# Rolling Excursion into the Land of Cheese



## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

I had begun posting my campaign notes on another website, then I discovered that people were apparently reading the notes.  So, I started writing them in story-form.  However, it's becoming cumbersome to maintain the story there, so I'm going to continue it here.

I'm going to start in the middle and provide backstory as needed and see how it goes (the alternative is to repost all 200+ pages).  Please bear with me, but if it doesn't make sense, let me know


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*The Gods (Backstory)*

This campaign started as an experiment to learn about 3rd Edition when it first came out, with the _Sunless Citadel _ adventure, and went from there.  The campaign world is mostly homespun, though using only the standard deities (during planning I didn't know how to balance them, so I used the defaults...).


*Pelor, god of the Sun * -- benevolent deity, essentially as described in the PHB, known throughout the lands for his plain temples where clerics administer healing to the sick.  
*Wee Jas, goddess of death and magic * -- Wee Jas's domain is the mystery of death, its dignity and inevitability.  Wee Jas's cult was effectively wiped out in a war with the cult of Nerull long ago, and as a result, her power is weakened and the peoples of the world have largely forgotten her.
*Nerull, god of murder * -- Nerull's cult was decimated after his war with the cult of Wee Jas.  As a deity, Nerull governs death before one's time; the death by trickery, deceit and betrayal.  His shrines were destroyed and he, like Wee Jas, was forgotten by all but the learned of the world.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*People of Interest*


The core party:
Zara the tainted (Human), a Monk of the Crescent Moon Order with no sense of humor and very little concept of mercy.  Carries a magical kama of alien intelligence and unknown purpose.
Chloe Steeles the discerning (Human), a young adventuring priestess of the Church of Pelor who has seen too much.  Chloe has intermittent, uncontrolled empathic powers that are sometimes helpful but usually seem like a curse.  Wears a magic amulet to stave off horrible nightmares.
Effrem the Fine (Human), a quiet man of intelligence who doesn't like to be touched, with a fantastic gift for archery and stealth.  Effrem is paranoid but a snappy dresser.  Wears a magical helm that can see invisible creatures but also causes the occasional hallucination.
Davron Chesek (Half-Elf), a tracker formerly in the service of Hask Oakenstone.  Horribly killed by Ogres long ago, and had to be physically reassembled by Chloe prior to resurrection.  

The known "Bad Guys"
Hask Oakenstone-- the last archmage of the dying Elven race.  Went missing almost a decade ago, turned up in Millington, apparently friendly.  The party discovered his evil purpose and ambushed him.  He escaped, but not before his consort, Elania Silkenshaft, was slain.  His last words before teleporting away were "This isn't over."
Milo the Sadistic-- a halfling from the Western Cliffs with a talent for sorcery.  Abandoned the party during an expedition underneath Millington.
Axiardalon the Terrible*-- the Great White Wyrm of the Great White Wastes.  His numerous spawn have menaced the party in the past.
the Master -- a vile illithid trapped on the Material plane, residing in the Forbidden Forest with a horde of Ogre thralls.  Spared the party's lives in an earlier encounter because they seem to figure into his plans somehow.  Visits (torments) Chloe's dreams from time to time.

Supporting Characters (abbreviated)
Sir Voldren Greenshield (elf) -- a knight of the Saldasha empire charged with tracking down the rogue mage Oakenstone and the leader of Millington's security reinforcements (read: occupying army).
Baghb, son of Bighl** (human) -- Oakenstone's leutenant.  
Tharmellaine Autumnbreeze (elf)-- an elderly Diviner in the service of the Empire.  Advisor to Greenshield and some form of instructor to Baghb.
Bishop Sarek (human) -- the aged cleric in charge of the unique Cathedral of Pelor in Millington
Young Bradley (human) -- a handsome apprentice priest at the Cathedral.
Nicholas (half-elf) -- a Druid of the Circle who maintains a strange grove in the center of Millington.  A close friend of Sarek's for many years.  (see Rogue's Gallery entry)
Ainthreaxilos-- a flamboyantly happy silver dragon with a love of "human food" who tracks Axiardalon's movements.
Torlith Dornar (human) -- a bald monk of the Snow Order formerly allied with Oakenstone, who maintained a secret training ground beneath Millington.  Cold and serious, he betrayed Oakenstone and sided with the party at the ambush.  In reprisal, Oakenstone's consort, a consecrate of Nerull, slew him.  Chloe resurrected him recently and he is recovering.
Andrew Scraal (human) -- a criminal of low character, well connected in Millington, who sometimes helps the party.


*Axiardalon is a bastardization of "Ashardalon", the name of a dragon mentioned in the Sunless Citadel.  I thought the name was great, and used it on my own.  Unfortunately, the name "Ashardalon" showed up in many other sources, and draconic names IMC now have an incompatible symantic structure, so the dragon's name needed to change to avoid confusion.  It is pronounced "Ak-shee-arr-duh-lonn".

** Baghb and Bighl: the "gh" combination is pronounced as though clearing one's throat, and would otherwise sound like "Bob" and "Bill".  The fact that Baghb has no last name suggests that he is low-born.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Previously in the Land of Cheese...*

quick run-up to where we are...

Investigating Oakenstone's now-deserted lair after ambushing him, Effrem, Zara, Davron and Chloe (with Bighl, Tharmellaine, and Voldren) discover that Oakenstone has been and gone while the core party _Wind Walked _ hundreds of miles back from the mountains.  After finding numerous strange objects (and being depleted by traps) in the lair, they decide to wait until the morning before returning.  So, the core party retires to the Cathedral of Pelor, where Chloe studies and the rest of the party sleeps.

That night, Slugs* break into the Cathedral, but are repulsed by Our Heroes.  

The next morning, en route back to the lair, the party is ambushed by more slugs in broad daylight, in the middle of a crowd, where the slugs can blend into the crowd and conceal the attack.  Zara is captured and Effrem falls prey to a fear effect, panics, and runs off.  

Chloe has mostly utility spells readied, because she didn't expect much combat today (they knew the lair was deserted and most of the traps triggered).  She left open slots for further prayer, but doesn't want to budget the time to pray for better spells.


*"_Slugs_" are slow-talking human-like creatures with a hive mind.  They have several spell-like abilities and dissolve into black slime when slain.  Chloe's empathy is sometimes triggered when they are near in sufficient number.  Ruleswise, the Slugs are members of _the Crowd _ (in the Minions:Fearsome Foes supplement).


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Effrem's flight*

Effrem runs down an alley, pursued at distance by a throng of creepily quiet commoners, all of whom, to his eye, sport horns, tails, hooves, or horrid teeth.  Indeed, the commoners seem surrounded by a wicked, churning aura of green fire.  He pushes past dozens of other, less frightening commoners, looking hastily over his shoulder at every turn to see if they’re still pursuing him.  

Turning a corner in a paranoid fright, Effrem gasps in as much air as his lungs can hold.  In his blind escape, he crashes headlong through a trio of town guard, knocking one off his feet.  “Stop!” shouts one.  “Put that sword down!”  The two militiamen help up their fallen comrade and turn to pursue Effrem.

Effrem himself doesn’t know whether the guards are slugs or truly Millington’s guardians, but in his current mental condition he doesn’t give the matter much thought.  He utters a frightened cry, his throat trembling as he hurtles across the cobblestones.  His soft boots pound the street past storefronts and bewildered townsfolk, opposite of Effrem’s usually quiet demeanor.

The archer, light on his feet, is rapidly losing the armored guards.  Even in his irrational panic, though, Effrem knows their cries of alarm are sure to bring others.  His eyes scout left and right, seeking escape.  It is perhaps because of this paranoid searching that his eyes are elsewhere when danger arrives from a different quarter.

As Effrem passes an alleyway, an arm reaches out from within it to entangle him.  He struggles, but something heavy hits him in the head, stunning him.  Effrem’s fumbling form is pulled quickly and efficiently into the alley and out of sight.  The town protectors charge past, still shouting for him to lay down his arms.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Effrem's flight, continued*

Effrem wrestles roughly with his unknown assailant, who appears as nothing more than a tempest of reaching arms and nondescript clothes. The pain radiating from the back of his head is befuddling his reflexes, and it doesn’t help that his opponent’s fingers seem to sprout roots into Effrem’s flesh where they grip.  Even when the fingers leave his body, Effrem feels strangely tainted by them, as though they’ve left seeds of evil within his skin.

