she buries her face in her hands.

Paks tries to speak, but the sobs make her words impossible to understand. 

Finally, she chokes out the words “I… miss… him…”

Novalia can only hold her as she mourns for Hands of Fire, saying “I know… I know…” She holds Paks until she has cried herself out.

It is well after midnight, and tears have dried, before Goldpetal steps from the shadow of the apple orchard to stand before the gates.

“Hold on,” Novalia calls down to him. “I’ll get a guard to open the gate for you.”

“No need,” the druid replies. “I have much to think about this night. I will sleep outside, and meet you for breakfast. I merely wanted to let you know I had returned.”

He turns to go.

“Wait!” calls Paks. He turns, looking at her with those inscrutable purple eyes. “Did it work?” she asks, quietly.

His elven ears have no trouble hearing her. “Yes,” he says. “The land is healed.”

Paks says nothing, but gives him a firm nod. The elf returns it gravely, then steps into the dark shadows of the orchard.



Morning dawns on the second Madraday of Madrer. Miriel awakens early to perform the special dawn rites which accompany the holy day. As she meditates, she can feel that the goddess is pleased with her efforts. She can feel happiness suffuse her, as though the warm rays of the sun warm her soul. When her ritual is complete and she opens her eyes, she finds that she has learned a new spell which will allow her to remove a curse. She thinks immediately of Chuck.

Miriel returns to the bedrooms, where most of us are still slumbering, and moves quietly among the rest of the party, examining our injuries.

Telryn awakens easily at her approach. Novalia’s healing the night before removed his concussion, and his eyes focus normally. After sixteen hours of deep sleep, he looks fully healthy, and heads downstairs for breakfast.

Paks, too, seems fully healthy. She sighs deeply in her sleep, however, and Miriel suspects that her heart is still heavy. 

Stone’s bruises are fading. Instead of the dark purple and grey of the previous day, they are now a dark, sickly green. The effect, with his pugnacious piggish nose, makes him look closer to full orcish. If she hadn’t known him for so long, Miriel might have found the visage frightening. Instead, she concludes that the bruises will heal without further assistance from her.

Chuck, who has the worst injuries of anybody, she has intentionally left for last. He has not received healing since being battered by the falling rocks of the collapsing shrine, and she lays her hands on him as though to heal him. Instead, she surreptitiously casts her new spell, _remove curse_, on the young Vigil. 

She feels it fizzle beneath her hands. Chuck starts to wakefulness. He looks up sharply at her and demands, “What was that?”

“I was just trying to make you feel better,” Miriel placates him.

He looks at her dubiously, but she calls on Madriel to heal him, and as his injuries heal, his suspicions fade.

The brief commotion has woken the others, who begin to rise and dress. Miriel offers to look Novalia over, but the archer dismisses her with a brief, “I’m fine.”  

Since nobody else needs further healing, Miriel completes her rounds by healing her own bruises and sore ribs, for she too had been hit by the falling rocks of the collapse.

When we go down to join Telryn for breakfast, we find Goldpetal coming through the main gate. He joins the party in the main dining hall.

“Paks says it worked,” Miriel tells Goldpetal, as we sit down to Myrs’ fine morning meal.

“Yes.” The elf cocks his head at her. “The land is healed. I have learned many things about ritual casting.”

When he says no more, Stone recounts his story, briefly describing the encounter with the ratman monk, and his defeat at the blind one’s hands.

Miriel describes the disease Brand had caught from the enchanted scimitar, while trying to melt it down, and how she has learned a spell to cure disease, and that she was able to heal him. She does not relate the tale of the dove or her attempt to remove Chuck’s curse.

Finally, we tell Goldpetal about the rat man plot, and discuss where to go next. The last time we’d discussed our next destination, we had been split evenly between going to Lave or Southport, but the events of the past day, and the things we have learned, have changed many of our minds.

“I’m convinced,” Paks starts. “I think we should go straight to Lave.”

“Though I would prefer to go straight to Lave,” Miriel responds, “I have had a message from Verenia. I must go to Southport first.”

“I am willing to go to Lave,” Novalia says, “To fight rat men, but I don’t think we can spare the time to stop through Southport.”

Goldpetal looks at her with those dark eyes. “But we have a responsibility to go back to Southport and inform the town council of what has happened,” he says.

“Yeah,” Stone adds, though he appears bemused that he is agreeing with the elf.

“I don’t,” points out Telryn, “Nor does Novalia, but if that’s where Miriel is going, then there I go as well.”

“I’m still going directly to Lave,” Novalia tells us firmly. “Even if everyone else agrees to go to Southport.”

“Are we agreed?” Goldpetal asks, looking at Paks and Chuck.

“Sure,” Chuck answers cavalierly.

“I will go with the group,” Paks agrees. “Novalia, here, take your shopping list back – you’ll be able to fill it sooner than I will. Where in Lave should we meet?”

“We can meet at my family’s tavern,” Miriel suggests, “The Sleeping Dragon Inn.” 

We pack for the trip. Myrs includes some of her special spicy food, and we take the scrolls from the rat man warren. The evil scimitar resides deep in Paks’ backpack. The freeholders are more than happy to sell us horses. Novalia buys two horses, so she can trade off between them. We leave the aged horses, the nags we had rescued from Delonia’s crew, and the cart in trade, buying better horses for everyone else, and a pony for Dorin, the dwarf. Stone declines to have a horse, stating that he can outpace any horse ever foaled.

Novalia sets out north through the hills towards Lave, while the rest of us move east towards Southport, trying to reach the ruined tower by nightfall. 

During our travels, Telryn talks to Dorin about Burok-Torn. Dorin is willing to talk seemingly forever about his ancestral home, describing at length what a wonderful city it is, made of the finest rock wrought by the master craftsmen of the dwarves. He tells us that we must visit, but of course we'll need to slip through the Callastian troops somehow. Telryn asks about the city’s history, and Dorin tells great tales of about how Burok-Torn was founded, and epic battles the dwarves have fought. Dorin talks his ears off, tracing the lineage of the dwarven kings and the dwarven clans, on which he dwells for several hours. 

As we begin to approach the familiar ruined tower, Dorin begins to tell a dwarven legend from the early history of the dwarves. He tells it in a formal style, as though recounting it word-for-word from some other source. Some of the story is known to Telryn and Miriel; all of it is new to Paks and Chuck, who listen in rapt silence. The final words of his tale, after telling of a glorious dwarven victory, are, “And thus began the time of prosperity, which lasted until we met the enemies below.”

He shuts his mouth immediately after, and then abruptly changes the subject. This last is too much for Telryn’s curiosity, and he begs the dwarf to explain what he means. Try though the mage might, however, the dwarf’s lips remain closed in stony silence, and we ride the final hour to the ruins of the tower without any further explanation.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Amaroq said:
			
		

> Thanks for the pointer to the story hour - will have to check it out!




It will take you a while to get to it in the story if you start from the beginning.  The Druid is a Half-Orc, Ratchis.  

Another one with darker undertones, is Rel's faded glory story hour.  Druids against Druid turned bad, and one time allies of bane, and kind of anti-druids.

Those are the ones that stick in my head besides yours anyway.

On another subject.  Do you have the Cursed Duck statuette written up anywhere?  I'd love to see your stats on it, to modify for a game I'm running.

GW


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## Fergus

*Cursed Duck Write-up*



> On another subject. Do you have the Cursed Duck statuette written up anywhere? I'd love to see your stats on it, to modify for a game I'm running.




