# Sniktch's Story Hour - City of the Spider Queen (Updated 04/25)



## Sniktch (Oct 1, 2002)

How to even start?  My gaming group and I began to explore The City of the Spider Queen this weekend and had a blast, so I thought I would write it up and share our experiences.  I’d like to eventually go back to the beginning so I can introduce the characters and their stories, and how they came to be at this place and time, starting their long, dangerous trek into the Underdark.  Maybe I will soon, but I’d rather write this down while it is fresh in my mind.  BTW, my game is not set in Faerun – we just didn’t let it stop us.

Without further preamble, the characters at the start of our journey:

Welby Hilltopple – Male Halfling Barbarian4/Rogue3/Shadowdancer3
Welby is a fierce warrior of the Panther clan of halflings, a feral tribe that lives in the heavily overgrown Tangles.  When the Tangles were overrun by lizardfolk warriors led by a brutal half-dragon, the little folk of the wood scattered far and wide to avoid destruction.  Welby Hilltopple went north with his elderly grandmother, separated from the rest of his people.  His grandmother did not survive the cold winter, and the lone halfling continued until he reached Travensburg, where he fell in with his current companions.  Withdrawn and soft-spoken, Welby, despite his small stature, presents a grim and imposing figure with his penetrating stare and wild looks.  He typically dresses in a motley array of furs, skins, and feathers, and he has not sported a single hair on his head since he was kissed by a Vargouille in the ruins outside of Travensburg.

Stumpwater Jack – Male Dwarf Fighter2/Cleric of Clangeddin Silverbeard5/Templar3
Jack is a grim, dour, and unfriendly dwarf, even beyond those typical of his clan.  He hails from the cursed mines of Karaz-a-Garodok, and journeyed to Travensburg with his life-long friend Eli to search for a way to break the curse on his homeland in the old dwarven ruins found near that town.  Unfortunately, no remedy was found and Eli perished in the ancient mines, and Jack has grown increasingly unpleasant since that moment.  It is doubtful his companions would tolerate him were it not for the skill with which he wields his flashing axe.  A great enmity exists between Jack and Artimas, and to the others it seems only a matter of time before the two come to blows.

Artimas Sendant – Male Human Cleric4 of Arawn/Wizard(Necromancer)5/Master of Shrouds1
A self-proclaimed scholar and archaeologist who journeyed to Travensburg to study the nearby ruins, Artimas fell in with the party and joined them on their travels perhaps before they realized his true nature.  He is a congenial and friendly person, and it is doubtful any conflict would exist if not for his true vocation.  Although not an evil man, Artimas is obsessed with death and is a practitioner of the black arts and a follower of Arawn Lord of Death.  Although he tries to use his abilities for only good purpose, constant exposure to death and negative energy has had a slowly damning effect upon his soul.  Artimas appears to be a bespectacled, scholarly old gentleman with flowing white hair and moustache, and most never guess that he has not yet seen thirty years. 

Quinn – Female Dwarf Cleric of Dumathoin10
Quinn is nearly the opposite of Jack in demeanor.  She is quiet and compassionate and constantly looking out for the well-being of her friends and companions.  She and Grick were both trained at the great fortress-monastery of Mann to the east.  She was sent west to search for clues and signs of the great evil rumored to be growing in the lands and was led to the other companions by her dreams.  She has proved to be an invaluable ally and it is doubtful any of our heroes would have survived this long without her.  She is also a voice of reason and compromise in a diverse party, and her words of wisdom have prevented violence within the group several times.

Grick – Half-orc Monk7/Drunken Master3
A hulking brute with a heart of gold, Grick is Quinn’s lifelong friend and bodyguard.  He was conceived to two loving parents, his father a once orc warlord who had long ago been converted to the teachings of the monks of Mann.  He entered the monastery for training at the age of 5.  Often bullied by other students due to his lack of wits and bestial appearance, he was befriended by the kind dwarf Quinn and became her constant companion.  Shortly after joining the rest of the companions, Grick discovered a new mentor and his greatest weakness: alcohol.  Taken under the wing of the great drunk fighter Maximillian Schent, he realized his great love of drink and natural orcish berserker traits.  Quinn worries about her old friend now, watching him plunge daily into deeper depths of inebriation while slowly abandoning all his life’s training and discipline, and hopes that a long absence from civilization and bars and taverns will help Grick to find his focus once more.  

Malobar – Male Elf Rogue7/Dungeon Delver3
A newcomer to the group.  Malobar is an expert locksmith and trapfinder who has been employed as head of security by Lord Bryson for several years now.  He is also an avid explorer and takes long vacations from the city to explore the ruins dotting the surrounding countryside.  Lord Bryson sent him to find a group of adventurers to investigate the recent drow raids and lead them to the Dorien Crypts.  He found our intrepid band just a couple of days away in the small town of Three Fords and convinced them to accept the mission.

I will have the details of our session as soon as I finish editing them.


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## Lazybones (Oct 1, 2002)

Looks interesting; I have to admit I wasn't looking for a new story hour (I'm already behind on the ten or so that I read), but I was curious about CotSQ and I liked the character mini-bios.  Good luck on telling your story; I'm sure you'll find an appreciative audience here.


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## Sniktch (Oct 1, 2002)

*The meeting with Lord Bryson*

Artimas awoke with a faintly throbbing headache.  Good lord, was he hung over?  He almost never drank anything stronger than herbal tea, he couldn’t imagine why he felt so bad now.  Oh yes, of course, the wine.  They had found that bottle of wine, almost 500 years old, and he had been unable to resist.  Well, certainly the others felt worse than he.

He rose slowly from bed, glancing at the open spellbook on the small desk.  It would be no use to try to study now, he would have to wait until his mind cleared a little.  Stumbling toward the chair, he grabbed his long robe and began to pull it on.  At least he had had the sense to undress before collapsing last night.  The robes reeked faintly of wine and sweat, but his clean clothes were in the wagon.  He could wait to change.  He ran his hands twice through his hair, sweeping it back from his eyes, placed his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and exited the small room.  The smell of eggs and ham wafted through the floorboards, making him slightly ill.  He caught his breath and turned the small ring on his right index finger.  Ah, well, at least he did not have to try to eat, the magic of the ring saved him that indignity.  

“Ah, you are awake at last, and the first too.  I was growing worried – we need to depart soon.”  Startled, Artimas turned and beheld a slender figure rising from a chair in the hallway.  A sullen elf with cropped black hair wearing non-descript leathers stepped forward, speaking to him.  “The horses have been ready for an hour.”

“Horses?  Depart?  What are you talking about?”  Artimas had a vague memory of the elf joining their revel last night, of a discussion, an agreement, but he could not remember now.

“We spoke of this last night, don’t you remember?  Were you really so drunk that you don’t remember?”  A slight sneer as the elf spoke.  He was obviously trying to hide his distaste.  “You agreed to come with me to meet Lord Bryson and speak of the drow activity on his lands.”

Behind the elf, a small bald figure suddenly emerged from the shadows, startling them both.  Welby slipped around the elf and stepped close to Artimas, whispering, “It’s true.  Malobar works for Bryson.  He asked us to come.  We agreed.  I will go.  The others sleep still.  I will wake them.”  Turning, the halfling stepped back into the shadows and disappeared.

Artimas turned back to the elf, Malobar.  “It does seem we have an arrangement.  Come downstairs with me and I will buy you breakfast while we wait for the others.  They probably won’t be long, except for Grick.”

It would be a little over an hour before they set out, Artimas being correct about the time needed to rouse the sleeping half-orc.  Before they left, he was re-acquainted with the discussion of the night before.  Drow had surfaced and made a couple of raids against the farming community surrounding the Broken Hills.  This was the first sighting of dark elves in this area for over a hundred years, and the lord of the barony was understandably concerned.  He wanted a group of seasoned adventurers to try to track the drow back to their lair and discover what had roused them.  

The trip back to Lord Bryson’s plantation was pleasant and uneventful.  The long winter had released at last the land from her grip, and the land was thick with the first lush carpet of spring.  Artimas let the horses run at their own pace, pulling the wagon along behind them, enjoying the cool air as it tickled his cheeks and tugged at his whiskers.  Soon enough the journey ended and they stood before the beautiful stone manor house.  Malobar knocked at the door and they were greeted by Lord Bryson himself, a huge bear of a man with curly black hair whose eyes lit at the sight of the solemn elf before him.  “Greetings, Malobar!  It is good fortune that you were able to return so quickly, for the drow have not been silent this past week.  Indeed, there was a raid just two nights ago, and I would have them ended.  But we will not discuss this here.  Come!” He gestured for them to follow.  “Let us go the parlor, and there speak of the task at hand in comfort, at least.”

Following the great lord as he strode away, they soon came to a pleasant room with great glass windows facing the northern hills and great cushioned couches turned to face outside.  Lord Bryson waited for them to be comfortable and for introductions to be made before speaking.  “I am sure Malobar has explained the reason I have sent for you – “

The harsh tones of Stumpwater Jack cut him off, drawing a vicious glare from the elf.  “Aye, he did.  Said you got some black weeds that need pulling!  Just point us the way and we’ll take care of it.”  Jack patted the long oaken handle of his axe affectionately.  “I’m not much fer talking about it, and me axe is anxious to get to work.”

Malobar started to respond but Lord Bryson cut him off with a wave and a shrug.  “Yes, very well then.  My scouts have traced the raiders back to an ancient burial site in the Broken Hills known as the Dorien Crypts.  These have been long rumored to be haunted, but I have never had trouble from that direction before and thus saw little point in investigating, so I know little about them.  There must be an entrance to the Underdark, though, hidden under the hill, that the raiders are using to gain access to the lands.  The task I would have you perform is simple – track the raiders back to their home and make sure that my people never face this danger again.”