A harsh twist at his torso wrenches him sideways to the ground.  He tries to cartwheel to his feet, but he can’t seem to focus through the woozy pain in his skull.  So, instead, Effrem succeeds only in falling on his stomach, where he is flat in the disused and filthy alley.  

This corridor is dark and full of smoke.  Effrem imagines brimstone and hellfire leaping from great ovens somewhere in the caverns beneath Millington, where infernal monsters summoned by Hask Oakenstone work tirelessly to incinerate the bodies of everyone Effrem has ever cared about.  The smoke, he surmises, must have filtered up through the soil.  He tries to hold his breath and, rolling over on his back, kicks his way toward a wall behind him.

His adversary, a horrible demon with a hundred tentacle-like arms sprouting hands that have only thumbs for fingers, waves its arms.  An intimidation tactic, no doubt, or perhaps it’s gloating?  Effrem can’t see it very well because of the darkness and smoke.  The creatures in Chorok’s maze seemed to relish the suffering of their victims, so Effrem sits up.  He’s determined to at least go down fighting and not give the monster the satisfaction.

However, he seems to have dropped his sword when the monster snatched him.  That was the plan all along!  The enchanted townsfolk drove him right into this creature’s waiting clutches!  How many others must this demon have ensnared with the aid of its pet townsfolk?

Sound gushes forth from the demon’s horrid maw, hidden somewhere in the smoke and darkness.  It seems to be speaking to him, but Effrem refuses to hear the words.  What would a demon want to say to him?  It could only be an attempt to gloat over him, intimidate him, or worse, enslave him through some enchantment.  That must have been how the townsfolk were co-opted!  It’s all so clear now!  Effrem’s fate lurches sickeningly toward him.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Chloe and Effrem, left behind...*

Davron and Chloe remain defensive, each covering the other’s back, for what seems like a century before the crowd appears to disperse.  The dispersal is not so much a physical one, because the crowd itself is still around them.  It’s more of a churning—the cold-faced people with improvised weapons vanish into the throng, and other unfamiliar faces replace them.  

Chloe feels the voices slink away, though they’re not so far off that she can’t hear them.  “I think they’ve called this one a draw,” Chloe observes into Davron’s ear.  He nods in relief, though worry doesn’t leave his profile.

A nearby scream is muffled by the sound of hundreds of conversations, which abruptly stop.  The hazy ring of people around Chloe and Davron expands outward hastily.  Someone has spotted the skeletons and the two armed adventurers.  Further, the slug-warrior at Davron’s feet seems to have bled to death, and is now rotting rapidly away like his brethren.  

The crowd writhes chaotically, and the difference is obvious to Chloe.  Before, the people were moving in an almost-orchestrated way, but now each is acting on his own.  _Is this a change in the people’s behavior, or a change of the people themselves?  Have the slugs in the crowd now been replaced by people, who are acting on their own, or did the slugs become or revert to people?_

Assuming that the slugs can’t actually become regular folk, Chloe whispers quickly to Davron.  “We can’t let them get away.  You must have wounded a few of them—can you track them by their blood?”

Abruptly, the crowd parts for a gleaming knight on horseback.  Voldren Greenshield’s white horse rears up on its hind legs in a spectacular show of cavalry-splendor.  His sword is drawn, and his face pans over the crowd for potential aggressors.  His eyes note the skeletons, the decomposing body, and come quickly to rest on the two adventurers.  

Voldren’s gaze meets Chloe’s eyes and she sees his concern.  Her expression of fear and serious determination melts a little, and he nods, realizing that they’re not hurt.  Indeed, Voldren’s appearance seems to have a calming influence on the crowd in general, which was churning a great deal as onlookers struggled to get a look at the decomposing body, then struggled to get away from the sight and smell of the cooked skeletons.

“Calm yourselves!”  Voldren calls, which seems to have additional reassuring effect.  “All of you back away slowly.  We will get to the bottom of this!”  He sheathes his sword and makes a spreading gesture with his hands.  “Everyone is safe!”  The knight swings off his saddle, an elaborately-inscribed piece of thick leather and fabric that looks supple and comfortable, and kneels over the slug’s body.

“I can track them,” Davron says as Voldren watches the slug liquify.  “...but we must not linger here—as the crowd moves, they’ll scatter and trample anything that would direct me.”

Chloe nods and leans down to address the knight.  “Vol—Sir Greenshield,” she begins stiltedly, “Those who did this have evaded us and we have to catch them.”  She struggles for words, wanting to ask him for help, but knows that he probably can’t go with them.

Voldren’s piercing green eyes look up at her.  “My men will be here any moment,” he looks around at the bodies.  “When they get here...”  

Davron interrupts, “The trail grows colder by the second.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe adds emphatically.  “We have no time!  You have my word that we’ll find you when we can.”  She starts to add more, but simply falls silent, waiting nervously.

“Go” is all Voldren says, though his expression is similar to that worn by children who must go to bed while the midsummer sun shines in the evening.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Effrem and the Demon*

“Effrem,” the demon calls as it approaches.  “Effrem, calm down!”  Effrem shakes his head, determined to resist the increasingly familiar voice.  “Snap out of it!  A panicked rat only attracts hungry cats!”

Effrem blinks at this last statement and looks carefully at the demon, whose edges are still blurry.  The demon pauses and looks out from the corner of the alley into the main street, then looks back at him.  Its extra arms seem to have fallen off, and it looks distinctly more human.  The shape resolves before his eyes.  “Andrew?”

The man exhales carefully.  “Stay quiet, Effrem.  They’re still looking for you.”

“Andrew...”  Effrem whispers, his head clearing.  _Why were you a demon?  What’s happening to me?  Where are my friends?_

The humanoid standing over Effrem becomes increasingly Andrew-like in the coming seconds.  Andrew says nothing for awhile, but alternates between watching Effrem and sneaking glances at the main street.  Presently, he crouches over Effrem.  “Listen to me, Effrem.  It goes away, do you understand?  Just calm down and breathe carefully and your head will clear.”

_Breathe carefully?  Is there something in the air?_

“Whoa, whoa whoa, calm down, friend.”  Effrem realizes he is squirming because Andrew’s sharp teeth are in striking range of his jugular.  “You’re safe for now, and I’ll give you back your sword in just a minute.”  Andrew doesn’t actually touch his shoulders, knowing that Effrem doesn’t like to be touched, but he whispers reassuringly.  “They put a spell on you.  Do you remember?”

_The eyes... the eyes!_

“That’s right, Effrem... remember?  They hit you with their magic and you took off running.”

Effrem eyes Andrew, who holds what appears to be a heavy leather bag in one now-completely-human hand.  A sap.  Effrem rubs the back of his head, which still hurts.  “You hit me,” he says evenly.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*In case anyone's wondering why these posts are so close together...*

...I'm pasting the last few entries before I resume writing.  Not all of them are wholly relevant, so I'm skipping a few.  Updates won't normally be this fast, obviously ;-)


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Zara*

Zara’s toes drag bumpily over the cobblestones as she’s pulled bodily away from the combat area.  She’s badly beaten, and her eyelids flutter open and closed.  “I am whole...” she whispers.  “Put me down... let me fight,” she begs, delirious, before something massive collides with the side of her face.  Whatever was holding her up has released her arms, so she sinks down across the cold impact surface to a cold, stone floor.

“Good, she’s alive,” says a confident and extremely non-sluggish male voice.  “Tie her to that chair,” the voice commands with a snicker.  The snicker trails away into the silence as Zara’s consciousness seeps away.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Effrem and Andrew*

Once Andrew is certain that Effrem is no longer hallucinating, he devotes much of his time to looking nervously out onto the main street while he cautiously answers Effrem’s questions.  Viewed in profile, his eyes are busier, more nervous than Effrem has ever seen them, but his lips seem to work independently of his eyes.  “I don’t know what they are,” he says, “but there seem to be more of them all the time.”

“To know their numbers, you must be tracking them.”

Andrew’s eyes keep up their nervous vigil.  “More like running from them, like you.”

“I’m not running from them.”

“Just in a hurry, then, were you?”

Effrem squints.  “Well, that’s not what I’m _trying _ to do.”

Andrew leans back around the corner, out of sight from the road.  He crouches next to Effrem, who is still trying to get his breathing under control.  “You know,” Andrew begins, lowering himself to sit down.  “It’s not been my experience that many people spend their time running from others out of _choice_.”