I don't think so...  However, going off of the d20 SRD, I think that something along these lines would be a good proposal:

Cursed Duck Statuette: Orginally invented as a great practical joke to play on impulsive and greedy dungeon crawlers, the _cursed duck statuette_ appears as an expensive collectible art object.  It casts its curse on the first looter unwise enough to touch a random duck statuette in the middle of a dungeon devoid of any civilized humanoids who would craft such artwork.  The poor soul becomes convinced that he is kin to ducks and is instilled with the overwhelming conviction that he can fly in a perfect V-formation with his brethren, float effortlessly in the worst of weather, and that he can communicate via loud quacking noises with ducks and other water fowl.  To his companions' great dismay, he is often seen showing off his flying and swimming talents in embarrassing situations.  These stunts never result in any success, though there's always a good reason why he's unable to fly this time even though it works in general.  The afflicted person also feels compelled to keep, protect, and rescue the statuette from harm; after all, one must protect one's duck family regardless of whether it is a live or inanimate duck.  The curse can be lifted either through a _remove curse_ spell or destroying the statuette, though it will be hard to pry the statuette from its somewhat paranoid owner.  In the case of a _remove curse_, death of the owner (usually from drowning...), or similar event that breaks the enchantment, the statuette will inflict its curse on the next person to touch it.
Faint Enchantment; CL 7th; Create Wondrous Item, _suggestion_; Price 2,500gp; Weight 5 lbs.

I don't think that there was any Will save, though I'd probably recommend allowing a player a DC 13 Will save to avoid acting like a duck in an instance where the cursed character could reasonably determine that doing so would cause serious harm to himself, the party, etc.  Practicing flying off the roof of a building on a nice sunny day and risking broken legs would not qualify for a Will save, though.  *grin*

I'm curious to see if the DM has a write up that he'll share with us.


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## Amaroq

> On another subject. Do you have the Cursed Duck statuette written up anywhere? I'd love to see your stats on it, to modify for a game I'm running.



I'm not the DM, so no, I don't. Perhaps joshwitz has them?

The inspiration, of course, came from Munchkin, the classic faux-D&D card game. Our DM relied entirely on the character playing the role rather than forcing the action via a Will-save mechanic; 'It's YOUR duck, make sure nobody else takes it; you'll do whatever it takes up to and including as a last resort injuring or killing your friends. You also believe you can fly like a duck, swim like a duck, and speak with ducks: please undertake those at any reasonable opportunity to fly, swim, or chat.' So the hapless Chuck wouldn't, for example, ditch the party to go practice flying in the middle of a battle... but he might try to fly across a chasm obstacle with precipitous results.

However, you'll note that Fergus' description above re: _remove curse_ is incorrect; application of that spell explicitly failed when Miriel cast it on Chuck. I'm not sure if the DM required a Spellcraft check, gave the object a save, or had explicitly marked the curse as requiring _break enchantment_ instead, but the look on Miriel's face was priceless: she'd just levelled up and it appeared as though she had been meta-game looking forward to being able to remove the curse herself when she reached 5th level.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #17: Interludes and Intermissions - Episode 6 of 13*

Novalia works her way to the north. At first, over the plains surrounding the Freehold, she finds it easy going, but as she reaches the hills, she begins to have trouble. There is no road, and as she reaches the summit of the ridge of hills, the going becomes very difficult. She works her way through broken ground, often having to scout for a path, or backtrack. She can’t push the horses too hard, at risk of injuring them. 

She is about halfway through the journey, perhaps six hours travel, and past the summit of the hills, when she comes across a gruesome scene. Corpses litter the ground, dismembered and brutally butchered. Everything they once possessed has been smashed or broken and scattered on the bloody ground, even their weapons and armor. Holding her breath, she kneels down to examine the bodies more closely, but she can learn no more. She cannot figure out what attacked them, how many attackers there were, or even how many bodies she has found. She is unable to identify who the victims were, or what business might have brought them this far off of the roads. 

Thus warned, she knocks an arrow to her bow, and rides quietly, alert to any sound in the bushes. She does not see any sign of humanity, nor of the unknown attacker, until at last she reaches the northern side of the hills, and can see the Veshian heartland spread out beneath her. She can see the silver band of the Hornswythe River to the north, and farms dot the countryside. A small village is nearby, and from it a dirt path leads down towards the river.

She follows the path until she comes down to the Lave-Southport road, which winds from northwest to southeast along the river’s edge. On the road, she begins to push the horses harder, switching between them frequently without stopping to rest. After the tenth hour of her journey, both the horses are too fatigued to continue further. They refuse all of her efforts, panting and lathered with exertion. Pragmatically, she gathers all of her things from the saddlebags, removes their saddles and harness setting those on the ground, and abandons them. 

She walks the final miles to Lave on foot, arriving after sunset. The gates to the city are closed, but she finds a room in a seedy farmer’s inn on the outskirts. It is a dismal, shabby place, and it strikes her as worth paying the extra for a private room; she offers an extra silver piece to be woken at first light. Stiff and saddle-sore, she retires to her room, where she summons Tanil’s healing to help overcome her fatigue before she goes to sleep.

The scruffy inn-keeper awakens Novalia at first light. It is the second Taniday of Madrer, and she offers a quick prayer to her patron, Tanil, thinking it a lucky omen that she begins her search on his day. After a quick meal in the commons, she sets out to explore the aqueduct system. Though Myrs’ had read that an enclave of the ratmen is hidden in a cave near one of the aqueducts, she doesn’t know which one.

She follows the first aqueduct she finds out of town to the northwest, keeping an eye out for any signs of the ratmen. After three hours of search, she is ready to conclude that she has the wrong aqueduct, but her patron provides luck on his day. Just as she is about to turn back, she espies rat-like tracks, as large as a man’s foot, leading away from the aqueduct.

She draws her bow, and follows the tracks. She moves as stealthily as she can, planting each step with care. The tracks lead into a small but thick wood. As she works her way into the foliage, something hard smashes against the side of her head. She falls to the ground, rolling onto her back.

The last thing she sees as darkness overcomes her are the muzzles of three ratmen standing over her. 



The rest of us awaken at the tower on the morning of the second Taniday of Madrer. It is the 10th day of the month. Knowing that we are a mere half-day’s travel from Southport, where we plan to stay the night, we take our time packing, and enjoy a leisurely breakfast. Miriel’s cooking, which was good to begin with, has only improved as she grows more accustomed to cooking over a campfire instead of in the comfort of an inn’s kitchen.

We ride north on the road to Southport. As we’re traveling, we come across a grisly scene of our own. Several bodies lie just off the road, with one of them stretched across it. Dried blood is pooled on the grass next to them. They have been hacked apart, brutally, and it is tough to tell how many of them there are, or much about them. 

Stone observes, “They’re human,” pointing at a head which, though severed, has been left mostly untouched.

Miriel shudders. “Yes, but that’s about all we can tell,” she says. Even the practiced healer looks very green about the gills; Telryn has stepped off the path to retch on the other side.

“It appears to be perhaps five different humans,” Goldpetal offers, squatting beside one of the bodies. The elf’s approach disturbs a cloud of flies. “Look. Their weapons have been sundered, and this appears to be the symbol of Vesh on their armor.”

“It might be a Veshian patrol that’s been slaughtered,” Miriel says, fingering the broach on one corpse’s leather tunic.

“That’s the militia emblem,” Paks observes, looking over her shoulder.

As they talk, Chuck has been studying the ground. He seems to be stepping precisely in the tracks of one of the combatants. Now he speaks: “It appears to have been a battle of one against five. The band of five were ambushed. They fought well, and bravely. Only the last one turned to run, at the very end. The victor attacked the others as though in a berserker rage, and then went off this way…” Chuck begins following the tracks away from the road. “…off into the woods.” He disappears into the woods.

“Hey Paks,” calls Telryn, whose curiosity has gotten the better of his nausea.  He motions the warrior over to the body he is examining. “You’ve seen war. These look like clean cuts…”

Dorin interrupts. “Axe wounds, from a huge axe. I’m sure of it – I use one meself, and I’ve seen these kind of wounds before.”

Telryn nods. “They’ve been hacked up with an axe. Paks, why would he keep hacking them up after killing them?” 

Paks looks at the corpses, shaking her head with pity in her eyes. “I haven’t seen anything like this,” she says.

“Do you feel any evil presence in the area?” Miriel asks Paks.

The warrior closes her eyes for a moment in concentration. “No, nothing,” she answers, “Though this is clearly an evil act.”

Just then, Chuck reappears out of the woods.

“Any luck?” asks Paks.

“No,” he says with a curt head shake. “I lost him. You’d think that heavy boots would be easier to follow, but if any spider webs have been broken, the spiders have rebuilt them since.”  

Telryn, still looking a bit green around the gills, stands up from the body he was investigating and asks Chuck, “When did this take place?” 