“And what incentive would we have to carry out your wishes?” asked Artimas.

Malobar whirled upon him, “You dare address Lord Bryson in such – “

Lord Bryson cut him off, “Now, Malobar, I do not blame their asking, and was prepared for it.  I am ready to pay you five thousand gold nobles to accept this task, and I am also willing to equip you well from the library of clerical scrolls we keep in the manor chapel.”

Artimas turned and saw the others nodding.  It was a fair offer.  He turned back to Lord Bryson.  “Agreed.  If you will supply us with a map or directions to the crypt, we will depart in the morning.”

“I will do slightly better than that, Artimas, I will send Malobar with you.  Malobar, you must show these bold heroes to the crypts, and stay with them and help them in any way you can.”

Malobar nodded, “As you wish, my lord.”

That night the companions talked long into the night, unable to sleep, facing the old familiar butterflies once more.  Finally after the long winter of inactivity, they were going to face the unknown once again.  Tomorrow their adventure would begin.


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## Sniktch (Oct 1, 2002)

*Re: Lazybones*

Thanks, Lazybones.  I know what you mean - I am also far behind in reading story hours, especially since I just found them last month!  I'm glad you liked the bios, although my players have to take credit for them for developing such wonderful characters!  I hope everyone enjoys the story - we only play once a month so it should be fairly easy for me to keep on top of it (we play 3 times a month actually, but in 3 different campaigns).  Its been about 5 years since I tried to write anything so my pen may be rusty, so a lot of this story hour is me flexing my creative muscles again and getting into the habit of writing every day.  I hope to have the rest of the first session up in the next couple of days, then I may start another to go into the history of our party before we play again.


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## Skaros (Oct 1, 2002)

As someone who plays wizards routinely, I thought the first couple of paragraphs really gave put some life into Artimas.  Well written.

BTW, I hope you'll post some stats at some point.  I'm always interested in how interesting characters are constructed.

-Skaros


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## Sniktch (Oct 2, 2002)

*The adventure begins....*

Welby rose early the next morning, as he always did.  He turned to find the wraith-like creature that had become his closest companion hovering near, awaiting his bidding.  He preferred the shadow’s company, as he guessed he always had.  It was simple, guileless, and he could communicate with it without speaking.  He silently directed it to find something for breakfast.  “Just not chicken,” he thought, “Never chicken.”  He shuddered just a little.  Chicken had been his favorite food, and his friends had chastised him many times for raiding farmers’ hencoops.  It was just since they had fought that thing the others called a cockatrice, he had no stomach for it anymore.

The shadow soon returned and told him that some goats had been left out to pasture overnight.  Welby grunted and stepped over to the window, pulling it open and preparing to slip over the side, when he remembered.  They were going on a bigger hunt today, they were hunting the black elves!  He would wake the others before he ate.  They would want to get an early start.
____________________________________________________

No dream, no thought penetrated the thick fog of Grick’s mind.  He floated in complete oblivion, unaware of anything that should pass in the world around him.  Then the numbing shock and sudden pain as the blow hit him.

“Aaaaargh!”  He roared and tried to leap to his feet, but got tangled in the soggy sheet and went tumbling to the floor, dripping water.

“I’m truly sorry Grick, but the others are waiting.  Everything is packed.  They are anxious to start this journey.  And to be honest with you, so am I.”  Quinn’s voice piercing the painful fog.  “Besides, you can go back to sleep on the cart.”

“Everything is packed?”  he rasped, hating the dry croak of his voice.  “They packed the whiskey?”

“Of course, Grick,”  she sighed, and he heard her footsteps recede as she walked away.

___________________________________________________

Malobar was secretly pleased.  He had grown worried about his choice, watching the adventurers drink late into each night and rise late in the day, except for the wizard.  And the wizard!  His cart was full of horrors - the scuttling detached human hand constantly busy with some task or another, the chattering, grinning skull, and the things that stared back at him from those sealed jars!  No wonder the dwarf found him distasteful, though Jack was no fairer to the elf’s eyes.

However, this morning some of his fears were laid to rest.  He found them busy when he arose from reverie and ventured downstairs, loading the last couple of crates onto the covered wagon.  Even the half-orc was present, though bleary eyed and clumsy.  Perhaps this trip would not be a complete disaster.

___________________________________________________

The companions followed an old cart track running through the farmlands and surrounding wilds for about ten miles before reaching the Broken Hills.  As twilight settled over them, Dalomar guided them to a worn shepherd path that wound through the hills.  They passed several farmsteads as the darkness deepened, but the houses were burnt and empty, a silent testimony to the savagery of the drow.  Finally they reached their destination.

The trail rose toward an ancient graveyard overgrown with weeds and fallen to rubble.  The path ran between two well-built stone mausoleums that has weathered the ages and led at last to a niche carved into the hillside.  Just within, the stone doors of the crypt stood closed within a masonry alcove.

Welby reined in the horses and lept off the seat of the wagon.  He gestured at the two buildings, and the doors beyond, and turned back to face the others.

“Yes, Welby, I believe we should check the buildings first.  Best to make sure they are empty and no enemies remain behind us.”  As Artimas answered the halfling, he stepped down from the wagon and moved to a storage compartment built near its rear.  He pulled the compartment open, calling softly “Igor, come, I have need of you.”

The sound of rustling as it rose to its feet, and then Igor pulled its rotting carcass from the closet.  ‘Igor’ was in actuality the animated corpse of the party’s last thief, a man they had known only as the Mask.  They had picked Mask up in the capital, and he had been an effective party member until the battle with the dragon, until he turned upon them and stabbed Artimas in the back as the dragon fell upon them.  Jack hated the rogue even more than he hated Artimas, and he had turned and smashed the Mask in the ribcage with his great axe before worrying any further about the dragon.  After the battle, Quinn had raised Jack from the death that had claimed him.  Artimas rewarded Mask in a different fashion.  Now his festering corpse staggered from its compartment and took the burning torch being handed to it.  “Here, Igor, carry this and walk close behind me.”

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Malobar moved to inspect the entrances of the two mausoleums.  The larger of the two buildings had obviously been broken into at some point; chisel marks scored the door deeply.  The other however, did not appear to be disturbed.  In fact, a layer of plaster sealed the door except for a crack running along the bottom.  The door to the smaller building was also decorated with some sort of crest and some letters scored into the stone.  He looked closely, wiping dirt and grime from the letters.  “This is in the Ancient Tongue!” he called over his shoulder. “It says ‘Chahir,’ must be a name, and then ‘Together for Eternity.’”

Artimas stroked his whiskers thoughtfully for a moment.  “Chahir...means nothing to me.  We will inspect the larger building first, since it is already open.  Come, Igor, open this door for me.”

Jack stepped forward.  “This is wrong, we should not disturb the dead,” he growled.  “We are here to track the dark elves.  Let us continue to the main crypt and try to find their entrance within.”

“Nonsense, Jack.  There might be enemies within, we can’t leave them behind us unsearched,” came Artimas’ retort.  “Besides, we might find something useful.”

“Suit yourself, necromancer,” Jack spat the word.  “Don’t expect any help from me then if you find more than you expect.”

Artimas shrugged and turned to the larger mausoleum.  Oblivious to the argument, the stupid zombie had carried out its last command and opened the door.  Motioning for Welby to follow, he commanded the undead to enter and the pair followed it, searching the small area while the others waited outside.  They quickly discovered that this place had been used as a campsite many times before, and housed four smaller crypts whose occupants had been robbed of belongings long ago.  Artimas left the building and moved across the road to the other one, the zombie shambling behind.  Unable to force the door, Artimas ordered the zombie to break the door down, ignoring Jack’s heated protests until the door finally split and fell to the floor inside, bringing a cloud of dust swirling out into the night.  

The light of the torch dimly illuminated a small room thick with dust, bare of features other than two large sarcophagi rising from the floor.  Malobar could see the expertly sculpted features of a man and woman adorning the pair of coffins.  The room appeared undisturbed, but a vague sense of disquiet hung in the air.  The dust lay thick and heavy across the room, and then he saw, by the sides of each coffin, a small dark patch, like earth laying upon the stone floor.  

Malobar could feel the hair on his neck standing on end as he drew his sword and moved into the chamber.  He heard the soft tread of Artimas and the slow shuffling gait of the zombie as they followed him into the chamber.  He quickly motioned Artimas to wait by the entrance and silently crept further into the room.  He approached the closer sarcophagus when the air changed density suddenly and a man materialized from the air before him.  

The coarse looking man flashed him a grin that revealed a pair of wicked canines growing down and chuckled.  He heard a cry behind him and glanced back to see a second figure had materialized beside Artimas.  “Thought to rob the dead, did you?” the fiend laughed as it swung its fist towards him.  “Yeah, that’s what we thought we’d do, too.”


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## drnuncheon (Oct 2, 2002)

I don't think you have to worry too much about being rusty, Sniktch.

"They packed the whiskey?"

Is the hand Artimas' familiar, or something else?

I can't decide which character is my favorite, but I'd love to find out more about how Welby wound up as a Shadowdancer...

J


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## Sniktch (Oct 2, 2002)

*They packed the whiskey?*

Thanks, drnuncheon and skaros, I appreciate the praise.  

Skaros, I should be able to get the characters' stats posted by next week, and I'll be done with the first post by then.  I spoke with Artimas last night, and he's going to hand me a journal of all the group's early exploits on Friday.  Since we only play once a month, that'll give me something to write about in the interim.