Effrem looks down.  “My friends...”  He pauses, almost afraid to ask.  “They’re dead, aren’t they?”  To Andrew’s raised eyebrows, he goes on.  “I... left them in the middle of battle.  We were overmatched.  By now, they must be dead.”  Effrem closes his eyes and whispers, “I failed you all...” under his breath.

Andrew shrugs.  “I don’t know, but at least you’re still alive.”  

Effrem looks up at Andrew guiltily.  “I have to find them,” he begins to reason.  “Even if they’re dead... if I can get their bodies back to Sarek, he can bring them back.  He’d at least do it for Chloe, and she could resurrect the others...”

“That’s awfully risky.  They fight as one...  and they’re very good at it,” Andrew explains, “The people who comprise their... organization... don’t behave like regular folk.  I don’t think they’re individual minds at all.”  He shudders inwardly, his dark eyes squinting as he thinks.  “Besides, they tend to carry away their victims.”

Effrem’s eyebrows go up in concern, sensing more to this than Andrew is telling.  “What do you mean?”

Andrew is silent for a moment.  “I don’t know if I should tell you.”

“What?”  Effrem stands up, becoming angry.  “Why?”

Andrew watches him, still crouching.  His tone is very calm.  “Because I’m afraid that if I do, you’ll want to go off on some hopeless quest to save them.”

“Your concern is touching, but--”

“My concerns run deeper in this matter than you realize,” Andrew interrupts cryptically.  “Believe me, Effrem,” he adds.  His face hardens and he emphasizes every word.  “If you run off on some do-gooder rescue mission, you’re a dead man.”

Effrem mulls this possibility, scratching his chin.  “What’s your angle here, Andrew?”


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Effrem and Andrew, continued*

“My angle, Effrem?”  Andrew blinks, standing up.  He doesn’t actually feign innocence, but his expression yields nothing.  “What do you mean?”

“Your angle, Andrew,” Effrem says evenly, the fog of his mind having lifted.  “Thank you for saving my life, but why do it?”  He pauses for a moment to think.  “What exactly is your concern, as you put it?”

Andrew runs his fingers through his greasy hair and grins.  “It’s not enough to say that I’d rather you not die?  A wise hawk doesn’t waste time asking the mouse why it isn’t in its den...”

“When that mouse turns out to be bait in a hunter’s trap, the question will come up all too late.”

“Are you implying that I’d send you into a trap?  Hasn’t their magic worn off you yet?”

_You might, for all I know, Andrew, if it served your interest._  “How am I to know that you’re not yourself entrapped?  Don’t play a fool’s game with me, Andrew.  I doubt we’ve the time.”

Andrew exhales slowly, and he affects a condescending look.  “Playing the game makes certain niether of us gets played by it.  The man who doesn’t dance is the one who sticks out at the party.  You know this, or so I assumed...”

“Quit stalling and answer the question,” Effrem says.  “What did you mean when you talked about victims, before?”

“Fine,” the criminal scowls, “They murder people and tend to carry them off.  I don’t know what they do with them in secret exactly, but I have my guesses.  At first, I thought they were just disposing of the bodies...” at this, he seems to lose himself in contemplation.

“...but...?”

“I was surveilling one from atop a roof,” Andrew begins.  “I’d been running—it doesn’t matter.  I basically got lucky.  He stopped one of the town guard with his eyes—you’ve seen that, right?*”  Effrem shakes his head.  “Okay, I’ll get to that in a minute.

“He stunned the guard, and then slit his throat.  It was very efficient, I must say.  I’ve seen killers at work in the past...” his nostrils flare contemptuously.  “It’s disgusting business, but you can tell the ones who are good at it.  You can also quite easily tell which ones enjoy it.”

Effrem looks on silently, somewhat shocked by the way Andrew is talking.  Perhaps misconstruing his silence as interest, Andrew continues, his eyes averted.  “People are easy to kill, Effrem.”  His eyes flick up to meet Effrem’s, possibly to emphasize his point.  “What’s hard is to kill people easily.

“These... beings... are talented.  They knew exactly where and when to strike, and they did so without hesitation.”

“So they’re... what?”  Effrem asks, “...a race of assassins?”

Andrew shakes his head violently.  “Not assassins.  Executioners, maybe.”  

Effrem mulls this for a moment.  “This is what you avoided telling me?  That they’re dangerous?  We’ve fought these people and they don’t seem particularly talented.  I’ve met, fought, and defeated better warriors in my time.”

Andrew looks annoyed.  “Effrem, the threat isn’t from them as individual fighters— they don’t seem to act as individuals.  They act...” he searches for words.  “They look and act like people, but also like they’re all ruled by the same mind.”

“Some type of telepathy?”  Effrem offers.  _Like Chloe’s voices...?_

Andrew’s brow furrows.  “I’ve no idea.”  He considers for a moment.  “Effrem, they... on that roof, I...” he starts again.  “I think they eat their victims.”

*when the Slugs attacked the Cathedral the previous night, they made eye contact with Eyvind, a cleric there, and stunned him.  One one earlier encounter, a captive slug stunned one of the town guard from his cell, but made no attempt to escape.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Zara again...*

Zara’s world consists of a dark chamber whose walls are echoing footsteps.  There are tight constraints on her hands and feet... _manacles?  No, ropes... wires, perhaps.  _ She’s sitting on something... _a chair_.  Her vision clears a little.  

It’s still very dark, but there’s a grey, hazy illumination filtering down from the ceiling.  It’s not enough to really see by, but the flickering shadows suggest that something is moving around.  The silence of the chamber means that whatever it is, it’s being quiet.  Zara looks carefully around, hoping her eyes will adjust to the gloom.

They don’t.

“You’re awake,” the un-slug-like voice notes.  “Wonderful,” it muses with a kind of cold humor that is already beginning to grate on Zara’s nerves.  “I suppose you’re trying to look around, hmmm?”

Zara says nothing.  

“Maybe get a grip on your surroundings?”

Zara listens carefully, focusing on finding the source of the voice.  

“Not working, is it?”


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Effrem and Andrew, again.*

“What do you mean, they eat them?”  Effrem thunders, snatching his sword from Andrew suddenly.  “I’m not going to let them eat my friends!”  He turns to leave.

Andrew snatches Effrem’s arm, his eyes fierce.  “They’re already dead, Effrem!  You ca-!”

Effrem yanks his arm out of Andrew’s grasp with the fanatical strength of an affronted zealot.  This proves far more energy than neesssary, for Andrew’s grip wasn’t particularly devoted.  The result is that the force of Effrem’s escape nearly spins him around.  His eyes flash threateningly at the other man.

“You can’t save them,” Andrew finishes slowly and more calmly.  He raises his hands, palms outward: _truce_.  “...and even if you could, you’d have no way to know their loyalty.  Don’t waste your life just trying to bring back their bodies.”

Effrem’s eyes narrow defensively.  “I don’t expect you to understand.  All I need is...!”  He breaks off, belatedly digesting Andrew’s words.  Coldly, he adds, “What did you mean, I’d have no way to know their loyalty?”

Andrew fidgets, searching for words.  Motion of Effrem’s sword-arm attracts his eye, and he lunges backward, drawing his own sword.  The movements take place in the blink of an eye.  After the split-second of motion, the two stand as warriors facing off.  In the stillness, Andrew holds his sword out defensively.  

But Effrem’s sword rests at Andrew’s throat.  Across their blades, the two trade stares.  Andrew whispers, “Threatening the man who saved your life, Effrem?  That doesn’t seem like your style...”

“Threatening the man who’s threatening my friends is my style, though.  My enemy’s friend is my enemy, even if he saves my life _once_.”

Andrew’s throat wiggles slightly as he swallows.  “You’ll learn nothing from my corpse.”

“It seems I’ll learn nothing from you even if I let you live, at this rate.”

Andrew hisses through grit teeth.  “I may or may not have anything to tell you alive, but if you kill me, my silence is guaranteed.  Think I want to die?  Lower your sword.”

Effrem whispers, “You first.”


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Chloe and Davron*

“What’s that, over there?”  Chloe points.  Davron hustles over to the left side of the alley, a few yards ahead, and Chloe follows.  He crouches and reaches out.

Davron holds up a fairly bloody sandal.  “They’re carrying Zara,” he says simply.  “We should be gaining on them—she’s not heavy, but she’s no featherweight either.  That’s sure to slow them down.”