“I’d guess about two days ago.”

Miriel invokes Madriel to bless the souls of the departed, and we wait in respectful silence. When she is finished she says, “There’s little more we can do here. I suggest we move on.”

“No,” Paks says firmly. “We can’t just leave them. I want to bury them.”

Miriel looks impatient. “We have neither the tools nor the time,” she says.

Paks looks stubborn, but before she can reply, Telryn steps in. “There is plenty of wood at the forest edge,” he says. “It won’t take long to make a pyre.”

He quickly has agreement from both women, and we collect wood from the forest to make a pyre for the dead.



We arrive at the Laughing Ogre Inn in early afternoon. The people of Southport have heard about our rescue of Kratys Freehold, and we are cheered in the streets as we ride up to the Inn. Fox and his children meet us in the courtyard, clearly delighted to see us. The Inn, which had been fairly empty this early in the afternoon, is quickly full of people.

Fox gives us a round of beer and food, and everyone gathers around us, wanting to hear about our adventures. Saraya, the bard, starts singing a song she has written about the heroes of Kratys Freehold. It is well written, with a verse about each of us, and it sounds extremely heroic. There’s even a long part the treachery of Milo. 

When he hears that part, Chuck laughs. “Word travels fast,” he says. 
Miriel doesn’t join in the fun and cheers, instead eating rapidly. When Paks asks what the hurry is, she responds, “I have to go to the temple.”

“I want to go with you,” Paks tells her. They finish eating just as the song concludes, and walk out the door together. 

In the inn, Saraya starts asking for details about our latest adventure. People seem to know that we were leaving Kratys Freehold to go into the swamp, and they keep asking questions about that trip. Between Stone and Chuck’s laconic answers, and Goldpetal’s natural reticence, it falls to Telryn to tell the tale, though the others help him muddy the story, especially Dorin, who is fond of lengthy sidebars.

All that any of them is willing to say about the standing stones is Goldpetal’s cryptic quote, that “They are no more.” The townspeople back off when they see we don't want to talk about it.

After Telryn finishes the story of the swamp for the second time, Saraya’s questions get more detailed. Fox is sitting there with his arm around Telryn, when Saraya asks, “So, Telryn, there’s one thing you’ve not explained. How did you happen to get teleported into the Freehold? Where had you been?”

“Oh, I’m sure it was just a teleport error,” he says. “I was in Lave, and went to see Delmeron…”

In a lightning move, as soon as he mentions that name, Fox draws a dagger. Before anyone can react, his blade is at Telryn's throat. The noisy common room hushes to utter silence. Fox growls, “What have you to do with Delmeron?” A drop of blood appears on the mage’s skin.

Telryn doesn’t flinch. “Fortunately, nothing,” he says, his voice firm and unyielding. “He teleported me wrong.”

“He's always interfering in my plans,” says Fox, “Twisting them to his own ends.”

“I assure you, I am not involved,” Telryn says. “My master is Loowys Strangeblood, in Mullis Town. He sent me to Lave to purchase a rare magical component.”

Fox looks Telryn in the eye, and seems to make a judgment to himself. “You don't seem to have the whiff of one of Delmeron's dogs,” he says, “But if I find that you are one of his spies, you are a dead man.”  He removes the dagger from Telryn's throat, and re-sheathes it. The noise of conversation resumes, though at a hush, throughout the room. 

“Have you arcane talents yourself, sir?” Telryn asks of the half-elf.

“I may have some talent in the arcane arts, but perhaps this is not the place to speak further. Come with me, let us adjourn to a private room. Saraya, play a lively tune, please,” Fox gets up, and walks with us to one of the back rooms of the first floor, a small chamber with a dining table, fire place, and two benches.  

As we walk, Chuck whispers to Telryn, “Well done. Very smooth.”

We all seat ourselves in the private room, and Rian brings another round of drinks, shutting the door behind her to give us privacy. Fox tells us more about Delmeron. “Long ago,” he says, “Delmeron was one of my companions in adventure, along with Grilliam and others. When we first began, he seemed a staunch ally, but he turned to evil ways, and began studying the necromantic arts. We parted, with harsh words. Now, every time Grilliam and I do something, Delmeron is meddling in our schemes.

“I must warn you that Delmeron is a very evil, subtle and conniving wizard.”

“So I have learned,” Telryn says. “I can't match spells with him now, but someday there will be a reckoning.” 

“There is no chance that your teleportation was an error. Delmeron is too good a wizard for that. He's up to something, I just don't know what. He's probably spying on the rest of you because of my support. I don't know how he learned of your band so soon.”


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

So, what happened to Novalia? Did her player decide to leave the campaign? Or was her player just a bit too bull-headed and spent a few too few ranks in spot and listen?


----------



## Fergus

> However, you'll note that Fergus' description above re: remove curse is incorrect; application of that spell explicitly failed when Miriel cast it on Chuck.




My bad...


----------



## Fergus

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> So, what happened to Novalia? Did her player decide to leave the campaign? Or was her player just a bit too bull-headed and spent a few too few ranks in spot and listen?



 You can never spend too many ranks in Spot and Listen!  *grin*

Will the party find her body?  Will the party find her after she escapes from someone's evil clunches?  See what happens to Novalia in the next installment (or two)!


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #17: Interludes and Intermissions - Episode 7 of 13*

Paks and Miriel reach the temple of Madriel, and find the high priestess, Verenia, waiting at the door to greet them. “Miriel, I’m glad you heeded my message,” Verenia says, “And that you came to join her, Paks. Let us speak privately in my office.” As they pass through the main chamber of the church, both Miriel and Paks pause to make donations of one hundred gold pieces, having come into wealth during our adventures in the swamp.  

When they are seated privately in Verenia’s office, she tells Miriel, “You fulfilled the prophecy. I had a vision of you in the Shrine of Gormoth. It must have been horrifying!”

“Yes,” Miriel says, while Paks starts to ask a question. 

Verenia holds up her hand to stop her. “You did the right thing. Yes, the Hope was destroyed, and so was your lizard-man friend, but their sacrifice helped not only destroy the shrine, but prevented a great evil from entering the world. Perhaps the Hope’s spirit has returned to Madriel. May the spirit of the lizard-man rest with his ancestors.” 

She turns to Miriel. “I called you here because I recently had a second vision. I saw a double-handled urn, etched with serpents, filled with blood.” 

Paks glances over to Miriel. “I didn’t tell you this, Miriel,” she confesses, “But the Hope spoke to me, when you had all departed and I was left alone with it. It said that the ‘Serpent Amphora’ had been found, and that ‘The Dal-Arnot’ must not get it, and that I must protect it at all costs.” She asks Verenia, “Could this urn you saw be the Serpent Amphora?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Verenia says, “I’d suggest that you check with the loremasters in Lave.”

“Milady,” Paks asks the priestess, “Could you use your powers to locate the Amphora?”

The priestess shakes her head. “Such divination is beyond me,” she says. “But let me describe the rest of the vision. Many gods were involved, not just Madriel. I saw signs of Tanil, Hedrada, Chardun, and even Belsameth, and the serpents of course represent the Serpent Queen, the fallen Titan Mormo.

“Madriel has entrusted you with this quest. You will both be her agents in the dangerous deeds ahead. Do not fail her!”

The two young women sit silent for a moment, heads bowed, contemplating the great responsibility.

Verenia turns to Paks. “Paks, I suspect that you might be the Knight of the Swan.”

“The Hope called me that!” she exclaims, “Twice!” 

Verenia nods solemnly. “To those who can see it, there is a great cygnet growing inside you. Madriel is testing you. This test brings great danger and responsibility!”

“But, what does it mean, ‘the Knight of the Swan’?” 

Verenia doesn’t answer immediately. When she does start to speak, at first it seems not to be an answer to the question. “I met the last Swan Knight, Arniel,” she says, “Almost 40 years ago, when I was very young. During the Great Healing, she quested across the land, helping the injured and the weak and the defiled. They say that she was originally from Durover, but she traveled across the breadth of Ghelspad. She hasn’t been seen in at least a generation, more than twenty years. Some say she’s been taking bodily up to Heaven to serve Madriel directly. Others say she’s being held prisoner, while others say she’s off fighting evil elsewhere." 