Our group travels about in a traveling actors cart that they acquired after a disagreement with the actors, who were lycanthropes.  Artimas has turned it into his traveling lab, but they fill it with anything else they think they might need.  For Grick, that means several barrels of strong liquor so he doesn't need to worry about falling out of his stupor during an adventure.

The hand is one of several grim creations that Artimas keeps around.  Its simply a creeping claw that he keeps in honor of the Addams' Thing.  His familiar is a bat, Nibbler, that has kept to its cage quite a lot of late.  There is also Chatters, an animated skull that serves as his alarm ("Chatters, if anything approaches our camp start clicking your teeth"), and Igor the ex-party member, and a homonculous running around somewhere.


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## Sniktch (Oct 2, 2002)

*The battle with Chahir*

Artimas gasped in astonishment as the men appeared in the room.  He backpedaled away from the vampire before him, trying to keep Igor between himself and his foe.  He could see a deadly dance starting between Malobar and the other foe.  Then his ears picked up a rhythmic chanting from the back of the chamber, strange words that he could not quite comprehend.  He threw himself backward to avoid the clumsy punches of his opponent trying to concentrate on the strange cadence he recognized as spellcasting.  “Haste,” he thought as the spell concluded.  Immediately a second chant began, and this time his eyes widened in alarm.  “Lightning bolt!” he yelled, diving towards the open doorway.  “Vampires, help!”

Malobar threw himself flat and rolled aside as the crackling arc of electricity leapt through the air.  He felt his hair standing on end as the energy passed overhead.  It continued past him, tearing a great gouge from Igor’s side and sending the zombie slumping to the floor, its unlife spent, before catching Artimas in mid-dive and slamming him to the floor, gasping for breath and smoking.  Artimas pulled himself into a sitting position and began waving his hands and chanting in return, trying to fall into the words and flood the room with daylight.  The pain of his wound proved to be too much, and he broke off, his spell miscast and wasted.  Before he could rise to his feet a small form vaulted over him.  Welby leapt to engage one of the vampires, plunging his dull gray blade forward and feeling the satisfying impact as it bit deep into undead flesh.  

Malobar parried another blow and concentrated on the room around him.  There was obviously another foe, a wizard, and invisible.  His trained senses focused on the dust swirling through the room, the smell of his undead foes, anything that would help him locate the spellcaster.  Yes!  There, behind the sarcophagi, stood a third figure.  Malobar could see the dust swirl as the figure began to wave its arms, could hear the low murmer as the spellcasting chant began once more.  He caught another clumsy blow on his sword and twisted, sending the clumsy lesser vampire staggering past him.  Not looking back, he rolled forward towards the stone coffins and towards the most dangerous foe.

Quinn held back for a moment as Grick plunged into the room, turning to face Jack, who had not moved from his seat near the wagon.  “Are you coming?  It sounds bad in there.”

Jack shrugged and began packing tobacco into his pipe.  “Bah, I warned ‘im I weren’t to help if he disturbed the dead again.”  Raising his voice, he shouted, “Ya hear that, graverobber?  Enjoy yer reward.”  He turned away, refusing to meet Quinn’s stare.

Quinn shook her head in disappointment and disbelief, then grasped her holy symbol and prepared to enter the tomb.  Two more blinding bolts of crackling energy tore through the open doorway past her, then a burning figure in black robes stumbled out and fell into her arms, weakly coughing blood.  She laid the tortured figure of Artimas upon the ground and fell within her prayers, calling the healing warmth to her hands that she might save his life.  

Malobar stayed crouched behind the sarcophagus, watching as two more arcs of lightning flashed across the room.  The agile halfling and swaying half-orc both easily dodged the spells, but Artimas had not been so lucky.  The bolts sent him twitching and dancing right out of the doors.  He pursed his lips and hopped to the top of the stone block before him, quickly tumbling along its length and scoring a stinging hit on the invisible mage.  The figure stumbled backwards, then turned and began crawling up the wall!  It must be another vampire.  Malobar fumbled with his pouch for a moment before pulling forth a vial of whitish liquid and quickly swallowing it.  As the potion of spider climb took effect he scuttled up the wall after the retreating mage.

Quinn relaxed as the healing power flowed from her hands and she saw the color returning to Artimas’ face as his wounds began to knit themselves together.  She kissed her holy symbol, giving Dumathoin quick thanks, then moved to the mausoleum entrance again.  Grick and Welby hacked with their swords at their opponents, and both appeared to be unharmed.  Malobar hung from the wall by his feet and one hand, swinging wildly at the air.  She thrust her holy symbol towards Grick’s opponent and yelled, “By the power of Dumathoin, begone, foul creature!”  The undead let out a wailing howl as the wrath of her god descended upon it, reducing it to a fine ash that mingled with the dust swirling through the room.  At the same time Welby hacked at his opponent once more, and the vampire dispersed into a fine mist as his blade struck home.

“The wizard is invisible and crawling across the ceiling!  Help me!”  All eyes turned to follow Malobar as he crawled, across the ceiling now, still stabbing furiously at the air.  A spray of stinging bolts leapt from mid-air and thudded painfully into the four heroes now in the room.  Grick roared and leapt onto the wall, using his enchanted slippers to charge into the fray.  Welby dropped to his knees and began rummaging through his pack.  Quinn fell into prayer again, this time calling a ray of pure light that she sent in the direction of the magic missles’ appearance, which hit nothing before scoring a blackened groove in the stone.  Meanwhile Artimas stepped back into the room beside her and added a spell of his own, trying to cancel the effects of other spells in the room.  He felt his counterspell knock down two of the wizard’s defenses, but unfortunately the being remained invisible.

Malobar heard the vampire cursing as its movements abruptly slowed, and then he heard a voice in his mind.  “Serve my will, elf.  Kill the wizard, and all those who dare oppose me.”  Malobar stiffened, trying to resist the attack on his mind, but the assault continued.  Although the mental battle took only seconds, it felt like hours to the rogue, and sweat began to drip down his face.  Finally, he could not resist the powerful will brought against him, and he leapt from the ceiling, his glittering blade flashing towards Artimas as he fell.

Grick saw the elf fall from the battle and begin attacking Artimas, and stopped, confused.  He had lost track of the opponent!  He tensed, waiting for a sign of his enemy’s presence, and then heard the chant resume from one of the far corners of the room.  He ran towards the noise as another forked tongue of lightning slammed into Quinn and Artimas, slashing at the empty air and hoping to make contact.  A laugh came from his side, and then, as he furiously tried to catch the taunting noise, six arrows of acid streaked through the air and impacted, one after the other, into the armored figure of Quinn.

Welby finally found what he wanted in his pack and stood, a glass vial in each hand.  He went into a blur of activity, pulling the stopper from one vial after another and sending the blessed water splashing through the air.  Most of it fell to the ground or soaked the furious half-orc, but one splash of water struck another figure, and the air was filled with a howl as smoke began to rise from the point of impact.

Artimas fell away from the furious attack of Malobar, holding his side where the elf’s magic weapon had opened a wicked, bleeding wound.  He pulled a wand from his belt and waved it at the elf.  No effect.  He expended more energy from the wand, ducking to avoid a whistling strike, and this time the magic took hold.  Malobar froze, held by the magic for a little while, at least.  Artimas turned and staggered towards the slumping form of Quinn.  Above him the battle raged in full on the ceiling, Grick now tracking the creature by the smoke from its wounds as Welby still furiously splashed holy water into the air.  He bent to examine Quinn’s wounds and found that the acid had done grevious harm, eating through her armor, clothing, flesh, and muscle to expose the flesh of her ribs.  “My turn, my friend,” he muttered, then fell into prayer to Arawn.  “This one is not ready to journey to your realm, mighty lord.  Grant me the strength to heal her wounds so that she may help to send the cursed spawn back to your bosom.”

Quinn grimaced as the healing energy mended the burnt hole in her chest.  She opened her eyes once more and took stock of the battle.  Artimas had collapsed beside her, blood seeping from the cuts he had received from Malobar.  Grick still ran about the ceiling, roaring in pain each time another volley of silver darts materialized and blasted into him.  Welby turned to her and shook his head, all of his holy water expended.  Quickly she knelt by Artimas, healing him again so that the enchanted wounds would stop bleeding.  Then, calling upon her god to consecrate the crypt with holy energy, she turned and scanned the ceiling for the smoking, still invisible vampire.  Finding him after a few seconds, she rose her holy symbol and focused her will.  “Dumathoin, grant your servant the strength to vanquish the unholy!  Return this evil man to the death he has cheated!”

The vampire fell from the ceiling, suddenly visible and shrieking.  She advanced towards it, brandishing her holy symbol, and it dispersed into a small cloud and sank into one of the sarcophagi.  The room fell silent once more, the friends, exhausted by their victory, collapsed to the floor and did not move for several moments.  Then they rose, weakly congratulating each other, and started into the chores that winning brings.

Grick toppled the engraved slabs from the two sarcophagi, shattering them on the floor.  In each they found a vampire deep in torpor but rapidly healing from its wounds.  Artimas stepped forward and handed Grick two wooden stakes, then turned and left the tomb.  After Grick staked the two vampires and ensured their second death, the companions found several sacks of coins in one of the coffins.  Artimas returned with a disgusted look on his face.  “Jack fell asleep.  He’s out there sleeping against the wagon with his pipe in one hand.  What a waste.”

“We not share with him, then,” stated Welby as he started to lift a heavy sack.  