_Where could they be taking her?_  Chloe wonders.  _Why carry her away at all?_


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Effrem and Andrew, continued*

The sound of Andrew’s shortsword landing on the soft soil is astonishingly loud when he releases it abruptly.  “Fine,” he says.

The tip of Effrem’s blade dips slightly, still threatening, just not as imminently.  “Talk.”

“They eat them.”

“You said that already.”

Andrew closes his eyes.  “They eat them completely.”  Effrem doesn’t react.  “Completely, Effrem—I watched him divour every bit of the man he killed in a manner of minutes.”

Effrem turns his nose up, disgusted, but still says nothing.  His sword’s tip doesn’t waver.

“A few hours later, it...” he chokes a little, then: “I saw the man he killed later.”

Effrem’s brows squeeze his eyes to slits.  “You said he ate every bit of him, so only his skeleton could be left...”

Andrew shakes his head carefully.  “No, I saw _him_.  As if the killer had never scratched him.  Effrem, they kill them and replace them somehow.  Make copies of them, like with pressing blocks, and then nobody’s the wiser.

“That’s what I meant—you can’t go after them!  You’ve no way of knowing whether your friends are really helping or waiting to kill you!”

“Why do you care?”  Effrem asks defensively, trying to refute Andrew’s assessment.  _There has to be a way to save them!_

“I do,” Andrew says, looking slightly hurt.  “Leave it at that.”  He looks down at Effrem’s sword.  “Do you mind?”

Effrem sheaths his sword.  

Andrew licks his teeth delicately.  “The tar-people...”

“We call them slugs.”

Andrew smiles, briefly.  “The slugs, then...” His smile disintegrates.  “...their numbers are growing.  I can see where this is going, and Millington won’t be safe for me much longer.”  He inhales carefully.  “I have to get out of here, Effrem.”

Effrem’s face, for a moment, is a perfect mirror of his thoughts: _You coward, Andrew. _ 

Andrew scowls, “...and if you’re smart you’ll be right behind me.  What’s keeping you here?  You’ve no allegiance to the Empire* or that temple**, or even to this city.  All that’s left is your friends, and they’re dead!”

Effrem relaxes and whispers, “Not if you help me.”

*Millington is on the frontier, at the edge of the Saldasha Empire.  During its history, it has changed hands several times.  The Empire made its presence known recently when Voldren Greenshield's army arrived, officially to shore up defenses after an attack by Ogres.  When this happened, Andrew went to ground, effectively vanishing off the face of the earth.  That is, until he snatched Effrem above.

**the temple of Pelor, that is.  Effrem's neutrality about the various deities is conspicuous considering his long-time association with Chloe.  Note that Effrem is not an atheist -- just not a follower.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Chloe and Davron, hot on Zara's trail...*

Davron and Chloe crouch in the shadows at the mouth of the alley.  “There,” he says.  “They went over there.”

There are not very many wooden structures in Millington.  The wind and driving spring rains rot them very quickly, and dwarves prefer to build from stone, or at least mud, given the chance.  However, having an ample supply of wood floating down the river encourages some people to build such flimsy shelters.

Four heavy-looking men stand a silent guard in front of the delapidated wooden building a few dozen yards ahead.  The building, really not much more than an old barn, is practically nestled against the northern protective wall, which is itself in poor shape because Millington has no real enemies to the North*.  

“I can’t imagine many people come this way,” Chloe ventures.  “It’d make a good hideout.”

Davron points to a few stones on the ground.  “They were dragging her at this point.  The stones must have scratched her feet, because there’s more blood, and it’s been smeared.”


*there are no settlements at all to the North for several hundred miles until you reach the mountains, under which is the Dwarven Landhold.  The Landhold and the Empire have a shaky peace, though because Millington was originally part of the Landhold, it might or might not be considered friendly to that city.  Beyond the mountains lies Axiardalon's Waste, and no mere wall could protect Millington from the Great White Wyrm.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Zara's conversation...*

Whatever the contents of the room, they seem to be frustrating Zara’s attempts to localize the source of the voice.  “Who are you?”  Zara asks, confronting the problem in true Zara-style.  “What is this place?”

“Who is anyone, really?  Who are you?”

Zara’s mouth tightens, annoyed at the redirect.  “I am Zara, of the Order of the Crescent Moon.”

“It was a rhetorical question -- You’re going to die soon anyway.  Then you’ll be even more a slave than you are today.”  With this, the voice cackles slightly.

“I am no slave, and at least _I _ know who _I_ am, Nameless One.  You are only a piece of talking darkness.”

The mirth, if that’s what it was, drains from the voice.  “I’d never expect a closed-minded follower like you to understand how much more I am than that.  I’m more than... well, suffice it to say that I’m not the one who’s tied up... waiting to die, am I?”

Zara’s nostrils flare.  “I do not die so easily.  If you are free, prove your worth and release me.”

“I don’t think so.”

Her eyes squint, still trying to see in the gloom.  Certain now that the voice is no ally, she growls, “then untie my hands and fight me honorably!”

A contemptuous snort erupts from somewhere close.  “Nice try, but I don’t care a Manticore’s tail about honor.  If it matters any, though, I’m certain you’re dying without it...” he pauses, “and soon, too.”

Zara growls.  “If you are going to try to kill me, what are you waiting for?”

“Who said I was going to kill you?”

Zara works her wrists against the tight cords binding her hands.  Something about the voice is irritatingly familiar.  “You said--”

“—I said you were going to die.  I didn’t say I was going to kill you, did I?  I’m just going to watch.”

_He talks about himself too much. _  Zara’s eyes narrow.  “I know you, little man...  Little coward!  Show yourself!”


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Chloe and Davron prepare to storm the barn*

Chloe watches the four guards in front of the set of large, wooden doors to the barn.  “If those are slugs covering the entrance,” she whispers, “we’ll need to defeat them swifly and quietly.”

Davron’s eyes don’t leave the guards either.  “I have my bow, but the slugs in the past seemed very durable.  Any one of them could take several arrows.”

Chloe bites her lip.  “Even if I had good, splashy spells today, they’d surely make enough noise to alert those inside.”  She loads her crossbow carefully.  “I’m not a very good shot with this.”

Davron nods.  “They probably have an alarm bell or something just inside... and all they have to do is take cover behind those doors.”

The four men stand like statues, watching the area carefully.  Chloe blinks.  “It doesn’t matter... their telepathy, or whatever, is sure to alert them when we attack.  Maybe we shouldn’t bother being quiet.”

Davron closes his eyes for a moment.  “Then we should expect lots of reinforcements almost immediately.  Chloe, I have faith in you, but I don’t think we can do this.  We need help.”

Chloe searches the air for answers.  _There were a whole crowd of enemies!  How could the mere two of them prevail against such a throng?  We can’t spare the time to go for help... who knows what they’re doing to Zara in there?  _ She looks up into the sky, pleading for a solution.  _I’m not afraid to die... but isn’t there any other way? _  “If only Effrem were here,” she whispers.

“We shouldn’t linger, Davron,” Chloe concludes worriedly.  

Davron exhales with a look of resigned calm.  “Alright.  I’ll take aim at the man closest the door... maybe if I can drop him, his body will block the entrance and make it harder to take cover behind it.”

Chloe nods.  _Assuming the door opens outward. _  “Sounds like as good a gamble as we’re going to get.”

“I can only hope they make a run toward us with those longswords*,” Davron continues.  “They don’t look like archers.”  Indeed, no crossbows or other ranged weapons can be seen upon the guards’ belts.  His face betrays what’s going through his head though: _...but the prudent move would be for them to take cover._

Chloe smiles.  “They don’t seem to mind sacrificing themselves or their comrades, so charging headlong toward us might be their chosen response.  We should be ready for that.”

“Sure,” Davron nods.  “I’ll take any good fortune that comes my way.”

Chloe nods back, and kneels.  Looking up expectantly at Davron, she holds her hands out, empty and palms facing him.  After a moment, he kneels with her and takes her hands.  She closes her eyes and raises her face to the sky, her lips whispering a prayer in haste.

* Davron at this point was a Ranger trying to further improve his two-weapon fighting.  Although he's plenty savvy with a bow, he's most effective in melee.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 5, 2004)

*Zara's Tormentor Revealed*

“Hah!  You remember me!”  The taunting voice is close now, its source seemingly level with Zara’s head as she sits bound to the chair.  “Truly, I wondered how you could possibly have forgotten...” When the hazy light finally illuminates the figure, it sparkles, as though covered in fine jewels.  Slowly, it resolves into a childish form carrying a child-sized walking stick.  “...my melodious voice?”