Paks looks thoughtful. “Has it been 21 years?” she asks. “I’m just a little over 21.”

Verenia nods, pursing her lips in thought. “I’m not sure,” she says, “But it is possible. You should both go to the main cathedral in Lave and talk to the Mother Superior of Vesh, Helea. She might know more.”

Verenia looks Miriel in the eye, and says, “This is your quest as well. Protect and support Paks, and she will do the same for you.”

Miriel nods, but does not respond.

The priestess says, “I have messages for some of your companions as well. Tell Chuck, ‘Beware the Serpent in the Fold! It’s bite will be deadly and unexpected!’ And for Stone, ‘Beware the Huntsman! The hunter and the hunted can swap roles quickly. Do not be the recipient of the fatal blow!’ 



At the Laughing Ogre, the interest dies down, when the heroes remain hidden for an hour or so. When he judges it safe to do so quietly, Stone slips out the back door.

He works his way through town to the temple of Hedrada. He stops in the chapel, and kneels in prayer. Everyone recognizes him, and a number of Hedrada’s worshippers find sudden reasons to be in or near the chapel, despite the odd hour for it. Stone ignores the whisperings, “That’s the half-orc monk of Hedrada!” “He killed a ghoul with his bare hands!”, and keeps his head buried in prayer.

Grilliam arrives, and the crowd disperses, discovering business elsewhere as quickly as they had discovered reasons to observe. Grilliam waits until Stone looks up, and then says, “I would like to speak with you, Stone, if you are done making your observances.”

“I am,” the half-orc says, clambering to his feet. Grilliam leads him through the main hall towards his office, and Stone takes a moment to drop five platinum pieces and two hundred silver in the temple’s renovation fund. When they are seated, Stone tells Grilliam of our adventures. He leaves nothing out, though the half-orc is not naturally given to a long tale, and he makes short work of many parts of it. 

When the tale has finished, with the news of the dismemberment in the road, Grilliam says, “You have done well. Very well. Your band has certainly earned the second half of our reward,” he says, and he pushes ten platinum pieces across the desk. 

“You are proceding to Lave immediately?” When the half-orc nods, the priest offers “Let me give you a letter to give to the authorities in Lave. You should have an audience with the Hornswythe Vigil. Tell them everything you have just told me. Much of your tale is disturbing, especially the news of this dismemberment in the road.”

Stone waits while Grilliam writes the letter, and then returns to the inn.



Much of our clothing was destroyed in the battle at the Freehold, the ten-day spent in the swamp, and the battle at the Shrine. Individually, we all make a pass through the tailor’s, each placing an order for fresh clothing. Fortunately, the tailor has things which require only alterations for us; they can be ready the next morning for a slightly higher price.

In the evening, we all gather back at the inn. Stone spends the evening in the inn yard, surrounded by kids who delight in alternating hero-worship of him with terror of the half-orc. 

“Fox,” Telryn asks, over dinner. “Would anyone in Southport have magical scrolls for sale?”

“No,” the half-elf tells him. “We’re too small for that sort of traffic. Maybe I can recommend some shops in Lave.” Telryn notes the shops he recommends.

Fox turns to Dorin. “You look familiar,” he says. “May I ask of which clan you are?”

“I am Dorin Silvershield, of the Silvershield clan,” the dwarf says proudly. “I am cousin to Thorin Silvershield, who I believe is one of your former companions.”

“Yes!” Fox exclaims, clearly delighted. “And how is Thorin these days?” 

Dorin responds enthusiastically, and soon he and Fox are deep in a swap of stories. Eventually, the dwarf decides to stay in Southport for awhile. Fox suggests that he can get a job working with Saylis, the local smith, to get some money together before he goes back west to Burok Torn. 

When dinner is over, and the inn is quieting, Miriel tells us a very brief bit about her visit. “I am leaving for Lave in the morning,” she says. “I hope you all will accompany me. Verenia had some messages to relay, prophecy I believe. Chuck, she said to tell you, ‘Beware the Serpent in the Fold! It’s bite will be deadly and unexpected!’ ”

Chuck nods, and she turns to Stone. “To you, monk, she would say, ‘Beware the Huntsman! The hunter and the hunted can swap roles quickly. Do not be the recipient of the fatal blow!’ ” 

Stone gives a brief laugh. “Good advice,” he says.

Fox looks to Chuck, and says, “If you do go on to Lave, the commander of the Vigilant group, Thorn, is another of my old companions. Give him my warmest regards.”

Chuck looks around, and says, “I think I speak for all of us, when I say we will go. Goldpetal?”

The elf gives a nod. “I will accompany you,” he says.

As we stand to go back to our rooms, Miriel stays behind for a moment, and gives Fox a handful of coins, fifty gold pieces. “For all the room and board you’ve given us,” she says.

Fox smiles warmly. “Thank you kindly,” he says. “I had a feeling my investments in you would pay off.”

Goldpetal leaves as the rest of us go to our rooms, to spend part of the night exploring the hills in his new-found form of the panther, and part of the night resting and meditating at the clearing he had prepared during our first visit.

The next morning, the second Hedraday of Madrer, we head out early for Lave. On the way out of town, we all stop to pick up the new clothes we had ordered the previous day. Stone also picks up the new boots he had commissioned the previous month. We set out, northwards, in high spirits.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

So, is someone happy that they are finally out of the swamp?

GW


----------



## Fergus

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> So, is someone happy that they are finally out of the swamp?
> 
> GW



 Ha!    *laugh*

Definitely a welcome sentiment to all involved.  I think I recall Telryn's player doing a happy dance.  *grin*


----------



## Fulcan

Telryns happiness to be out of the swamp showed no bounds.  Matter of fact, if it wasn't for the fact that he kept obtaining scrolls and magical treasure through adventuring more quickly than he ever thought was possible he probably would have quit this adventuring gig as soon as they reached Lave so that he could return to his wonderfully dry library.  But, you know what they say about curiosity...


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #17: Interludes and Intermissions - Episode 8 of 13*

It takes a day and a half of travel, as the road winds along the river’s edge, to reach Lave. We journey without incident, enjoying the crisp fall air. It is Wildday, the thirteenth day of the month.

As we draw near the great Veshian city, Telryn tells us some of its history. “Lave used to be the capitol of an old Ledean province,” he says. “Before the Divine War, when the Ledean Empire collapsed, Vesh declared independence and Lave became the capitol of Vesh.”

When we come into view, we can see a sprawling city of nearly 30,000 people. It has some old stone architecture and also the modern architecture of wood and plaster. The outer part is a sprawl of wooden houses, and there seem to be no central points. Surveying it, Paks tells the rest of us, “It’s so exposed and undefended, and the walls are pathetic. This would be a terrible place to defend in a war.” 

Telryn answers, “That’s why its changed hands so many times. It’s a big trading city, not a point of defense.” We can see that there is a lot of traffic on the river, and all along the riverfront, the docks are busy and thriving. The city spreads in a half-oval away from the Hornswythe River, with the river-front surface being the longest side. The outskirts of the city are outside the walls, which are sprawling and poorly kept: there are few places where they are even eight feet tall.

We can see several aqueducts leading into the city. Chuck looks a little confused. “Why are there aqueducts, if its on a river?” he asks. 

Miriel chuckles. “The river water is no good to drink,” she tells us. “We have to get our water from central Vesh.”

We work our way through the outer edges of the city, and arrive at the gates: They are more ceremonial than functional, finely wrought with gold inlay rather than sturdy iron, and flanked by two statues of Tanil with her bow drawn, one on either side of the gate. The guards standing watch over the busy gate seem bored and distracted, and we gain entry without challenge.

Just inside the gates, we decide to split up: its early afternoon, and everybody has different errands to run throughout town. Miriel wants to go directly to the cathedral, and Paks and Telryn decide to accompany her. Stone wants to find a temple of Hedrada, and Chuck wishes to find the money changers; they, too, decide to go together. Goldpetal opts to go on to secure room at Miriel’s family’s Inn, the Sleeping Dragon. Miriel gives everyone directions, and go our separate ways. 