Artimas stopped him.  “Allow me.  Come, my servants, carry these sacks to the wagon.”  Four skeletons marched into the chamber, their bones gleaming in the moonlight, and began to lift the bags from the coffin and carry them from the room.  The companions’, used to these silent minions by now, searched the rest of the chamber, looking for anything they had missed.  Malobar approached Artimas, who was kneeling over the still form of his servant Igor.

“My apologies for wounding you, Artimas.  I did not mean to cause you harm.”

“Don’t think of it.  You had no control over yourself – the vampire dominated your will.  Come, it is nothing to be ashamed of.  Few have the strength of mind to resist a true vampire, especially one so ancient.  If you had truly meant to harm me, you would share his fate.”  He gestured towards the fallen Igor as he said this, then bent and placed hands upon the rotting carcass.  “Arawn, renew the tide of unlife.  This one has not yet paid in full for the suffering he caused.”  Artimas bent and placed a small onyx gem in between Igor’s ruined lips, then began casting a spell.  As he finished, the remains of the Mask trembled and twitched, and then the zombie struggled slowly to its feet, reanimated once more.  Artimas picked up the fallen torch and handed it back to the zombie.  “Come, Igor.  Follow me.”

They left Jack sleeping by the wagon, guarded by the four skeletons, and then together, they approached the doors leading into the hillside.


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## Sniktch (Oct 2, 2002)

*Entering the crypts*

Malobar approached the doors first, the others a couple of steps behind.  The thick stone doors were set deep into the hillside with a masonry arch, supported by two stone columns carved to resemble two skeletal warriors in full plate armor, their visored helmets open to reveal their leering skulls.  Malobar shuddered as he passed between them, then knelt by the door to inspect it closely.  After a few moments, he turned back to the others.  

“These doors are locked somehow, from the inside.  However, they are heavily damaged – someone has tried to force their way in the past.  A strong blow may be enough to gain us entry.”

Grick stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.  He stretched for several moments and then applied his weight to the door in a sudden push.  He could hear the rattling of a chain from the other side, but the door did not give.  

“Focus your ki, Grick, remember?  You can do this.”  Quinn’s voice, soft, encouraging as always.  This angered Grick somehow – why was everyone always telling him to focus, and don’t drink too much, and try to relax, and all the other inane questions they pelted him with every day.

He whirled to face her.  “I have found a better way,” he growled, pulling his flask from the top of his boot.  He uncorked it and lifted it to his lips, feeling the delicious burn as the whiskey poured down his throat, feeling his power increase as the liquor warmed his body.  “Hraaaar!” he yelled and threw himself at the door again.  This time he heard a snapping and popping sound from the other side, and the door flew inward.

A carved stone tunnel, ten foot wide, stretched away from him.  Just inside the door he saw five moldering corpses, black skin rotting away to reveal the tissues beneath, white hair fanned out upon the floor.  These were dark elves!  Welby pushed past him, gesturing down the tunnel, sending his shadow to make sure no enemies waited near.  Then the halfling began to inspect the corpses, bald head shining in the torchlight as it bobbed up and down over the fallen drow.  He stood up after a few minutes and waved the others over.  He held a small arrow in his hand.

“Drow did this.  Drow killed drow, see arrows?  Why drow kill?”  His small face crinkled in confusion.

Artimas approached him.  “Do they ever need a reason, Welby?  Drow kill each other all the time – these were probably from a rival house or rivals within the same house, and the other drow took the opportunity.”  Artimas winced, still feeling the pain of the wound across his side and aching all over from the repeated magical attacks.  “Now, come, move away and let me see the bodies.  I am sore all over and would like it to stop.”

Welby stepped away from the bodies.  He turned and started down the tunnel to a door he saw, motioning the others to follow.  He saw that only Malobar turned back to glance at the mage.  Of course, he did not know what to expect, he had never seen this before.  Welby watched the elf’s face, and grinned to himself when he saw the sudden flash of horror cross the delicate features as he jerked his eyes from the sight.  Yes, Artimas’ grim feast was never a pleasant sight.  Best to distract him.  “Hey elf, door here.  Search door?”

Malobar was relieved to be distracted.  “Yes, of course.  I will be right there.”

The door was plain and unadorned, and led to an empty chamber with four niches carved into the wall.  They gave it a cursory search but found nothing.  Apparently the crypts had been abandoned before this chamber could be put to use.  They continued down the hallway, following it as it turned sharply to the right, and came upon two more doors.  One lay just around the corner, while they could see the outline of the other on the edge of the torchlight.

The first door had been obviously broken into at some point.  Malobar pointed to the edges of the door, scratched and gouged by the chisel that had removed the plaster.  Artimas motioned for him to step aside, then pushed his zombie forward.  “Igor, open the door.”  They tensed expectantly as the door swung open, the stone scraping against the floor, then relaxed.  Igor’s torch revealed a rectangular chamber empty except for two rows of sarcophagi, one along each of the long walls.  “Igor, enter,” commanded Artimas, then fell in step behind his shambling charge.

Suddenly a flash of light blinded them as a glyph was activated on the floor of the room.  Blinking rapidly to get rid if the spots, they saw that two enormous glowing lions had materialized in the room.  The first swung its paw towards Igor and the zombies head was knocked from its shoulders, the carcass losing its animating force and sinking once more into death.  The second lion bounded towards Artimas, seizing the mage in its jaws and bearing him to the floor, where its legs began to rapidly rake at his body, threatening to shred him completely.

Artimas screamed in agony and focused his will upon the spirit floor, calling his ghosts to his aid.  Two shadowy forms rose from the floor and grabbed the lion holding him in icy claws.  They were soon joined by a third as Welby directed his ally to join the fray.  The beast roared in pain and shrank from their cold embrace as Welby and Grick charged in and began hacking at it with their swords.  The thing appeared to be wasting away before their eyes, the muscles slackening and eroding even as their fine blades extinguished the light in its eyes.  The shadows released the corpse and floated towards the second lion, which tried valiantly to fend them off but found itself unable to harm the insubstantial spirits.  Welby and Grick rushed in once more, and Malobar entered the room with his bow drawn, filling the air with arrows.  Meanwhile, Quinn grabbed the bleeding mage and pulled him into the hallway, falling over him and once more invoking the healing power to draw his torn flesh together.  

Artimas rose again as the second lion fell, its corpse melting away as it settled to the ground.  He shook his head when he saw the zombie, then picked up the head and carried it back to the body.  “Oh, but this is going to take time, now.”  He pulled a needle and thread from a pocket of his robes and began stitching the lumpy mass back to its body.

The others moved past him and began examining the contents of the stone coffins.  Thankfully, they found no restless dead in this crypt, and even found some treasure within one of the sarcophagi.  The moldering skeleton had a gold torc fastened around its neck and gripped a finely wrought spear in one hand and a slender willow branch in the other.  Quinn muttered a quick prayer as she examined the treasures, then nodded to the others.  “The spear and wand are both enchanted.”  She grabbed the wand and stuffed it in her belt and Welby picked up the spear.  Finding nothing else in the room, they returned to the hallway and waited for Artimas to finish his grisly task.

Artimas spoke to the head as he fastened it back to its body, “No, my friend Mask, you do not escape me so easily.  I will use this shell of yours until nothing remains.”  Finishing the task, he placed an onyx gem between the lips and raised his voice.  “Lord Arawn, your servant still has use for this empty shell.  Renew the tide of unlife once more.”

The zombie shuddered into motion as it was reanimated once again.  Artimas handed it the torch and then stepped into the hall, Igor shuffling behind.  The group moved down the hall to examine the next door.  They stopped in a semi-circle in the hallway, immediately seeing that this door remained sealed after all these centuries.  Malobar stepped forward to brush the dust off of the door, searching for crests or inscriptions.  As soon as his fingers brushed the door, there was a crackle and a flare of black energy, and Malobar cried out and fell back, unmoving.

“Death magic!”  Artimas cried.  He turned to Quinn, “Is he…?”

Quinn examined the fallen elf and shook her head.  “He survived, but barely.  I will bring him around, but I will have precious little healing left today.”

“Maybe we should rest now,” Artimas stated.  “I wish I knew what was behind this door, though.  Did we alert anything when he triggered the trap?”

Welby turned to the shadow slinking behind him.  “Go through door.  Tell me what you see.”  The figure disappeared through the doorway for a moment, then came back.  Its eyes flashed red at Welby, and he turned back to the others.  “Small room, more doors, stone lady.”

Quinn had meanwhile healed the stricken elf.  Malobar rose and inspected the door once more, careful not to touch it this time.  “Aha!  I see it, a little glyph, there.”  He pointed to a spot on the door and turned to Artimas.

Artimas stepped up and peered at the sigil.  “Yes, a powerful ward, designed to slay any creature that touches the door.  You were lucky to survive.  Still, if we could just scratch it out, we should have no further trouble in opening the door.”

“I can do that,” Malobar replied without hesitation.

“It will be dangerous,” intoned Artimas.  “If you are not careful you could trigger the glyph again.  It is doubtful you would survive another exposure to the effect.”

“Hah, it was for this I was born.  No trap can defeat me, once I know of its presence.”  Malobar pulled a short staff from his pack and pressed a button.  The staff grew to twice its length, and then he carefully moved up to the door.  His hand crept out, guiding the pole, and then with a sudden motion he brought the staff across the glyph, smudging the magical mark and destroying its pattern.

Artimas concentrated on the door for just a second.  “I sense no further enchantment.  It should be safe to open the door now.”