But to Zara’s eye, benefiting from her emerging memory of the spoken voice, the figure is that of a halfling.  A sadistic halfling from whom she and her companions had been accidentally parted deep beneath Millington.  The same sadistic halfling who had later abandoned his other companions in their moment of need while Zara herself could only watch.  “So, you now seek to betray me as you did Noella and Sonali, Milo?”

“I haven’t betrayed you, Zara,” the voice retorts.  “It’s you who’ve betrayed me... not that I feel like caring one way or another.”  He blinks, and his expression seems to grow severe.  “Maybe I do care.  You left us*, down there in that demon-filled maze!”

“We did _not _ abandon you!  We were cut off!”

“Mushroom milk!”  Milo exclaims.  “You hid behind the door when the invisible demons attacked!  You took Effrem with you, the only one of us who could have seen them!”  His eyes bore into her as his voice lowers murderously.  “I find that coincidence hard to believe.”

Zara growls at the halfling defiantly.  “What did you expect us to do?  We were trapped!”

“It’s a shame, really.  I rather liked Sonali,” Milo muses.  “I find it pleasurable to spend my time in the company of attractive women.  I suppose that’s why you killed them, wasn’t it, Zara?”  He frowns.  “Jealousy?  And I thought you were Noella’s friend...”

“I did not kill them—_you _ did!”  Zara wrenches at the cords around her wrists and legs, jerking the chair forward as she lunges ineffectively at Milo.  The chair wobbles and bounces, but doesn’t tip over.  

Milo takes a step back, putting a little more space between himself and the wriggling monk.  “Wasn’t me who abandoned them to their deaths, woman.  I was lucky to escape with my life.”

“_Liar!_  We watched you through the magic mirrors!  I saw you use your magic to escape when the attack began!”  The memory rises in her throat, bitter like bile, of Milo teleporting away, leaving Noella, Sonali, Korith Darkstone, and the crazed refugee to die.  “Your cowardice killed them all!”  She verily roars with hatred and frustration.  “Untie me so I can kill you!”

Milo smiles a smile that Zara can’t see, but can practically hear.  “No,” he says gleefully, though he keeps his distance from the enraged apparition who was once his companion.  “See, I’m going to let you stew in all that anger and frustration and then feed you to a good friend of mine.  Yes, someone I’ve met in the wandering months,” he gestures in the empty air between himself and Zara.  “...since you and last I parted company.”

Zara’s brown eyes flash like smoldering coals in the dark, her teeth bared in feral malice.  She says nothing but glares at her short opponent silently.  Her body stills as she forces calm upon herself, as though trapping a fierce storm of enraged hatred within the iron vessel of her discipline.

“You’re going to die without honor,” Milo says disappointedly.  “You could at least die with a smile...”

---
* Zara and Milo parted company in Chorok's ever-changing maze.  Zara's half of the party was investigating a room filled with magical scrying mirrors and Milo's was out in the hall (this was a tactic Milo himself suggested because he knew there were traps in that room and he didn't want to be in it if they were set off).  Invisible demons closed the door to the mirror room, which caused the maze to reconfigure itself.  In the blink of an eye, the room with Zara's party was moved randomly somewhere else in the maze.  Having no idea where they were, Zara and her party could only scry on their comrades with the mirrors.  Milo Dimension Doored out, abandoning his party-members to die outnumbered.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 6, 2004)

*The Attack on the Barn Begins*

As Chloe finishes her prayer, she nods to Davron and the two take up firing positions.  Davron draws his bow back while Chloe aims, each training on one of the four guards.  He exhales slowly, preparing to loose his arrow.

Without warning, the man next to his intended target is transfixed by a crossbow bolt.  The stubby projectile embeds itself in the shoddy wood of the barn with a soft crunch, and the guard’s neck sprays thick, black slime.  His body sags against the wall and is held up for a moment by the deadly instrument, but then the slug’s flesh rends, disgorging more chunky fluids as the body tears away from the bolt and flops to the ground.

Davron releases his arrow, which flies true, even as his victim turns to scan the area for his attackers.  The shaft pierces his stomach, evoking another black shower.  The man staggers, but does not fall.  Davron fits another arrow, impressed by Chloe’s skill in felling the first man.

A split second later, Davron hears the short spang of Chloe’s crossbow firing again.  This bolt strikes the man Davron just shot, but in the leg.  This makes a splintery crack-sound that the two can hear even at their distance as the bone shatters.  This time, the man does fall—not dead, but certainly bereft of a functioning leg.  Chloe wastes no time, and Davron now hears the clicks and ratchet-noises of her reloading.

“Nice shots!”  Davron exclaims under his breath, training on the third man.  “Both of them!”  He releases the next arrow, but the third slug evades it, having now spotted them.  

“Thanks,” Chloe mutters quizzically, “but I’ve only fired once...?”  

One of the two remaining slugs takes up a defensive posture, and the other silently turns his back to try and force the door open.  The door is blocked by the prone form of the disabled slug, who is now trying to drag himself out of that predicament without success.  The door remains blocked, and the man on the door suddenly sprouts two arrows and is enveloped in a momentary green aura before he staggers to the floor.  

A third arrow punches into the remaining slug’s lower chest, between the tough surfaces of his cured leather armor.  A similar, dim green flash issues from the slug’s body and chunky black slug-fluids stream from his wound, dribbling over the arrowshaft and its feathers.  The slug raises its sword, though it’s not facing Davron and Chloe, and effects what appears to be a half-hearted charge somewhere to their left before being cut down by another crossbow bolt.

Davron leans out into the stone street warily, seeking the slug’s intended target.  A ways across the stone-laden avenue is an adjoining alley.  And out of that alley steps Effrem, smiling and carrying his enchanted bow* calmly, followed closely by Andrew, who is pointing a crossbow in Davron’s general direction.

“Effrem, you’re alive!”  Chloe exclaims.  She stops short of rushing over to hug him, reminded of the still-living slug with the ruined leg.  

Effrem’s smile broadens, happy that Chloe hadn’t been eaten by slugs.  “Same to you, old friend.”  His eyes dart between Davron and Chloe, studying them.  Gesturing to Andrew, who is still brandishing the crossbow, he mutters under his breath, “Have you known the slugs to attack one another?”

“It could be a trick,” is Andrew’s response, still keeping the crossbow casually at the ready.  “We should be cautious.  Remember what I said...”

“Andrew,” Effrem replies, “they didn’t know we were here.  They wouldn’t have weakened their own numbers just in case you or I happened by... it’s just coincidence.”

Andrew’s eyes narrow.  “There’s no such thing as coincidence.”

Effrem seems to consider this.  He jogs over to the barn, where Davron and Chloe are already walking carefully, their eyes on the door for reinforcements.  “Where’s Zara?”  he asks.

Davron points to the door.  “In there, I think.”

Chloe’s head fakes toward the slug on the ground.  “_They _ snatched her.  I don’t know why.”  She whispers, “We thought they’d snatched you too...”

Andrew reaches into his jacket and pulls out a wicked-looking dagger with a curved blade that doesn’t shine in the sunlight, and walks toward the flailing slug on the ground.  Davron, seeing this, motions to the still-closed door with his bow.  “Reinforcements will be here any moment.”

Effrem nods in agreement and throws his back calmly against the wall to the left of the door.  Andrew, pocketing his dagger, is right behind him.  Chloe and Davron take up positions on the other side, she with her crossbow loaded, he with blades at the ready.

Nothing happens.

---
* Effrem's weapon, as enchanted and consecrated by Chloe, is a +2 Holy Mighty Composite Longbow.  To simplify game mechanics, I ruled that the holy damage inflicted by the arrows produced a visible effect on evil creatures.  So, whenever it hits, the target (if evil) is momentarily bathed in a green glow.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 7, 2004)

*Word of the Attack Reaches the Bad Guys*

“What’s happening?”  Milo demands of a much taller (human-sized) figure, who is moving as if in a hurry.  The man stops, and two or three other vague silhouettes gather next to him.

“We are...” the man begins.

“...under attack.”  one of the other silhouettes finishes crisply.  Zara notes that the two men’s voices seem dead and emotionless, yet also lack the halting manner to which she had become accustomed from the Slug-people.