Goldpetal finds the Sleeping Dragon Inn easily. It is opposite a bustling square, which is filled with a farmer’s market today. The Inn is easy to find, as there is a big sign with a sleeping dragon next to a turned over barrel of beer. Though it is only afternoon, the inn is packed, and nobody gives a lone elf coming through the door a second glance.

Goldpetal finds a serving girl, and says, “I’m a friend of Miriel. Is her family here?”

The serving girl rushes off to fetch Miriel’s adopted parents, and shortly they both approach him; he still waits, awkwardly, at the door. Miriel’s parents are both human; the man is tall and barrel-chested, and his arms bulge with muscle. “You are a friend of Miriel? Welcome! Welcome! Come in, come in. Here, you, make room!” the man exclaims, in a deep, booming voice, guiding Goldpetal to a table hastily cleared by a few other patrons. 

“I am Clay, and this is my wife, Kendra. Here, sit down, have a beer – we make it ourselves.” The couple sit with Goldpetal, and the serving girl places a stein before him on the table.

“How is Miriel?” asks Kendra, “We haven’t heard from her in weeks! Is she well?”

Goldpetal takes a sip from the beer – which is excellent, the best he has tasted since leaving home – and begins his story. Not one to make a long tale, he keeps it brief, leaving most of the details for others to tell later. Even so the telling of the siege of Kratys Freehold and our counter-attack takes nearly an hour.

When he has finished, Clay rises and excuses himself. “Thank you for the telling,” he says. “Now I must get back to work!”

Kendra remains with her guest, and asks “Have you heard from her sister, Liriel?”

“No, I have heard nothing of her,” the elf answers. He glances from her to Clay, now working behind the bar, noticing that neither of them looks anything like Miriel. They look like typical Veshians, with dark hair and olive skin. “Why are you...” he starts, then seems to change his question. “That is, I understood she was half-elven?”

Kendra laughs and answers, “She and her sister were foundlings.”

As they are chatting, he hears someone call “Goldpetal? Goldpetal!” from the crowd. The voice is familiar, heavily accented, though he cannot place it.

He turns around, and sees that it’s a tall woman, wearing only a bikini and a gold-embroidered cloak. She has magnificent red hair, but is otherwise rather loud and unattractive. She has a black bat sitting on her right shoulder. Goldpetal does not look thrilled. “Brunhilde,” he says, in a flat voice.

She doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort, and gives him a huge, enthusiastic hug. “How good to see you!” she shouts in his ear. “How is everyone?”

“Fine, fine,” he says, trying to disengage himself from the hug. “They’ll all be here soon.” 

“How delightful!” she says, and sits at the table, to Goldpetal’s evident distaste. She quickly dominates the conversation, talking his ear off, asking about his adventures, and, though he does not ask, telling him all about hers. 

When Brunhilde pauses for a deep draught of ale, Kendra glances at Goldpetal. “I’m so surprised to hear that Miriel has had adventures,” she says. “She wasn’t very good at making the beer!” 

Goldpetal takes advantage of the moment to ask Kendra for rooms for the party for the night. “Certainly, certainly,” she answers. “Any friend of Miriel’s is welcome here at the Inn, and we’ve rooms free.” She rises and excuses herself, pleading responsibility for cooking

Brunhilde launches into another story, which Goldpetal endures with good grace and patience.



Stone and Chuck find a small square, where there are three trading houses, the money changers. The largest one belongs to the House Asuras. 

Chuck looks at it with suspicion. “The House of Mered also has a good reputation,” he offers, taking a step towards the next largest building.

Stone punches him in the shoulder. “No, House Asuras. Let’s check it out.” The half-orc begins to walk into the House Asuras building, and Chuck follows reluctantly. 

It’s a bustling trading house, swarming with armed guards, not just at the door, but patrolling throughout. The guards eye the half-orc suspiciously, but Chuck is given directions to the money changer’s table.

The fat man behind the table does not look up to acknowledge them, which prompts Stone to slam his palms against the table. “We’d like to change some money,” he says loudly.

The money changer starts, then looks them over with a measuring glance. “Adventurers, right?”

“No,” Chuck says, shaking his head. “No, actually, treasure hunters.”

“Well,” the money changer says, spreading his arms wide. “Its lucky you came here! We have special deal, only 10% to exchange coins.”

“Sounds good,” says Stone, hefting his sack up onto the table. 

The usurer hardly bats an eye at the quantity of coinage, and starts to examine the coins. He looks up, looking Chuck in the eye. “These are really old,” he says. “Most of them are from before the Titans’ War. They’re not much use, but we could melt them down. I’m going to have to pay you for their weight in ore, rather than their count as coins.” 

“Fair enough,” Chuck replies.

Stone pulls out the cheap gems and the garnet. “What will you give me for these?” he asks.

The money changer draws out a small loupe, the magnifying glass used to inspect gems, and studies them. “I can give you about five gold pieces each for these,” he says, “And a hundred fifty for the garnet.”

Stone nods, “Done.” 

“You guys are lucky you came here,” the money changer says, and then adds with a sly smile, “And didn’t get the tax on adventuring.”

“We’d like that in platinum,” Stone tells him. 

Again, the money changer doesn’t bat an eye. He pulls out a chest, and counts out 70 platinum pieces for Stone. He turns, and shouts over his shoulder, “Bring up some more platinum from the basement!” 

As the two adventurers head out the door, they split up. Stone heads off to the temple of Hedrada, while Chuck makes for the temple of Tanil. 



Chuck wanders through the streets of Lave, taking in the sights, and asks a passerby for the temple of Tanil. He is pointed to the park, Tanil’s Court, and walks there. It is a large park, spanning several blocks at the center of the city.

The park is open to the air, filled with animal topiaries. Near the center, there is a great bronze statue of Tanil leaning on her bow, with her fox at her feet. The base of the statue is a shrine, where people have left flowers, burning candles, and other sacrifices. Nobles and townsfolk alike walk around, some talking, others sitting on benches, and there are a few people praying at the shrine. 

Chuck meanders through the park towards the statue, enjoying the afternoon sun. When he reaches the shrine, he kneels and prays. He is silent for a long time, and then prays aloud. “Tanil,” he says, “I’ve had some bad luck, and I need some help.” There are no answers, but he feels much lighter of heart, warmed by the sun and his time in the park. He leaves his dice as an offering, and turns to leave.

He walks out via a different path than that which he entered by, and it takes him past a duck pond. He finds it irresistible, and stops to speak with the ducks for a while. Sadly, they speak a foreign language, a different dialect of duck. He enjoys his conversation with them anyway. People stare at him oddly. 

When he finally leaves, he goes to a weapon shop to unload some of his extra weaponry. Among other things, he sells the large whip-sword which we captured during the battle for Kratys Freehold. 



Stone searches the town for a long while, searching for the temple of Hedrada. He is unable to find it without asking for directions, which it takes him several hours to break down and do. When he finally arrives, he finds that the temple is very modest, much smaller than Grilliam’s temple to Hedrada in Southport. 

Four priests are present, in the large chamber. They politely welcome him. He says little to the priests, but kneels at the altar and prays.

When he has completed his prayer, he leaves, again with little conversation. He wanders through the streets of the town during the afternoon, distracted by all the many sights. He buys a lot of “exotic” (to him) foods, and discovers that he loves cheeses.


----------



## Fergus

Yay, an update!


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

So, why did Stone and Chuck go to House Asuras anyway? Isn't House Asuras the one you had the run-in with in the early adventures?


----------



## Fergus

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> So, why did Stone and Chuck go to House Asuras anyway? Isn't House Asuras the one you had the run-in with in the early adventures?




You are correct about the past encounters.  House Asuras has a number of legitimate businesses, so it's not like any affiliation with them is a criminal one.  I wouldn't be at all surprised if the people working in the money exchange had no idea at all that House Asuras did anything illicit.

I'd be highly doubtful that anyone from the earlier encounter would be able to give an accurate description of the party so that they'd be recognized, and even if they could I doubt that the party would be fully recognizable.  When they met the party the first time the players weren't nearly as hardened as they are now, and I would wager that crawling through swamps for weeks changes one's bearing.  They might look the same on one level, but in many others they probably seem like different people.