Malobar pulled a hammer and chisel from his pack and they took turns hammering at the plaster until it had all been scraped away.  Then Welby and Grick positioned themselves in front of the door and the burly half-orc pushed it open.  Inside was a small bare chamber thick with dust and obviously undisturbed.  Facing the door was an exquisite statue of a regal woman in a long flowing gown.  She stood facing the door in a commanding position as if demanding attention from the companions.  They stared at her for long, tense moments before deciding the statue was just that, and posed no threat.  Finally, Grick shrugged and took a step into the room.

The statue’s arm shot up to point at them, a vicious sneer pulling its carved lips tight.  An imperious voice resounded through the air.

“Who dares to despoil my tomb?  Leave now or face my wrath!”


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## Sniktch (Oct 2, 2002)

*Cliffhanger*

And that catches us up to the end of the first session.  I like to leave my players hanging, thirsty for the next session.  Unfortunately, that means I have to leave you, gentle readers, hanging as well.  We won't be playing this game again for another 3-4 weeks, but I plan on posting the character sheets, etc...

I'll post the next session as soon as we play again, and if Artimas and I can get our notes together we will start another thread to post the early adventures of the group.  I hope you all enjoy the story - we certainly had fun playing it!  (Except Jack, who actually fell asleep on my porch in RL after refusing to help fight the vampires - his loss, I figure)


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## Harp (Oct 4, 2002)

Now THAT was a fun read, ended all too soon.  Great characters, high adventure, and exceedingly well written.  I'm definitely looking forward to more.

Out of curiosity, did you see these characters all the way up from first level?


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## Sniktch (Oct 4, 2002)

*Welby Hilltopple*

Thanks Harp.  I promise more is coming, but I can only update this thread as often as we play, which is not enough I'm afraid.  As a matter of fact, we did see the characters up from 1st level - this game started just a couple of months after 3E came out.  The characters are only 10th level due to our slow speed of play and a short hiatus we took after their last fight, which was with HySharr, Wyrm of the Lake (from the WotC site).

Welby sent me his sheet today, so I can post him now.  This is as he was at the beginning of the adventure.  Here goes:

EDIT: character sheets moved to Rogue's Gallery


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## Bob Aberton (Oct 5, 2002)

Cool storyhour.

When you mentioned Artimas' "grisly feast," did you mean he was actually eating the dead?  Or did I take the wrong meaning from that?


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## Sniktch (Oct 5, 2002)

*Grim Feast*

Thanks, Bob.  Artimas was casting a necromancy spell called "Grim Feast."  I believe it comes from Relics & Rituals.  It lets the caster drain corpses' vital essence for a return in hp.


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## Sniktch (Oct 5, 2002)

*Artimas Sendant*

Artimas has had a charmed life, beginning with the roll for stats (we still roll 4d6 and discard the lowest die), which left him with 4 16’s, a 15, and a 12.  Poor guy.  This has continued with hp - I have never seen Artimas roll less than a 3 for a wizard advance or less than a 7 on a priest/master of shrouds level up, and I’ve watched every roll.  Some guys have all the luck, but we think he sold his soul for this one:

EDIT: Character sheet moved to Rogue's Gallery


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## Jinx (Oct 6, 2002)

*Quinn Hammerknell*

Quinn Hammerknell - Female Dwarf Cleric 10
Align: LG Height: 4'3" Weight: 156 Eyes: Green Hair: Dark Brown Age: 67
Str 14 Dex 8 Con 14 Int 12 Wis 21 Cha 6 HD: 10d8+20 HP: 90 AC: 21 (10 -1 Dex +11 armor +1 deflection) BAB: +7/+2 Init: +3 Attacks: Flaming Morningstar +10/+5 Dmg d8+3+d6(fire), Light Crossbow +6/+1 Dmg d8
Saves: Fort +11 Ref +4 Will +14 Move: 20'
Skills: Appraise +4 Concentration +15 Heal +13 Jump +4 Knowledge(religion) +14 Listen +8 Search +6 Spellcraft +4 Spot +8
Feats: Weapon Focus (morningstar), Improved Init, Spell Penetration, Extra Turning
Languages spoken: Common, Dwarven, Orc
Possessions: +1 dwarven plate of light fortification, mw large steel shield, +1 flaming morningstar, periapt of wisdom +4, vest of resistance +2, wand of cure moderate, ring of protection +1, silver holy symbol, bedroll, winter blanket, flint & steel, 2 light hammers, 1 flask of holy water, belt pouch, backpack, traveler's outfit, waterskin, 1 flask of acid, 1 tangle foot bag, 1900 gp, scrolls: divine power, detect thoughts, 3 restoration, 2 magic circle against evil
Spell DC: 15 + spell level
Spells per day: 0) 6 1) 6+d 2) 5+d 3) 4+d 4) 4+d 5) 3+d
Clerical Domains: Earth, Protection
Turn/Rebuke: 5/day, -2 check mod.


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## Sniktch (Oct 7, 2002)

*other characters*

Jinx, I'm pretty sure Quinn has +1 dwarven plate of light fortification and a +1 flaming morningstar, to be specific.

I got a sheet from Jack but it has several mistakes and a couple of omissions (like his domains and equipment!), so I need to talk to him before I post it.  I'm still waiting for Malobar to send me his, and Grick said he would post his own.  

I'm making remarkable progress in writing up the early adventures of our fellowship.  I've finished writing up our first session ever, which was all RP, but I will wait to start posting until I have the second session (our first actual adventuring) done before I start a new thread.


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## Jinx (Oct 7, 2002)

I've editted Quinn's sheet to be more specific about her armor and weapon. I also added a couple small items that I had previously overlooked.

Leave it to Jack to fall asleep in the middle of putting his information together, and to Malobar and Grick to procrastinate.

Good job on putting the adventure into words so far. Looking forward to next time!


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## Broccli_Head (Oct 8, 2002)

*praise!*

so far I really like the story. too bad  you guys don't play the game but once every 3 weeks.

I am really intrigued by the characters especially, Artimas & Malobar. 

I may have to also look up the Drunken Master prestige class!

Looking forward to more!

BH


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## Sniktch (Oct 10, 2002)

Thanks, Broccli-head.  I'm trying to move up our schedule, but a lot is up to Malobar, who runs one of our other campaigns.  He might be leaving town this weekend, so we may get to play two weeks early, anyway.

I started another thread to deal with the beginning of our campaign, and how the characters made it from level 1-10.  You can check it out over here. 

I have Jack's correct sheet finally - I'll post it as soon as I get home tonight.


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## Mr Fidgit (Oct 10, 2002)

hey Sniktch!

your link on the other thread doesn't link to this one (too many backslashes, i think)

just thought you'd want to know


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## Sniktch (Oct 11, 2002)

*Stumpwater Jack*

Good call.  The link should work now, it just brought me here.  

As promised earlier today, here is the 10th level Stumpwater Jack:

EDIT: Character sheet moved to Rogue's Gallery


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## Sniktch (Oct 11, 2002)

*Malobar*

EDIT: Character sheet moved to Rogue's Gallery


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## Milo Windby (Oct 11, 2002)

*Re: praise!*



			
				Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *so far I really like the story. too bad  you guys don't play the game but once every 3 weeks.
> 
> I am really intrigued by the characters especially, Artimas & Malobar.
> *



I'm with BH, great story hour.  

I too am curious about some of the characters, but more about the motives of the group as a whole.  Why does a LG cleric willingly ally herself with a cleric of death that has shown NE leanings?  I've always seen LG as an extremely limiting alignment that is generally compelled to follow a paladin-like code, albeit personal and self-motivated.  

Grick fascinates me as well.  I like the relationship portrayed between him and Quinn.  I have a friend in another game that wants to move into the Drunken Master PrC.  It's good to see the class RPed here.  I hope he follows the same path Grick has taken and actually puts motive behind his class rather than just taking it for the benefits.

I'm looking forward to more.  I'll have to go read your prequel now.


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## Sniktch (Oct 12, 2002)

*Lawful Good*

Well, conflict is an ever present factor within our party, and a lot of it has to do with the dynamic of two lawful good dwarves hanging out with a necromancer.  This shows up a lot more when Jack stays awake for the full session.  

Why does the party stay together?  We've always been of the opinion that alignments cover a fairly broad area, though, kind of like with real people.  Rather than allowing alignment to constrain us into a role, we use it as a general guideline as to what our character would do in a situation.  If I were to break them into categories, Quinn would fall into a "pure of heart" type of LG - compassionate, caring, tolerant of others' faults, and finding the good in everyone.  She can interact with Artimas on a friendly level because she sees the good in him, or the potential for good.  Jack, on the other hand, is a little more of a zealot, with a harsh personal code that is as unforgiving as it is merciless.  Really just two different shades of white, and who is to say which is brighter? 

Speaking of Artimas, he does not see his actions as evil, or where he does see his actions as evil he tries to counterbalance them with good.  The teachings of Arawn taught him that after death the soul goes to the Realm of the Dead, and the body is no longer needed or cared for.  The corpses he animates are tools to him, to be used to further whatever ends those with the power use them for.  This is not an insult to the dead, as they have departed long ago.  Intelligent undead are not tolerated by the church, and are either brought under church control or destroyed.  And yeah, sure Artimas uses Grim Feast, Death Knell, and other evil spells, but the way he sees it, that is counteracted by the fact that he uses them to destroy evil beings.

The party treads a fine line and has come close to open blows several times, but something has always defused the situation before it went to far.  Most recently they were all united by their hatred and fear of the deceased tiefling called the Mask, who used his hat of disguise and assassin skills to join the party and wreak havoc several times.  Without this common enemy, it appears that Jack and Artimas are headed for a confrontation again, although everyone else would rather just maintain the status quo.