“Oh really?”  the halfling asks, sounding more pleased than surprised.  “How many of them?”  He snickers and interrupts himself.  “Wait!  Let me guess... two of them?  An overdressed man and a... stuffy armored woman with a strange nose*?  So predictable.” 

Zara’s angry eyes narrow, as if she could project her ki from them and kill Milo’s silhouette from a distance.  _Could discipline be enough to kill him, or would he be immune to it**?_

“There are...”
“...four of them,” the two men reply.

“Oh.”  Milo’s voice projects toward Zara.  “Made some friends, have we?”

“They will kill you, Milo,” Zara growls.  “But only if they beat me to it.”

The sorcerer snorts loudly.  “We’ll see about that.”  To the slugs: “Describe them?”

“One male of...”
“...elf parentage, two human...”
“...males, and one human...”
“...female.”

“I wonder who our new friends are, Zara?”  Milo asks in a petulant, grating tone.  To the Slugs, he asks: “What are they armed with?”


*Milo is referring to Effrem and Chloe, whose unusually pointed nose is a family trait.  Milo has never met Davron or Andrew.
**Zara is Lawful Neutral.  Milo was a well-played Chaotic Neutral when he was with the party.  Zara hated Milo from day one, but kept her feelings to herself.  Milo knew it anyway and took sadistic pleasure in clandestinely hindering Zara's efforts to be civil.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 7, 2004)

*Them and Us, Them and Us...*

“Really, any second now,” Davron mutters.  “Reinforcements...”

Effrem shakes his head.  “Were we supposed to make an appointment?”

“Effrem,” Chloe ventures absently, her mind partially focused on tuning out the whispering voices.  “Do you hear anything inside?”

The archer puts his ear to the wood cautiously.  “Footsteps.  Lots of them... not hurried...”

“If they aren’t going to attack us,” Davron wonders, “what _are _ they doing?”

Andrew turns his head towards the wounded Slug, who is staring at them intently.  “Studying us.”

----

“...two of them carry loaded...”
“...crossbows.  They appear to be...”
“...waiting for us.”  Both slugs twitch a bit.  

“What?”  Milo asks, impatience evident in his voice.  “Speak!”

“They have neutralized the...”
“...part of us left outside.”

“You are next, Milo,” Zara chides intensely.  “Your blood will coat these walls when we finish with you!”

Milo’s shape seems to consider and reject this as a possibility.  “I don’t think so.  Gag her,” he says exasperatedly.  “And bring that scroll!  I think it’s time I brought in friends of my own.”


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 7, 2004)

*Outside...*

Chloe scowls at Andrew.  “Was that truly necessary?  He was defenseless...!”

Andrew shrugs and wipes the chunky black slug-blood from his dagger nonchalantly.  

Effrem answers for him, “Probably.  I’ll fill you in later.”  He gestures to the building.  “Andrew, do you know this place?”

Andrew shakes his head, still cleaning the blade fastidiously.  “Never been inside, but I know there’s no back door if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What about the roof?”  Effrem asks, looking upward excitedly.  The barn, though very tall, does not look especially sturdy.  

Andrew seems surprised by this question.  “What _about _ the roof?”  His eyes dart between Effrem and the front door, never straying to the roof.  “Ahhhh...!”

Effrem looks at Chloe.  “Do you have any cloud-walking spells today?  If I could get to the roof, I could shoot arrows down inside and keep people away from the doors long enough for the rest of you to storm the place.”

Chloe shakes her head.  “If I’d had _Airwalk_, I’d have used it for us to escape that crowd of people before, and we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Davron looks at the rickety wooden planks that form the building’s wall.  In many places, those planks have twisted, lengthened, or shortened with time, and seldom fit together, assuming they did at some earlier moment.  “That looks like a horrendous climb if you can do it quietly.”  He favors Effrem with a questioning expression.

Effrem slings his bow, at which point Andrew breaks into a wide grin.  “What?”  Effrem asks.  “Do you want to come too?”

The criminal shakes his head.  “Not for all the loot in the world, but you go right ahead.”  He gestures flamboyantly to the wall.  

Effrem nods around to everyone before reaching up to find a rude handhold in the gap left between two warped planks, their surfaces frayed and flaking away.  Lifting himself up, the archer eyes the surfaces above him, many of which are pocked and pitted as if they have been at points the objects of many woodpeckers’ affections.  He squints and reaches for another handhold, as quietly as he can.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 9, 2004)

*Meanwhile...*

“Yes… hold the torch,” Milo snorts.  “Don’t burn me, you fool!  Hold it steady!  Right there.”

Zara’s flashing eyes study the Halfling and his two unnatural attendants.  Below her eyes and flared, angry nostrils bites her mouth upon a bitter, chalk-tasting fabric tied taut in her jaws.  Her throat, hoarse beyond her dry lips, growls quietly as she slowly and carefully tests her bonds.  

The gag is extremely tight, and as such very painful.  Milo took great enjoyment in watching the slugs tie it on her.  _I will make him hurt equally, she vows silently, when I escape._

In the recently improved lighting conditions, Zara can see Milo much better.  He appears more or less as she last saw him in the maze, though his outfit has grown even gaudier.  The Halfling is leaning upon his rod like a staff and squinting at a long scroll being held before him by one of his slugs, who is kneeling.  As she notes the heavy-looking broadsword at the kneeling slug’s waist, her eyes narrow in recognition.

The other slug is standing behind Milo, holding the torch down by the Halfling’s head at a specific height which the two had spent several minutes negotiating in painstaking detail.  Most of this time was used by Milo berating the slug for not following his vague instructions to his satisfaction.  The slug said nothing but attempted dumbly to comply.  This second slug has a pair of hatchets strapped to his chest with loose, leather belts of expensive make, which match his leather shirt.  

Biting the fabric in concentration, Zara works the cords at her wrists slowly, methodically.  She feels their surfaces scrape her skin painfully, but both the cords and Zara’s discipline hold.  Unfortunately, Zara’s captors seem quite knowledgeable about bondage.  So, she tries her ankles, slowly…


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 9, 2004)

*Beyond the Door...*

Andrew listens carefully at the door, before nodding around at the others.  Davron steps in carefully next to him, blades in hand, and prepares himself to meet whatever is on the other side.  The two men watch each other carefully, neither entirely trusting the other.  

Behind Davron, Chloe reviews what remain of her granted powers for the day again, still not confident that she’s got anything useful prepared for this.

Davron nods to Andrew.

Andrew promptly nods back.

Davron squints, the skin between his eyebrows wrinkling unpleasantly.  His lips part slightly in an ugly expression of exasperation. 

Andrew holds out his arms and shrugs, shaking his head in apparent confusion.  “What?” he whispers.

Davron gestures violently to the doors with his shortsword.  

“You’re not expecting me to open those, are you?” Andrew whispers hastily, one eye staying on the left door.  

Chloe exhales a gasp of affrontery.  Davron glares and waves one blade menacingly at the criminal.  His thin lips sputter incoherently, too flabbergasted for words.

“Open the door, you buffoon,” Chloe hisses icily, mystic syllables flowing into her mind as she prepares to cast.

Davron grits his teeth and Andrew, with some hesitation, reaches for the rusted iron handle, which is warped and worn by time.  The frayed wood beneath the handle is stained grey-brown with minerals long since leeched from the metal above it.  Andrew’s bare digits close over the handle, his palm slightly cushioned by fingerless gloves.  He looks to Davron.

Davron nods exaggeratedly, and this time Andrew throws the door open violently, jumping away from it with great haste.  In his (and the door’s) wake, a dozen slugs stand poised with weapons raised: morningstars, hammers, and various polearms.  Davron shrieks an unintelligible battlecry and sets upon them.  

Behind him, Chloe waves her hands and palms the sun-symbol at her belt.  Raising it before her, she chants a few rapid syllables, gathering energy to herself.  The symbol glows dimly, then flares brightly before focusing into a pale orange beam that stabs over Davron’s shoulder and into the dark room beyond him.  

Several of the slugs duck, but most are caught unaware as Chloe waves the short-lived beam around their number*.  Several slugs are burnt, though none of them badly.  Most noticeably, though, she does manage to set several of the slugs’ clothes and hair aflame.  

Davron’s swords strike out immediately against the slugs, and within moments produce a multitude of deafening clangs that are followed by ringing song as the blades echo off parrying weapons and occasionally bite into soft flesh.   The ranger presses into the clot of enemies, slicing viciously and mercilessly into them.  Chunky black fluid sprays out onto the street, mixed with no small amount of Davron’s own blood, for he is not alone in his skill with a blade.