----------



## Amaroq

Stone had actually considered that point, explicitly - when he punched Chuck on the shoulder, I think his thought was 'hey, if we do business there, maybe we'll learn something.'

House Asuras is also a large, legitimate business house, and if you wanted to place money 'on deposit', for withdrawl from any other location, they'd be the right place to do it; for moneychanging, I think any of the places would have been 'right' for us.


----------



## Amaroq

*Issue #17: Interludes and Intermissions - Episode 9 of 13*

Miriel leads Paks and Telryn to Noon’s Hospice, the temple of Madriel. 

As they walk through the city, she tells her companions about the points of interest which they are passing. Near the center of the city is the grand park, Tanil’s Court, full of bushes pruned and shaped into animals, shady trees and grassy expanses, and a duck pond which reminds the heroes of Chuck. At the center of the park is a great bronze statue of Tanil leaning on her bow, with her fox at her feet. Beyond the park, they pass the grand Hall of Command, the capitol building of Vesh, a palatial building protected by a functional set of walls, fully guarded.

Still near the city center, Miriel leads the other two to a giant amphitheater, sunken into the ground, with weathered stone benches set into the bowl of it, surrounding an area which could be a large stage or a small sporting arena. “This dates from the old Ledean days,” she tells them, “Before the Titan’s War. And here is the cathedral.” 

Just beyond the bowl of the amphitheater, at the top of one bank of benches, and facing south over it, is a large stone cathedral. It stands several stories tall, with a single stone bell tower rising above that. Stained glass windows adorn the facing, and the roof is flat with a crenellated parapet. The great wooden double doors stand open above the sunken stadium, and people come and go busily.

As Miriel reaches the doors, she is greeted warmly by two of the priestesses, who exclaim her name and exchange warm hugs, with ceremonial kisses of the cheek. “We’d heard that you were returning!” says the older of the two says. “Helea is waiting for you in her study.” 

Miriel thanks her, and quickly moves through the cathedral to the high priestess’ chambers. Telryn and Paks follow along, stringing out behind her as they are torn between desire to keep up and an awestruck desire to see every bit of the mammoth cathedral: the sunlight streaming through the stained glass and into the main chapel is inspiring to both, while Telryn’s eye is caught by a number of bookshelves and imagines great libraries elsewhere in the building. 

Helea is a diminutive figure, with white hair and wrinkled face. She might be as much as 90 years old, though she is clearly in great health, as she rises steadily from her uncushioned wooden chair to greet the threesome that appear at her door. Though the priestess looks so light that Paks suspects she could lift the old woman with a single hand, she also radiates a quiet power. Her eyes are unclouded.

“Miriel,” she says, in a voice raspy but true, “You have come a long way.”

The young cleric bows her head before her high priestess. “I apologize for being away so long.”

“Your destiny was obviously elsewhere,” Helea concedes, waving away her apology. “It may be that you were never meant to be an administrator or a local healer. Madriel works in mysterious ways, and it would appear that she has made a junior clerk into a great healer and warrior.

“Yes, Verenia has sent word of your deeds. She also described her vision. I give her words great creed: she is the most skilled diviner in Vesh.” 

There seems little for Miriel to say in response, and she remains silent. Helea turns her attention to Paks, whom she gives a long, considering look. She holds Paks’ eyes with a gaze which seems to see to the bottom of Paks’ soul, before she gives Paks a slight nod, as though of approval, or perhaps respect.

“You may be worthy of the title,” she says. “I hadn’t thought to live to see another Swan Knight: Madriel has not chosen one since Arniel disappeared these twenty years ago. Paks, you will need to stay here, and learn the Lesser Mysteries of Madriel. We can give you that introduction, at least.”

The elderly priestess turns back to Miriel. “Miriel, we think it is time for your initiation to the Greater Mysteries.” 

Miriel appears to blanch, as though in fear. Mastering herself, she bows her head, and replies, “I am much honored.”

“Even though you are still very young for this, we think that time is of the essence,” Helea says. “There is something about the two of you that is very special. Verenia’s vision carries serious implications, and if you depart on this quest, we cannot know when you will next rest within the safety of these walls. We must make sure you two are prepared for anything the future may hold.”

“Then I will return,” Miriel says, “But I must visit my parents, and let them see that I am well. I will return tonight, and stay at the temple. Paks, you might wish to stay here as well.”

“Cells will be made ready for both of you.”

The two young women nod. After a momentary pause, Miriel motions Telryn forward. “May I present Telryn?” she asks. “He is a wizard, and a follower of Madriel, who has been most instrumental in our journeys so far.” 

“I am honored,” says Telryn. “May I request the privilege of studying in your library?”

Helea gives him a similar long look, a deep consideration which seems to reach into the depths of the soul. When she finally speaks, she says “Telryn, you have not been brought here by mere chance. There may be things for you to learn here, and I suspect there will be aught for our loremasters to learn from you, as well, ere you are done. You are quite welcome to study in our library. Your friends will need to be here for about a week, with their initiations; during that time, you may come and go as you please.”

“Thank you, milady,” Telryn says, and his eyes gleam. His companions can tell that he is very pleased.

“How much have you heard of our journey?” Paks inquires. When Helea doesn’t respond to her question, she continues, “On the way from Kratys Freehold back to Southport, we found a group of titanspawn torturing a Hope in a shrine to the Nameless One.”

“So I had heard,” Helea says. “Go on.”

“The shrine itself seemed to reflect its pain back on it, and we think they were trying to use that pain to summon the Nameless One or one of his minions. With Madriel’s Tear, and Her blessing, we were able to stop them. Madriel’s Tear destroyed the shrine, but the Hope was lost, as was the Tear.”

Helea nods, but remains mute. Paks continues, “After everyone left, the Hope spoke to me. It told me that every generation, Madriel picks a Swan Knight, and implied that I was chosen. But, it also told me that the ‘Serpent Amphora’ had been found, and charged me with a quest: that I must protect the Serpent Amphora. But I know not what this is, or how to carry out my quest. Can you help us?”

Helea shakes her head. “I have not heard of the Amphora. This must be what Verenia meant: she sent me a cryptic message for you, Miriel. ‘Tell Miriel that my arcane research for her was fruitless. I could not locate what she is looking for.’ Perhaps Telryn can help the loremasters here try to find more information about it.”

“Thank you,” Paks says. “I have another question. What can you tell me about the Mysteries? I am not currently dedicated to any of the gods.”

Helea smiles at this last, as though Paks has made a joke. “Madriel has picked you,” she says.

“Would it be appropriate for me to dedicate myself to Madriel at this time?” asks Paks.

“Of course,” she is told. “But you do not need to. That, you have already done for yourself.” Seeing the confused look upon the young warrior’s face, she adds, “Your initiation to the Lesser Mysteries may explain more. Any night which you wish, we can prepare you for the ritual. The ritual itself is short, only a few hours, but you must bathe in holy water and fast overnight, to prepare yourself. In addition, you can come in at any time, and one of my priestesses will give you instruction in the lesser lore of Madriel, and teach you the rituals.”

“Will I learn more about the Knight of the Swan?”

“They will tell you all the legends they know. The brief story is this: during the Titans’ War, Madriel selected a champion from among the mortal warriors. Each generation, she chooses another. The Swan Knight is always female, and there is only ever one at any one time.

“Now, I must go. Miriel, remember that the big harvest festival on Belsaday is coming up, and you’ll need to be at the temple then. Paks, that would be an auspicious day for your dedication ritual, as well.”

As they stand up to leave, Telryn asks, “Is there laboratory space I might use, in the cathedral?”

“Certainly. You may have free reign within one laboratory during your stay, but you must pay for any materials you use.” 



As Paks, Telryn, and Miriel walk back through town, Paks asks Miriel, “Tell me about the initiations.”

Miriel smiles. “Yours, the first level, are fairly easy. You will be coached in all of the answers, and there is no real danger. But the Greater Mysteries! I’m scared. I’m incredibly young to be initiated, and it’s very dangerous. I’ve seen sisters who have failed, who Madriel does not choose. They are blinded beyond all powers of healing.”

“Surely that wouldn’t happen to you!” Paks exclaims.