EDIT:  I talked to Jack on the phone the other day and it reminded me of the whole alignment question.  I thought of a couple of examples of the LG character hanging out with a character with evil tendencies from popular fiction.  The relationship between Jack and Artimas could be compared with the relationship between Sturm and Raistlin in the Dragonlance series.  Later in the series, we have a totally different LG w/ Evil dynamic introduced in the form of Raistlin and Crysania.


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## Jameumz (Oct 12, 2002)

Alright, alright, here it is already. Phillistines.
This would probably look a lot cleaner with some extra HTML tags, but beggars can't be choosers.

Grick
Male Half-Orc Monk7/Drunken Master3 (Sixty-Six Drunken Demons of the Autumn Tower Boxing)
Height: 5'5" Weight: 194 lb. Hair: Black Eyes: Brown Age: 26
Abil: Str 20 Dex 16 Con 15 Int 12 Wis 18 Cha 10; BAB: +8/+3 or +8/+5/+2; AC: 26 (+3 dex, +2 deflection, +4 armor, +2 natural, +4 wisdom, +1 monk, [+2 dodge bonus with swaying waist]); HP: 86
Skills: Bluff +9, Climb +14, Hide +10, Jump +50, Listen +17, Move Silently +10, Tumble +8;
Feats*: Combat Reflexes, [Deflect Arrows], Dodge, Great Fortitude, [Improved Trip], [Improved Unarmed Strike], Mantis Leap, [Stunning Fist]
Class Features: evasion, still mind, slow fall (30'), wholeness of body (14hp), leap of the clouds, drink like a demon, bottle proficiency, stagger, swaying waist, stunning attack (DC 17)
Possessions: amulet of natural armor +2, bracers of armor +4, ring of protection +2, ring of jumping, slippers of spider climbing, +1 butterfly sword of sure-striking, 3 potions of flaming fists, 3 potions of cure moderate wounds, 2 potions of haste, monk's outfit, hidden boot flask, large clay jug, miscellaneous items (backpack, bedroll, etc.)

* Feats enclosed in brackets are class-based.


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## Sniktch (Oct 16, 2002)

'Bout time, Jameumz  

Argh!  Still ten more days until we play!  The anticipation is killing me


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## Broccli_Head (Oct 16, 2002)

Yeah, you better hurry and do something! You're going to have competition with Ziona's group (which includes Dr. Midnight, etc...)

Don't worry...I won't jump ship and will stay loyal!


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## Mathew_Freeman (Oct 26, 2002)

Good start to the campaign! Fun characters too, although I'm betting you guys are going to miss a bit of long distance arcane spell-hurling at some point...

Nice to see genuine role-played inter-party conflict too. Hopefully they can get along to some extent...

I shall enjoy adding this story hour to my collection, as it were!


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## Sniktch (Oct 27, 2002)

*Update coming soon.*

Yeah, Tallarn, I believe they do miss the long distance firepower sometimes, although I have a string of failed saving throws vs. Artimas' ghoul touch spell you wouldn't believe.  Also, Artimas plans on going into the True Necromancer prestige class next level which, though it won't give him access to higher level spells, will greatly increase the effectiveness of all those necromancies he's casting.

We played last night!  The encounter with the statue, where we left off last time, was very anti-climactic after the long wait, but I think the rest of the action certainly made up for it.  I'll be posting the continuation as fast as I can get it written.


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## Sniktch (Oct 27, 2002)

*Quinn takes up sculpting.*

Stumpwater Jack awoke with a snort.  It was a pleasant spring evening, a chill breeze gently blowing through the air.  The insects were just starting their nightly song, and he could hear the soft neighs of the horses from a short distance away.

He sat up and looked around.  He saw no sign of his companions; the only movements came from Artimas’ homunculus as it carried pails of water to the horses.  In the distance he saw the entrance to the crypts yawning open.  

“Musta gone in wi’out me,” he mused, standing up and striding in the direction of the archway.  On his way the homunculus passed him, dragging a fresh bucket of water behind him.  His boot shot out and he punted the nasty little thing into the bushes, sending a spray of cold droplets through the air.

He entered the crypts with a satisfied smile on his face and went to find the others.

*****

When the statue came to life Grick stumbled out of the room with an arm raised protectively before his face.  

Malobar said, “There must be a catch that triggers the statue.  Let me find the trap and we should be able to slip by this one.”

He knelt in the doorway and began examining the floor and frame.  The statue spread its arms wide and hissed, “Defilers!”  Then something issued from the sculpture, something gauzy and insubstantial that composed itself into an ectoplasmic image of the woman the statue depicted.  The spirit’s face stretched and pulled into a ghastly shape and issued a supernatural scream that froze the companions momentarily, although none of the doughty heroes were effected by the acerbic gaze.

Welby went into a rage and charged into the room.  He slashed at the apparition, but his blade passed right through the spirit without harming her.  The ghost laughed and faded from view.  At the same time, the statue came to live, smashing one of its stone fists into the side of the halfling’s face and launching him across the room.

Grick lurched past the spinning barbarian and brought his fist smashing into the statue’s chest, causing very little damage.  Malobar fired a pair of arrows and cursed himself for his foolishness when they simply shattered against the stone body with no effect.  He threw the useless bow to the ground and drew his sword.

A solemn chant filled the room as Quinn stepped in, lost in prayer as she invoked the earth powers of Dumathoin.  She studied the statue intently as the tingling power began to course through her limbs, then she stepped forward and reached out to touch the statue.  It swung a mighty blow at her but she absorbed the impact with her raised shield, then pressed her palm to the sculpture’s side.  The stone split beneath her touch and began to flow towards the ground, hardening into a new form.  When the spell finished working its magic the graven image of the noblewoman was replaced by a solid cube of stone!

The ghost rose from the stone howling in rage and frustration and directed its supernatural fury into a withering stare that it leveled at Quinn.  The sturdy dwarf could feel the power behind that stare, but she was protected by her faith and withstood the gaze unharmed.  Laughing, Artimas stretched forth his hand and a trio of streaking bolts flew from his fingers and struck the incorporeal foe.

The battle ended very quickly after that.  Grick went into a blur of motion, drawing his butterfly swords and cutting at the ghost, the enchanted steel cutting the undead more often than not.  Welby and Malobar took up flanking positions and also began hacking at the spirit, while Artimas stood back and cast another stream of magic missiles.  The infuriated ghost ignored all of their attacks and focused its corrupting stare on Quinn, but the priestess was simply too strong for such a tactic and remained unharmed.

The ghost finally dissipated with a long wail of “Noooooo!” and the party relaxed, standing in a semicircle around the stone block that now rested in the center of the room and regaining their wind.  A footstep from the doorway brought them all whirling around, weapons raised to confront a new threat.

Jack stood in the doorway, looking bemused.  “What in the blazes are ya doin?” he demanded, and they all began to laugh.

*****

The small room contained four other doors beside the one they had entered through.  Each contained a single plain sarcophagus that Malobar and Artimas searched, ignoring Jack’s protests.  They found nothing of value in the first three they opened, but the last contained a skeleton wearing a gold ring set with a small green stone on one finger and a codpiece of rose gold fashioned to resemble a dragon’s head with the jaws opened wide.

Malobar retrieved a pair of long metal tongs from his toolkit and used them to lift the objects free.  As he removed the ring a booming voice rent the air, declaring “Whosoever defiles my tomb shall be devoured by demons seven days hence!”

Startled, the elf jerked his arm away and the ring fell to the floor with a clatter.  Recovering his wits, he scooped it up and placed it on his left hand, then removed the codpiece and packed it away.  Jack tapped him on the shoulder.

“What day is it?” the dwarf asked him.

Malobar answered, then puzzled, asked “Why do you wish to know?”

Jack shrugged, “Cause I wanted to know what day next week I should be avoidin ya.”

At this point the companions were all exhausted from their explorations, except for Jack of course.  They headed back to the wagon and set up camp, planning to delve deeper the next day.  The night passed uneventfully save for an enlightening discussion between Artimas and his homunculus.

“He kicked me,” whined the battered construct, displaying the boot print on its backside.

“Oh, he did, did he?” Artimas answered.  “Well, we’ll just have to keep a closer eye on our friend Stumpwater and make sure he behaves himself better in the future.”

The next morning they re-entered the catacombs, this time moving further into the crypts and down a great staircase they found hewn into the rock.  At the bottom of the stairs they found themselves in a series of natural caverns, the walls pockmarked with alcoves that were filled with piles and piles of bones.  More bones lay strewn about the floor, and the party knew they had passed into the commoners’ crypts.

Malobar, Welby, and the halfling’s shadow companion took up a leading position about sixty feet in front of the others to scout ahead.  They passed through the first cave uneventfully and moved into the second.  This vaulted chamber was exactly the same as the first, save that a huge statue stood upon a raised pedestal in the center of the room.  Twenty feet tall, the sculpture depicted a gaunt emaciated man draped in heavy robes and cowl, carried a giant scythe which it had raised as if poised to cut grain.  

An inscription was carved into the base of the statue, but it was written in the ancient tongues and Malobar could not decipher it.  He and Welby passed the statue by and headed to the other side of the room to watch the exit while they waited for the others to catch up.

Artimas fell to one knee as soon as he saw the statue.  “Lord Arawn!” he gasped, then began searching the floor of the cave carefully.

Grick stared at him curiously.  “Wash you doin?” he slurred at the necromancer.