Davron crouches under a slug’s outward swing, stabbing upward with his shortsword without looking.  The blade hesitates a moment, then sinks in and is just as quickly withdrawn, producing a sluice of warm dampness along the warrior’s arm.  Davron whirls around, the longsword in his other hand held high to deflect an overhead slash by the next-nearest slug.  To his surprise, though, his adversary’s body falls back and away from him, an arrow protruding from its head.

A fading green aura around the body announces to Davron and Chloe that Effrem’s firing position on the roof is as good as they’d hoped.  

* _Searing Light_, instance best described by Paranoia's _Firing into a Crowd_ rule: "if a shot misses, it had to have hit somebody."


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 10, 2004)

*Milo's Plan and its Effects*

“Many of…”
“…us have been…”
“…extinguished.  Finish…”
“…the spell.”

Milo continues to chant, reading off the strange, leathery scroll in the flickering torchlight.  He waves his hand dismissively behind him, obviously not needing the distraction.  Zara notes this and smiles slightly.  Her knowledge of magic is limited, but she has seen Chloe use scrolls enough to know that Milo’s exaggerated care isn’t normal.  

_His concentration falters—the scroll’s magic must be greater than his ability. _  She struggles with her bonds, wondering what she can do to distract him, and what the consequences might be if she does so successfully.  Her ears prick up a little at the thought that she might have just heard the noise of swordplay.

Milo raises one hand, palm out, then closes his fist and makes a hasty “come-hither” gesture.  The other slug watches this but says nothing.  Milo’s hand then makes a scissor-like motion.


********


A dozen or so slugs back simultaneously away from Davron, weapons waving threateningly, but in obvious retreat.  Davron presses forward, but a warning word from Chloe and the opacity of the shadows inside slow his advance.  Distantly, Davron realizes that Chloe isn’t wearing her luminous amulet.  Crunching noises above distract him for a moment, but new-formed rents in the roofing material admit shafts of welcome illumination in the dark room.  Davron advances cautiously, followed by Chloe and (at a respectful distance) Andrew, who is methodically reloading his crossbow.

The slug mob retreats into the shadows, their footsteps echoing on wooden planks, but not receding very far.  Davron snarls at the darkness, but stands fast, not pursuing.

Chloe waves her hands in the air, drawing upon Pelor’s sparkling power.  She smiles, not having counted this granted spell among those she’d find useful.  _Forgive me, Radiant One, I should not have despaired. _  From the stylized, solar medallion in Chloe’s outstretched hand spreads a shaft of bright light.  The shaft opens out immediately until it emanates from every surface of Pelor’s Symbol, issuing unhindered even through the flesh of the priestess’s hand.  

The slugs, now visible through a doorway, recoil slightly from the blinding daylight streaming from Chloe’s hand.  Temporarily dazzled, they shade their eyes and back away.

Chloe, seeing their reactions, loses herself momentarily in her deity’s radiance.  A warmth spreads through her, from her heart out along her back, to the tips of her fingers and the small of her neck.  Taking a breath, she hears herself calling to them.  “Kneel!  Throw down your arms and beg redemption of the light!”  Her pale skin pinkens with inner warmth.  “Repent!  Repent your evil ways or scurry out into the shadows where you belong!”

Effrem, atop the roof, blinks in surprise at Chloe’s unexpected proselytization, but the calm warrior in him refuses to pass up the opportunity afforded by her illumination.  He hustles with remarkable stealth and grace across the shaky surface and kicks off a shoddy scrap of wooden roof.  The grainy plank emits a puff of dust, bits of rot, and old, rubbery tar originally used to seal it, then reveals another area from which to attack his enemies.

The archer kneels efficiently, and looses once into the opening without looking, relying only on his glimpse of the slugs’ locations before he moved to guide his arrow.  His aim is true, and below, a slug’s leather-clad chest sprouts the feathery shaft of Effrem’s memory.  Its skin radiates the green glitter of the arrow’s righteous wrath before the body collapses unbreathing upon the wooden floor.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 11, 2004)

*Zara, Milo, and More Bondage*

Zara smiles, certain now in the knowledge that she has heard Chloe’s voice.  She closes her eyes, focusing her ki and concentrating.  _There!_  Bending her legs back as far as they’ll go, Zara feels the bonds on her wrists loosen slightly.  Working all four limbs in careful concert, Zara verily arches over backwards so she can get enough slack to slip her left wrist free of the vicious wires.  

Her eyes never stray from Milo and his slug companion, whose combined attention is focused on Milo’s spellcasting.  Zara still can’t discern whether the spell is being cast correctly or not, but assumes that since the Halfling is still mumbling and reading the scroll, his mistakes (if any) must not be too significant.  Mindful of Milo’s distraction, she seethes quietly, ever closer to her revenge.

Still holding it behind her back, Zara flexes her left fist experimentally and feels sensation tickle back into prickly fingers.  When she’s adjusted to it, she carefully feels the contour of the wire around her wrist.  Probing the loops, she finds no knot.  _It must be tied at my feet._ 

The warrior tightens her right hand, flexing her wrist muscles alternately, feeling some of her flesh harden and expand, and leaving other surfaces recessed.  She methodically probes each surface, slowly turning the loops to align the bundles with soft spots on her arms.  These, Zara knows, will pass the comparably thicker portions of the bonds more easily than less yielding surfaces, like her wristbones or knuckles.

An abrupt change in Milo’s speech patterns captures Zara’s attention.  He takes a deep breath and waves his arms wildly, producing what at first appears to be a duplicate of himself.  Zara squints and, looking again, sees a shimmering oval shape hovering in the air before Milo.  The effect is very shiny, almost reflective, and is oriented like a wall-mirror suspended at a convenient height before the tiny man.

Milo speaks a single, incomprehensible word: “Eillenarthilax*.” In response the surface of the “mirror” seems to ripple and contort, darkening to blackness.  At first, Zara thinks that the mirror has vanished, but realizes under further scrutiny that it’s still there.  The effect is visible only because it is much darker than the surrounding air, like a hole in the darkness.

When Milo resumes speaking, it is in a language Zara realizes she can understand—the long hisses and snaps of the draconic tongue, which Zara learned during her training at the Crescent Moon monastery, so long ago: 

“_Mighty predator of the abyss, thy wings and spines are legend.  Thy dread maw consumes armies of the brave!   Thy flaming nostrils immolate the heroes of the world!  I call to thee in ritual from this sufficiently dark place with a meager sacrifice: a maiden pure to whet thy infernal appetites, and the promise of many more should I thy terrible favor merit.”_​He pauses and looks Zara up and down.  “You _are _ pure, aren’t you?  It seemed like a safe bet**.”

A distant hiss emanates from the darkness.  Milo’s face ripples and dances slightly to Zara’s eye and he looks at the orb.  He’s sweating, and Zara quickly realizes why.

It is suddenly very, very hot in the dark chamber.


* pronounced "ee-yell-enn-ARR-thih-lacks"
** Milo's implication is that Zara's looks preclude the possibility of her being anything but "pure", an insult that goes over Zara's head and also shows how little he really knows her.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 12, 2004)

*Battle-Chatter*

The slugs, now well-illuminated by Chloe, have mounted a fighting withdrawl to a room separate from the barn, with a much lower ceiling.  There they form a defensive line while those in back (protected from the adventurers) work on something attached to the floor.  

Davron advances into the doorway, his tar-dripping swords held at the ready.  Chloe is right behind him, shining her holy symbol at arm’s length for additional illumination.  Andrew, his back to the wall, keeps Chloe between him and the slug-front.  Behind them, Effrem climbs hastily down from his perch on the roof, not bothering to be quiet this time.   

Davron and the slug skirmishers trade a few feints; neither faction ready to give up the doorway to the other and enable an advance by his opponent.  Simultaneously though, neither is willing to spend any time in the doorway (exposed to attack from all sides) to hold it.  This minor architectural feature is simultaneously a tactical weakness and a strategic necessity.   

Behind him, Effrem steps off the wall and readies his bow, rushing carefully past Andrew to train an arrow at the mob of slugs swinging and jabbing at Davron.  When he reaches Chloe, he looses an arrow into the mass of bodies, being rewarded by a green flare within.  With this, the slugs back away, reorganizing to put polearms between themselves and Davron to slow his pursuit.