Miriel raises an eyebrow and remains mute.

The threesome stop by the moneychanger on the way back to the inn. As Stone and Chuck did earlier, they also select the House Asuras. Miriel and Paks exchange their gold for platinum. 

Telryn asks the moneychanger, “May I have a letter of credit?”

The moneychanger smiles. “Certainly. If you would rather place coin on deposit with the House than carry it around everywhere. We charge 5%. It is only good with the House of Asuras, but we are just about everywhere.”

“What about visiting shops in town?” asks Telryn.

The moneychanger shakes his head. “Most merchants won’t accept it,” he says.

“I’ll just take platinum,” Telryn says. 

As they leave, Paks says, “You two head on back, I’ll meet you at the Inn. I want to see about getting some armor made.”

She stops into a few smithies in town, looking for a master smith, but is unable to find one. Finally, she settles on a human smith, a likeable, barrel-chested man with a hint of grey in his beard. She has a good feeling about him.

She inquires about having a suit of full plate mail made to fit her. The smith tells her that it will take about a week, and she commissions it. Her existing suit of chain is sorely worn, scarred by acid from the red algae in the swamp, and rent in several places by mighty blows which it has stopped, but she is able to offer it in trade, along with a thousand gold, for the work to be done.


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## Fergus

Amaroq said:
			
		

> House Asuras is also a large, legitimate business house, and if you wanted to place money 'on deposit', for withdrawl from any other location, they'd be the right place to do it; for moneychanging, I think any of the places would have been 'right' for us.




Mmmm....  Letters of credit.  I hadn't thought of that one.


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## Fulcan

Fergus said:
			
		

> Mmmm....  Letters of credit.  I hadn't thought of that one.




Yeah, I thought the idea of weak little Telryn wandering around with a large sack of gold or platinum wasn't a good idea.  But 5%, that's was too much.  That would have taken away the construction of a couple of scrolls *grin*.


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## essenbee

Bump


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## Amaroq

*Issue #17: Interludes and Intermissions - Episode 10 of 13*

We all arrive back at the inn at differing times, mostly in the late afternoon. Goldpetal is all too happy to foist Brunhilde off on the other adventurers when they arrive. Chuck is back first, and seems happy to see her. Stone shows up with a sack of “exotic” cheese, which he complements with a bottle of wine; even the half-orc’s company seems better to the elf than the loud Albadian redhead. 

Telryn and Miriel arrive together, and Miriel is swarmed by her parents and six siblings. The hugs and greetings bring all other traffic at the inn to a halt, and everyone wants to hear all about her adventures. 

Telryn joins the rest of us at the table, and as soon as we are able to get attention from any of the serving staff, we order dinner. Brunhilde tells us, “I’m sorry that I left you and missed your great adventures. But, tomorrow, I leave for my home in Albadia. If you’re ever up in the northern wastes, you should visit! We could hunt snow wolf and yetis!”

Fledermaus, the bat on her shoulder, squeaks and flitters when Brunhilde mentions yetis. Brunhilde laughs loudly. “There are no yeti here in the warm southlands, silly bat! Hahahaha!”

The rest of us look at each other flatly. “I don’t see what’s so funny,” Telryn whispers to Chuck. 

“Must be an Albadian joke,” Chuck whispers back. 

Brunhilde continues. “You can ask for me in Thurfa, the Albadian capital. My family has a mansion there.”

Paks arrives last, coming in just before the food arrives. We have an excellent dinner – Stone particularly loves the ale. The specialty of the house is pasta with a tomato-garlic sauce with capers and olives, which prompts Stone to wander into the back of the kitchen to learn how to cook it. 

“That was fantastic!” Chuck exclaims, as we’ve all finished.

“The Sleeping Dragon is known for its pasta as much as its ale,” Miriel says, slipping into the chair next to the Vigilant. She has finally detached herself from her family and her storytelling to join us.

“Has anyone seen Novalia?” asks Paks

Everyone shakes their heads. Goldpetal answers, “She has not stopped here.”

“She should have been here by now,” Paks replies, with a look of concern etched on her face. 

There is a brief silence, and a grim set takes over Paks’ face as she notices that neither Miriel nor Telryn seems to share her concern. Miriel breaks the silence, pushing back from the table and standing. “I’ll be going back to the temple for the night,” she says.

“I must see the Vigilants tonight,” says Stone. “And what about Novalia?”

“I have to spend time at the temple,” Miriel brushes him off brusquely.

“Let’s go to the Vigilants now,” suggests Paks, “Its only just getting dark.”

“Okay,” Chuck says. “Finding Novalia will probably go along with seeing the Vigilants.”

Telryn acquiesces with a shrug. Seeing the rest of the party arrayed against her, Miriel grudgingly agrees.



The Vigilant fortress is not located within the city itself, but on a hill a ways outside of town. We arrive at the fortress about an hour after dark. It is a large, stone-walled compound, with only a single gate, at which there are plenty of guards. The gates are closed. “Who goes there?” demands the watch. “What do you want?”

Chuck steps forward, and gives a secret challenge. The watchman replies with a code word, and Chuck gives the correct reply. 

“They’re all right,” the guard captain says. “Raise the portcullis and open the gate.”

The portcullis creeps slowly up, and Chuck starts to walk through the gates. Behind him, Paks and Stone notice that there are red gems set on the sides of the gate. One of them lights up as Chuck, in the lead, steps through. The guardsmen draw their swords. Faced with six blades, Chuck stops abruptly.

“Wait,” Stone says, “We have papers.” 

The guard captain, stepping down a stairway from the wall, looks him over. He seems unimpressed with the half-orc, and gruffly commands, “Let me see.” 

Stone kneels at the gateway, shuffling through his backpack to retrieve Grilliam’s letter. The captain takes it from him, and studies it. He takes another slow measure of the group, and then relents a bit. “Okay. Come with me.” 

He leads us across a narrow courtyard, and into the main building, where he takes us to an audience hall. It has a large fireplace, and many chairs and couches, upholstered in a rich dark red, which matches the dark wood of the interior walls to create an elegant atmosphere at odds with our outfits and appearance, still soiled from weeks in the wilderness. “Wait here,” he commands.

Paks motions him aside. His men move as though to stop her approach, but the captain gives a quick shake of his head; they let her pass.

She puts her head near his, and speaks, quietly enough that the rest of the group cannot hear her. “We think he’s under a curse. We found a large golden duck in this ruined Ledean tower, and he picked it up. Ever since then, he’s been convinced he can fly.”

The captain’s grim face breaks into a broad grin, and he gives a deep chuckle. “Oh, Chuck,” he says. “He doesn’t have one of those Daltese ducks, does he? Oh, damn.” He gives Paks a reassuring nod, then steps out. Two of his guardsmen remain posted at the interior of the doorway, and we suspect that more await, outside.

"What did you say to him?” Stone asks Paks.

“Yeah,” Telryn adds, “He looked set to run us all through, and you had him laughing in a moment.”

She shakes her head, and a secret smile plays around the corner of her lips. “I’ll tell you later.”

After a few minutes, the door opens: all of our heads turn, expectant, but it is merely a servant balancing a tray of wine glasses. He says, “You may be waiting a few minutes. While you wait, the Captain bid me to serve wine and cheese.” 

Only Miriel and Paks feel comfortable enough here to drink the wine; Stone helps himself to the cheese, marveling at the many different flavors his new-found favorite food comes in. Chuck paces the room impatiently, while the others wait with an apparent studied relaxation.

Finally, a priest of Tanil enters, followed by a large, muscular man carrying a great set of iron tongs, and four armed guards. The priest gesticulates briefly, casting a spell before anyone can react; as hands reach for weapons and Stone eyes the guards, the spell is complete. 

The priest shakes his head gravely. “Yes, it seems he is under a curse,” he says, staring at Chuck. Behind him, the large man rolls his eyes. “I can cast a spell to remove it,” the priest continues, “This will take only a moment.” 

The priest casts a second spell on Chuck, _break enchantment_, which removes the powerful curse. “That should do it,” he says, “But beware – the duck can still curse any who touch it. Where is it?” he asks.

“In my bag,” Chuck answers, tossing his head to gesture over his shoulder.