“If this area has been consecrated to Arawn then my powers may prove more potent within its confines.  I would like to test that theory.  Aha!  This will do,”  the mage finished and stood, holding the tiny furred corpse of a recently deceased fruit bat.  He intoned the words of the pet cemetery spell, sprinkling the corpse with ground onyx.

As the newly animated zombie stretched its wings and took clumsy flight a crash resounded through the room.  They all turned to see that the statue of Arawn had come to life, and strode toward the necromancer with great, echoing steps, scythe raised to strike.

“Now look what ya’ve done!” Jack yelled at him.  “The statue were placed here ta protect the dead, not help snakes like you ta defile ‘em.  Now ya’ll reap what ya’ve sewn, wizard.”  Jack finished and moved to sit on a broad, flat rock, pulling his pipe from his pouch.

“I’m gonna enjoy watchin this,” he sneered as he tamped a pinch of tobacco in the pipe and readied a tinderstick.

“Mantish shleap!” Grick cried and launched himself into a flying kick towards the towering construct.  He soared across the thirty foot distance separating him from the opponent, his foot striking the stone with such force that he knocked several chips free and hairline fractures spread across the statue’s broad chest.  It didn’t slow, merely swatting him to the ground with an enormous hand and trampling him into the floor as it sped towards Artimas.

The wizard quailed fearfully and launched a volley of magic missiles, but they had little effect upon his rocky enemy.  It moved close enough to strike and brought the giant granite scythe down with brutal force, barely clipping Artimas and sending him spinning through the air.

Welby had started rushing toward the battle as soon as he heard the statue move.  He caught up to the giant figure and hacked at the back of its ankles, but failed to do more than knock a few chips from the stone.  Malobar stayed by the exit with his bow ready but did not fire, fearing he could cause no more damage than he had against the smaller statue they’d fought the night before.

Quinn came to Artimas’ rescue, then, once more using her powers over earth to substantially alter the course of the battle.  She reached out with her divinely granted power and softened the rock, changing it from near-impenetrable granite to soft clay.  Large soft chunks of mud began dripping from the figure as it lashed out at the necromancer again, smashing him back against the wall.

Malobar saw the change in the statue and began firing.  Now his arrows did not shatter but sank deep into the clay.  He wasn’t sure this was doing any good, either, but at least he felt he was contributing to the fight.  Meanwhile Grick had recovered from being trod upon and focused his chi abilities on his injuries, causing the bleeding to stop and the pain to subside.  He sprang to his feet and jumped across the room in another flying kick.  This time his attack caused catastrophic damage as the half-orc hit the clay with such force that he plunged right through, tearing the statue’s head from its shoulders.  The construct stopped moving and fell sideways to the ground with a resounding boom, the spell animating the statue losing its power due to the strain of the damage it had taken.

Malobar lowered his bow without firing the last arrow he’d nocked and sighed in relief.  He was certainly glad that was over, and he hoped that his next opponent would be flesh and blood.  No more statues, enough was enough.

He caught movement in his peripheral vision and turned in time to see a hideous, ghoul-like creature springing from the shadows.  It tore into him with teeth and claws and he lost control of his limbs, freezing in place, immobilized before he could even gasp in astonishment.  The creature grabbed a handful of his hair and started dragging him away down the tunnel.

Next:  The chase.


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## Sniktch (Oct 28, 2002)

*The chase!*

Stumpwater Jack’s only contribution to the fight was to laugh when the statue slammed Artimas.  Otherwise, he simply stayed out of the way, smoking his pipe and looking around.  He saw the creature pounce on to Malobar by the exit and begin dragging the elf off by his hair.

“Voltare!” he yelled, hopping to his feet and racing in that direction as fast as his stubby legs could carry him.  He activated the power of his boots and charged right up to the beast, surprising it with the sudden burst and getting in a nice hack.  It howled in pain and raced away, dragging the elf along.  He felt it focus its will upon him in an attempt to hold his body unmoving, but he resisted it easily with his rugged dwarven constitution and continued the chase.

Everyone else glanced over to see what had possessed the dwarf and just saw Malobar’s stiff legs being dragged from view with the dwarf racing after.  Welby, Grick, and Quinn joined the pursuit, each running toward the new threat at top speed.  Artimas strode to a pile of bones and performed a short ritual.  When he completed the final words of the spell the bones snaked around him and formed a protective shell around him.  Now encased with his armor of undeath, he continued to follow in the directions the others had run off.

Jack was able to catch the beast once again with the aid of his boots and delivered another jarring chop before it could dodge away.  The lightly encumbered Welby and Grick had almost caught up while the armored priestess puffed along behind.

Suddenly the corridor exploded with activity.  A large stalagmite grew near the side of the tunnel, almost reaching the ceiling.  A large yellow eye opened in the stalagmite and a gaping maw lined with diamond hard teeth yawned beneath.  Strands of tough, fibrous material shot out of small holes circling the creature and latched on to the heroes as they ran past.  Welby managed to duck the attack, but Jack, Grick, and Quinn were all hit by the sticky snares, which attached to their bodies and began reeling them closer.  Quinn discovered that the strands had another purpose as well, feeling her strength rapidly draining away from the glue-like substance that now adhered her to the strange monster.

Jack saw the demonic ghoul getting away from him as he struggled against the strand.  Before his horrified eyes, the creature and the helpless elf faded from his sight as it turned them both invisible.  No!  He was not going to lose another elf!  Snarling in rage, he severed the tentacle with his axe and took up pursuit, Welby now leading, tracking the beast by the sound of Malobar’s body being dragged across the floor.

A ghoul appeared before Welby and pounced at him, but he nimbly sidestepped and continued running after the noise.  Jack also ignored the new opponent, batting it out of the way with his shield as he thundered past.  The two of them entered another large catacomb littered with the remains of countless dead.  Welby felt a prickling sensation across the back of his neck like he did when Artimas experimented with the dead, and all around him the skeletons started to rise and claw at him.  He vaulted over one bony form as it started to rise and somersaulted between two more without breaking his stride.

Unfortunately, Jack was held up by the newly created undead that formed a bony wall before him.  The ghoul caught up to him and jumped onto his back, but he hurled it to the floor and began to take out his frustrations on everything around him.  He spun around in a great circle with his arm extended, his battleaxe reducing each undead it came into contact with into splinters.  In less than ten seconds he was the only thing moving in the cavern and he sped after the retreating figure of the barbarian.

Welby came to an intersection and halted, listening.  He did not hear the noises anymore!  He had lost his quarry!  Turning to the cat-like shadow that trailed after him he silently asked if it could detect any signs of the ghoulish creatures passing.  It indicated the left branch of the fork as Jack caught up to him.  “Left,” he stated and loped off.

They entered another catacomb, this one a dead end.  Before them the body of their friend lay on the floor with the creature standing over him.  Jack cried out helplessly as its claw descended and ripped a great gash in the elf’s throat, but the monster rushed its attack and missed the major vessels.  It raised an arm for another strike and Welby went berserk, flying at the creature in a frenzy and running it through with his sword.  His blade struck home once, then again, and then the creature grasped him with both its taloned hands, lifted him off the floor, and bit deep into his cheek.  The halfling gasped in pain and went stiff, his muscles no longer responding to his mental commands.

Jack charged in.  His assault was relentless, his axe merciless as he carved the life from the fiend.  It struck him repeatedly with tooth and nail but he ignored the blows, and the beast could not overcome his hardy constitution.  In desperation it attempted to flee, once again calling upon its powers of invisibility, but the pain of its wounds made it difficult for it to concentrate and it failed in the attempt.  Jack’s axe flashed once more and he lopped the monster’s head off.

Seeing that his friends would take several minutes to recover, the dwarf decided to make a thorough examination of the area before they recovered.  Amidst the skeletal remains, five distinct piles of gear lay on the floor of the chamber - suits of glittering mithral mail, weapons, shields, and more.  He invoked a detection spell and scanned the mounds, moving anything magical to a new pile.  Quite a bit of the equipment did show up as enchanted, although a large steel shield was the only thing that he found useful.

Picking it up, he saw that the front was decorated in a spider web design, the shield of a follower of the dark elf goddess Lolth.  Jack snorted in disgust, searched his pack for his whetstone, and began carefully scraping the paint away while he waited.

*****

Grick and Quinn found themselves alone with an angry roper.  Quinn struggled feebly against the pull but had been weakened too much from the first attack.  A second lash wrapped around her and her muscles gave way completely, dropping her to the tunnel floor, too drained to even move.  The tentacles reeled her in at an even faster pace now, and the sound of her platemail dragging the ground crashed through the passageway.

Grick saw his friend drop and quit trying to resist.  He could also feel the strength draining from him and knew that he had to destroy the aberration quickly or they might both be lost.  He pulled a flask of whiskey from his boot and drained it in two swallows, the strong alcohol fortifying him as it burned down his throat and sent warm fingers stretching throughout his body.  He threw the empty container aside and charged the last few steps toward the creature, smashing his fist into its stony hide with all the strength he had remaining.

Artimas finally reached the bend in the passage and stuck his head out around the corner.  The situation did not look good.  Grick stood before the creature, strands wrapped around his legs, arms, and midsection, pounding at it with increasingly clumsier blows, several bleeding gashes on his body where he had not been quick enough to avoid the snapping jaws, while Quinn’s prostrate form lay unmoving a yard away.

He sighed.  It seemed the only way to save the others was to give the roper a taste of its own medicine.  Reaching into the spirit world, he summoned a pack of four shadows and unleashed them upon the monster.  The beast screamed as the first icy claws sunk into its flesh, stealing the power from its blows and hastening it toward death.  It dropped the staggering half-orc and lashed out at these new aggressors, buts its strands passed right through the immaterial beings harmlessly.  