Chloe steps in behind a winded and bleeding Davron, brandishing her Morningstar to aid him in beating back the halberds and poleaxes.  “Don’t falter now, Davron, we have them on the run!”

Effrem, advancing slowly enough to carefully fire a few arrows over his two compatriots’ shoulders, is more skeptical.  “I’m not so sure, Chloe.”  He pauses to train on a slug who is moving fast behind and parallel to the skirmish line.  With a twang of Effrem’s bowstring and an emerald flash of sanctified energy, the slug crumples over and disappears behind the wall of bodies.  “This seems almost too easy.  They outnumber us at least ten to one—why are they retreating?”

“It’s a trick, obviously!” calls Andrew, firing his crossbow from behind the cover of a moldy support beam.  “Your friend is dead and they’re luring us into a trap!  We should retreat and fight them later, when we’ve had time to form a more effective strategy!”

“No!” Chloe calls in a voice with equal parts desperate hope that Zara lives and angry disgust at Andrew’s willingness to give up so easily. 

“She’s dead, woman!”

Davron parries the broad swing of a poleaxe with both swords crossed.   Over his shoulder he frustratedly utters, “A little help here?” before offering a quick (but ineffective) retaliatory stab.

Chloe blinks, her attention returned to the present.  “We’re not leaving without her,” she shouts angrily, “and that’s final!” Exhaling to calm herself after successfully fending off the urge to add “or her corpse” to the middle of that statement, Chloe summons Pelor into herself and heals several of Davron’s wounds.  _There are too many of them… eventually I’m going to drop my guard to heal him and they’ll skewer me._

Andrew’s expression is one of obvious disagreement, but he sees no reason to run (yet), so he keeps to his position behind the degraded timber.  

The foursome press (or blindly chase, from Andrew’s perspective) the slugs down a tight stone tunnel covered by a trapdoor, which the slugs had previously been working to expose behind the skirmish line.  Almost claustrophobically small, the shaft is a steep incline with old stairs carved into it.  This architectural feature proves to be yet another strategic mixed-bag for the party’s advance, because its close quarters negate the advantage afforded by the slugs’ polearms, but also hinders Davron’s ability to parry.  

The descent is made without any real blows landed by either side, with each concentrating on defense.  Andrew, still hindmost in the barn, elects to remain silent.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 18, 2004)

The sound of nearby swordplay speeds Zara’s wriggling, though she remains focused enough to continue working methodically and not give in to outright haste.  The slugs don’t seem to react at all.  Milo risks a look over his shoulder but quickly returns to the “mirror” split seconds before an unearthly sound fills the room.

At first, the noise could be mistaken for a prolonged rasp, like the pouring of many gemstones or coins from a steel chute into a rapidly filling barrel.  However, after a few moments of this, Zara recognizes variations in tone like the hissing of rough Draconic, but as if pronounced by a being who had not seen water for a hundred years.  But where those hisses would normally be broken by snaps or clicks of the mandibles there is instead a crunch like iron jaws crushing old bones.  

Though the reply is short, its crunch-punctuated hissing requires two full minutes to deliver: “_More than this bony wretch will my favor thee cost, wyrmling_.”

Milo pales noticeably, but holds his composure.  A spark of inspiration crosses his face, followed quickly by a devious smile as he looks over his shoulder again.  Speaking carefully and specifically, he hisses back, again in the tongue of dragonkind.  “_Then I thee offer the soft, pale skin of a maiden holy.  Surely the flesh of a priestess fair would this offer thy interests pique?_”

Zara’s eyes widen slightly at this.  _You are mine_, she thinks as she slips her left ankle free of the loop.  Not willing to risk the possibility that Milo might somehow gain the raspy creature’s “favor”, she decides to act immediately, despite being exhausted and having her right hand and foot still tethered to the chair.  In preparation for the exertion of battle, though, Zara makes one compromise.  She reaches carefully to her face and draws the gag from her lips.  

Flexing her quadricep, Zara slowly brings her freed left foot to the floor, whose dirty stone feels cool and damp to the touch in contrast to the warm air, but fortunately not slick.  Her other foot plants softly on the other side of the chair and she transfers her weight experimentally between the two, lifting the chair legs off the ground.  As expected, this constrains her movements considerably.  

In the gloom, Zara sees movement.  The torchbearing slug’s face turns toward her.  Hearing footsteps behind her, and seeing the torchbearer’s hand go for one of his hatchets, Zara erupts into motion.  She hurls herself forward with a jerky burst of energy from her calves, though the thrust is cut savagely short by the wire binding her ankle.

The slug, though not off-guard, is ill-equipped to defend himself against Zara’s bizarre lunge.  Twisting in the air as she moves, Zara swings the chair outward in a clumsy spiral before her free foot touches down.  Balancing fully on that leg, Zara throws all her might into a vertical leap.  Continuing her spin, Zara tilts off-axis and whips the chair around before the slug can draw his weapon.

Milo’s first inkling that something might be amiss is the sound of Zara’s wooden chair shattering against the slug standing behind him.


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## GodOfCheese (Jun 23, 2004)

His second clue is the deafening blast of what sounds like a hailstorm ricocheting off the floor of a gallows; a deeply hollow sound, increasing in intensity.  Shortly the noise begins to oscillate, as though the hailstones are falling in waves.  Zara, recovering her balance, hears the downpour coalesce into draconic sibilants, though these delivered in haste and with a kind of sadistic mirth: “_It does indeed!  But before betwixt us may a bargain striketh, best proveth ye capable to such maidens capture-- alone!”_

Milo’s eyes flare in frustration.  He bares his teeth and grips his “staff” with white-knuckled fury as he whirls to face Zara.  But the otherworldly voice isn’t finished yet:

“_But despair not, daring whelp!  However by this battle fare ye, know at least wilst thee thou garner remuneration most deserved…_” the cackle in the voice is now unmistakable as it concludes “…_for good or ill_!”  The sadistic laughter rings in the chamber as the “mirror” vanishes.

The Halfling raises the bejeweled cane above him, his voice heightening to a shriek.  “Kill her!”  He circles, shouting into the darkness.  “Kill all of them!” His words continue, but dissolve into gibberish to Zara’s ear.  As if to punctuate this, Milo waves his arms wildly and points in Zara’s direction.

Zara doesn’t need to know anything about magic to recognize a spell being cast when it’s being cast upon her.  Moreso, her memory of Milo’s spellcasting talents isn’t necessary for her to spot danger when she sees it.  Surrounded by the wreckage of her chair, and partially freed by its sundering, Zara rolls over and springs at the sorcerer with a bloodcurdling cry of frenzied exertion.

---

“I’m pretty sure I just heard Zara!” Effrem exclaims.  

Chloe, her hands poised in preparation to deliver more magical healing to Davron, replies, “Where?  Are you sure?  I can’t hear anything over all this swordplay…”

Davron whips his shortsword left and right to block repeated thrusts by the slugs further down the stairs, producing the resonating clang of blade-on-blade followed by myriad scraping sounds as the polearms are pushed into the walls, ceiling, floor, and each other.  “Sorry!” Davron calls over his back, not sounding at all apologetic.

“Ahead of you,” Effrem replies, ignoring Davron.  “Down below!  It sounded like one of her battle cries!”

“She must be fighting them even now!” Chloe gasps.  _Still alive!  Hold on, Zara!_

Effrem looks frustratedly at Chloe.  “Isn’t there anything you can do to get us past them?  She must be close.”

Chloe’s only reply is a look of exasperation, for it is Davron who responds vocally and angrily.  “Sorry!  I’m working as fast as I can!”  Slight pause.  “Do _you _ want to do this?”  As if in answer, though, the slugs fall back, and he pushes forward, allowing Chloe to follow him part way down the steps.   As the slugs’ front gives way further, the two adventurers march rapidly down in pursuit.

Effrem’s soft boot touches the first stairstep to join them, leaving Andrew by necessity to guard their backs.  “No thanks, Davron.  It sounds like you have that covered.”  He pauses.  “I think I’ll be joining you shortly though.”

A puff of greasy green smoke jerks Effrem’s attention from Davron’s back.  By its momentary sparkling weirdness, Effrem picks out the silhouette of a tiny black mouse, which is watching him intently.  The cloud dissipates almost instantly, leaving the room dark.  However, a shaky but familiar voice issues from the cloud’s locus.  “Think again, Effrem.”


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