“Open the bag and set it on the floor,” the priest orders. Chuck complies, stepping away from the bag. “Master smith?” the priest asks.

The barrel-chested man steps forward with the great tongs. He uses them to fish through Chuck’s pack until he can bring out the golden duck. “Ahhhh, yes,” he says, “A Daltese duck. This is the second one this year.” He begins walking towards the door.

Paks calls out, “Wait! There’s something else you should both see.” She brings out her pack, and opens it, gingerly bringing out a long package wrapped in blankets. “We took this from the body of a great ratman warrior,” she says. She sets the object upon the low table in front of the couch, and unwraps the blankets to reveal the evil-wrought scimitar.

The smith’s eyebrows rise. “Oh!” he exclaims. “I'll be back for that! Leave that on the table and don’t let anyone touch it.”

Paks shakes her head. “It causes disease,” she warns. “The last smith to work with it took every precaution, and still came ill. I seem to be immune.”

“Why don't you come with me, lass,” he says. He heads off down the hall, with Paks following behind him.

Chuck sits, head bowed in his hands. “I feel so stupid,” he says. Telryn surreptitiously casts _prestidigitation_, and creates the illusion of a half-dozen tiny ducks flying around in the air, circling Chuck’s head. Stone can’t stifle his laughter, and everybody else cracks big smiles. A brief wave of the mage’s hand, and the illusion disappears.

The priest, looking straight at Chuck with ice in his voice, says:

“Never…

     “Touch a duck… 

*“In a dungeon!”*

He looks around to the rest of us. “Maybe you guys are just young. Here is the story of the ducks. In the land where the Mourning Marsh is now, there used to be the kingdom of Dalta. Its symbol was a golden duck, and a duck was forged of pure gold, then imbued with many magical powers by the greatest wizards of the age. It was a powerful artifact, and everyone wanted it; some for good, and some for evil.” As the priest speaks, a tall thin man enters the room. He wears Vigilant garb, leather armor and a dark cloak, but he is very old, perhaps in his seventies. He walks without a cane, but slowly. A half-elf assistant stands a pace behind him.

“The kings of Dalta saw the artifact stolen and recovered four times,” the priest continues. “Then some trickster wizard had the idea of manufacturing a bunch of them out of lead, and cursing them all. The king ordered it done. If ever anyone found the real one, it would be worth a fortune – but chances are it’s not real, or even gold. 

“You should have remembered, Chuck. Didn’t Steve teach you anything?”  

At the mention of his dead mentor, Chuck breaks down, sobbing into his hands. The priest respectfully bows his head, and steps out the door. The old man gives Chuck a moment to get himself together, then walks slowly to the center of the room. Though he is aged and thin, he seems to fill the room, and when he speaks, his voice is firm and strong.

“I am Thorn,” he states. “You have messages for me? Tell me what this is all about.” 

By the time he has finished, Chuck has dried his eyes, and begins to report. He succinctly describes the attack on Kratys Freehold, our counterattack, and describes how we came to capture papers from the ratman warren, and what Myrs Kratys interpreted them to say when she read them. He brings out the papers, and Grilliam’s letter, while describing our theory that the city of Lave is in danger of attack via its water supply.

“Very good work, all of you,” Thorn says. “We will analyze these papers tonight; if the ratmen have reached lave, we will root them out immediately.” 

“There’s more, sir,” Chuck says; he goes on to tell him about the House Asuras and their slaves-for-drugs trade with the ratmen.

“Yes,” Thorn says. “I’ve gotten reports. Jim sent notes, as well. Good work.” He turns to the rest of us. “If you want to join us in our raids on the ratmen, you’re welcome to join us.”

“I want to,” Stone says. “I’m worried about Novalia. She might have done something…”

He trails off, as though searching for a word, and Telryn suggests “Stupid?” 

“Imbecilic?” calls out Miriel.

“Moronic,” Telryn offers.

“Idiotic?” counters the priestess

“No!” Stone cuts them off with a sharp gesture of his hand. “Impetuous!”

Chuck tells Thorn how Novalia had left earlier to take a more direct route, but doesn’t appear to have arrived yet.

“We will look for her as well,” Thorn says. “In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here, to train with us. Also, our weaponsmiths are the best in Lave.”

Miriel draws out the amulet we recovered from the Twilight Warden. “Take a look at this,” she says, handing it to Thorn. While the old man examines it, she says, “We captured it from a Twilight Warden in the swamp.”

Thorn nods. “We’ve heard reports about these Twilight Wardens, but we’ve never seen them,” he says. 

“Jim was killed by a Twilight Warden,” Chuck says. “They seem to have a mockery of our organization.”

Miriel, says, “Keep the amulet, for study.” Thorn smiles, and looks very pleased. 

“Here, Deleon, take at look at this,” Thorn says, handing the amulet to his assistant, the half-elf.

Deleon looks at it, and says, with wonder in his voice, “Look at the workmanship on this! We never knew that the rat men create such expert work. Their stuff in the past was crude, and they seem to have jumped by an order of magnitude in their abilities.”

“That’s not all they have,” Telryn says. He  begins to describe the shaman’s room, with the laboratory, the preserved bodies, and the books. As Deleon takes notes, Thorn takes Chuck aside.



Meanwhile, in the basement, the smith is similarly impressed with the work on the sword. “We didna’ know that the rat men could make something like this,” he tells Paks. “Let me call in some magic users to look at it.”

Three mages arrive to examine it. The eldest looks very grim, but the youngest exclaims excitedly, “Wow, it's powerful. Tanil’s arrow, this is going to be trouble!”

“Can you take care of it?” asks Paks.

The eldest mage nods solemnly. “We know how to take care of it.”

The youngest looks almost possessive. “But we’re going to study it first,” he says, sounding very much like Telryn to the warrior’s ears.

“I would see it destroyed,” Paks says. “I cannot surrender it unless you vow to destroy it.”

Though the youngest looks outraged, the eldest offers his solemn vow. “On behalf of the Vigil, I so swear.”

“It will take a powerful mage and an expert smith, working together,” the smith says, “And ’twill be very difficult.”

“And dangerous,” Paks cautions. She again tells, for the benefit of the three wizards, the tale of how Brand became ill working on the sword. “Be careful,” she concludes.



When Paks finishes the story, she is returned to the audience chamber, where the rest of the group wait for her and Chuck to return. Stone explains that the Vigil are going to hunt down the rat men in the morning, and that he, Chuck, and Goldpetal are going with them. Miriel is going back to the temple to prepare for her initiation, while Telryn is going back to the temple for study and research. To some degree, it seems that Miriel has washed her hands of Novalia since the archer attempted to injure the Hope. 

Paks decides to join the other warriors in search of the rat men. Miriel says she wants to go back to the inn to see her parents, then sleep at the temple for the night. Everyone else plans to stay at the Sleeping Dragon Inn. 



Meanwhile, Thorn takes Chuck aside, to a private chamber just off of the audience chamber. It looks like an office, with a desk, and two chairs. “We have heard about Steve and Jim,” Thorn says, “But we have also heard about your other work. You can be initiated into our order.”

Chuck gasps. “Is that still possible?” he asks.

Thorn gives a single, slow nod. “Yes, if you are determined.”

Chuck lowers his head in a bow. “I would very much like to,” he answers. “I must redeem myself.”


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## Graywolf-ELM

Great Thank you.  A chance for redemption, some clearing up of loose ends, to make room for new ones.

GW


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## essenbee

Great to see a new post - really enjoying this story hour!


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## Amaroq

Thank you both - that so helps to hear - especially knowing how far we have to go to 'catch up' to where we are in our last play session! This 'Interludes and Intermissions' is nearly over - and then the story really begins to pick up.


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## saltlick

Amaroq said:
			
		

> Thank you both - that so helps to hear - especially knowing how far we have to go to 'catch up' to where we are in our last play session! This 'Interludes and Intermissions' is nearly over - and then the story really begins to pick up.




ooooo... I can't wait to find out what happens next.

-Stone


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## OaxacanWarrior

I just wanted to chime in and let you know that this is my favorite story hour yet and that I can't wait to see what happens next.  Keep up the great work!


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