The roper’s cries changed from anger to panic as the shadows raked it again and again.  Grick stumbled, dragging Quinn back away from the beast, and Artimas ran forward and started rummaging through her pack.  He found her scroll organizer and perused the various titles, selecting one marked “Restoration” and reading it aloud over her spineless form.  Instantly her strength was returned to normal, and the three heroes turned back to the battle, just in time to see the roper wither and collapse, a lifeless husk, under the shadow’s assault.

Their mission completed, the shadows turned on their summoner, hating any and all life.  “Join us, Artimas Sendant,” they hissed as they glided over the tunnel floor, “we will take you to Arawn.  You will enjoy…. Being one of us.”

Quinn stepped forward and brandished her holy symbol.  “Begone, creatures of darkness!” she commanded, and the undead faded from view as they returned to the Plane of Shadows.

Artimas approached the roper’s corpse and called to his faithful torchbearer, who for once had escaped unscathed from the fighting.  “Igor, come,” he said, then, “Igor, push.”  The zombie faithfully toppled over the heavy body, exposing a hollow beneath its base.  Reaching in, he found several precious gemstones that he handed to Grick for safekeeping. 

*****

Malobar and Welby finally stirred after Jack had scraped half of the shield clean.  The first thing the elf did was reach up to feel the tear in his throat, but he found it sealed, already healed by the dwarf’s magic.  He approached Jack solemnly and extended his hand.

“You’ve saved my life and I am indebted to you.  Both of you,” he added, hearing the halfling shifting behind him.  “I am in your service now and I pray that the sun never sets on our new friendship.”

“Bah,” Jack snorted.  “Didn’t do nothin fer ya that ya wouldna done fer me if the places had been reversed.  Besides, an’ don’ let anyone know I told ya this or I’ll have ta kill ya, but I always have had a soft spot fer elves.”

Welby just shrugged and went to look at the gear Jack had piled next to him, then looked at the dwarf hopefully with raised brows.  

“Yeah, whelp, its all magic.”

Welby pulled a shirt of fine mithral links from the pile.  It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, even compared to the shirt he currently wore.  He pulled his suit of armor over his head and tossed it to the side, then replaced it with the enchanted drow-made shirt.  He nodded at the dwarf.

“Nice shield.  Where others?”

“They ain’t caught up yet, Welby.”  Jack jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the main corridor.  “I went back and made sure they was still alive after that roper ambushed us, and everyone’s still kickin, but then I came back ta babysit ya until ya could move again.  They’re waitin fer us.”

They tramped back up the hall until they rejoined the others.  When they arrived, Jack noticed something strange about a section of wall.  His spell of detection, still active, revealed a ten-foot section of wall that radiated strong illusion magic.

“Uh, guys,” he said, pointing to the patch in question.  “I don’t think that wall’s really there.”

Next:  The refugee’s hideout.


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## Broccli_Head (Oct 28, 2002)

Getting more and more exciting with each post!

keep up the good work. 

B.H.


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## Balderdash (Oct 29, 2002)

*Arcane spell power*

Yes its true Artimas does lack the huge spell power that a straight mage of equal level would have.  Oh well... when i started the charecter third edition was in its infancy and I finally had my chance to play a wizard-cleric necromancer ( somthing i coulndt do in second edition ) and i ran with it .  I do think the pluses do out way the the negatives alot though . My spells per day are tremendous .. allowing me to contribute considerably longer before i start complaining that we need to camp ....Spell Resistance is a problem , i hope to remedy with the addition of true necromancer PrC, especially with drow. Since arty's creation i have done alot of "research" in ploting spells and and advancement to alieviate my missing might .... but im sure it will all go to not when im smacked with some spells above level 3 and all i can do is magic missle     By the way i cant spell and i was never taught grammer .. please excuse all errors


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## Sniktch (Oct 29, 2002)

*Bebilith nest*

They stepped through the illusionary wall and found themselves in another large catacomb area, this one draped with thick layers of heavy webbing.  Jack stepped into the chamber, his axe still crackling with blue arcs of electrical energy, and started into the room cautiously, the others trailing behind him.  

Suddenly the fabric of space seemed to tear in front of him and a grotesque monster stepped through to the material plane.  It resembled a huge, bloated spider with a mottled purple shell, its twisted abdomen curving in upon itself and ending in a pair of spinnerets that faced forward.  The foremost pair of its legs ended in huge scythes of hardened exoskeleton.  The fiend scuttled towards him, its razor sharp appendages raised to cut him down, while a second beast materialized in the webbing hanging from the ceiling and sprayed a sheet of web at Quinn, immobilizing her in a cocoon of dark silk.

Jack jumped forward and hacked at the creature but his axe bounced away with no effect!  In response, it drove one of its claws into the seam at his shoulder, ripping a gaping wound across his chest and tearing his platemail off to fall bent and twisted to the floor, ruined.  The naked dwarf staggered away bleeding, his shield raised to ward off any other incoming blows.

Malobar rolled under it and struck at the belly, hoping to find a weak point.  His attack was rewarded when his short blade made a tiny crack in its shell and foul black liquid began oozing out.  The magic of the sword should ensure that the wound did not cease bleeding until the creature was dead.  In retaliation the creature bit into him, injecting viscous green venom that immediately began draining his constitution.

Welby and Grick also charged the monster on the floor, dodging through another spray of webs from the one above them.  Grick pulled his butterfly swords as he rushed in and cut into it several times, while Welby rolled past into a flanking position and hacked the spinnerets from its abdomen with a well-placed blow, ensuring that this creature, at least, was unable to cocoon any more victims.

The beast whirled around in a rage, biting into the half-orc and injecting him with its deadly poison as well and ripping the shirt right off Welby’s body as a talon impaled the diminutive barbarian.  Malobar lunged in and managed to open another small crack in the creature’s chitinous exoskeleton and another thin stream of black blood dripped from the wound, but the creature seemed to shrug off their combined efforts and appeared barely wounded.

Meanwhile, Jack had retreated from the room, healed himself, and then chanted a prayer that made his armor whole again, although it could not restore the enchantment.  He was now strapping it back on and it was clear his role would be limited in the rest of the fight. Quinn had activated her flaming weapon, hoping to burn herself free, but the webs proved surprisingly inflammable and it took almost thirty seconds before she could move again.  She began praying as soon as she could move her hands, summoning a giant column of fire from the heavens that engulfed both of the monsters, her nimble friends easily evading the radius of effect.  The monsters, like their webs, proved highly resistant to the flames, but they could not withstand the divine energy that imbued the attack.

Artimas had been kept busy dodging webs from the creature on the ceiling, but he did manage to cast his spell of vampiric touch, transferring it to his familiar Nibbler and sending the poor bat up to attack the fiendish spider.  It nipped the small flyer with a mandible as it came in, but Nibbler proved to be made of sterner stuff than most bats and resisted the poison.  It touched the beast and Artimas felt his wounds from the statue healing as his spell took effect.  His poor familiar lapsed into unconsciousness from the exertion and the pain of its wound and spiraled earthward, but the necromancer ran underneath and caught the fuzzy body before it landed.

The second spider dropped from the ceiling to join in the melee and Quinn called a second flame strike that engulfed them both.  Grick, Malobar, and Welby dodged and chopped at the beast they had been fighting furiously, and the demonic spider did bleed from many cuts, but it did not show any sign of relenting yet and the three friends appeared to be in much worse condition than their opponent.  

Finally, Malobar slipped in a patch of his own blood and fell upon his back.  He screamed and raised his sword to turn aside a blow he knew he could neither block nor survive, when suddenly the beast collapsed.  The two small wounds he had inflicted upon it, the only damage he had been able to do in the battle, had taken their toll.  Continuously bleeding due to the power of his wounding sword, these two tiny cracks in its massive bulk had proved its undoing, and now the companions had only one opponent to face.

Or would have, if not for Artimas.  The wizard had healed Nibbler and ordered him to avoid the battle, then drawn some of his own life force into another ritual, creating a disembodied, spectral hand.  Now he channeled that hand with the paralyzing touch of the ghoul and sent it to grasp the last monster.  His signature spell proved as effective as always, and Welby easily dispatched the helpless creature while Quinn used prayers of restoration to cure the ravages the venom had inflicted upon the bodies of Grick and Malobar.

Next:  First Drow contact


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## Broccli_Head (Oct 29, 2002)

You should have added another bebilith!


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## Sniktch (Oct 29, 2002)

*Lord, no!*

Yeah, I certainly could have but I didn't feel like killing everybody (Yet ).  The party was having a really hard time hurting them with the DR 30/+3 in the first place.  Jack couldn't hurt them except on a crit, and stopped trying, Malobar only managed to get in his two wounding strikes because of sneak attacks which did 34 and 32 hp (for a total of 6 to the bebilith), and Welby could only damage them when he flanked (and his sword of subtlety bonus raised to +5).  Grick was the only reliable source of damage, and his strength was still at 12 because of the ropers and his con was down to 10 after the first bite.  

True, Artimas was able to ruin my fun when he ghoul touched the other bebilith while it still had 50 hp, and I predictably rolled a 4 for its save.  This is a recurring theme in our games - almost every time Artimas declares a ghoul touch and hits with it, I pick up the die and roll between a 1 and 5 for the save.  Still, if the fight had continued either Grick, Malobar, or Welby would have definitely died, no doubt in my mind.  They were too badly injured from the first one, and really needed a break to drop some healing spells before continuing.

I do take account for the fact that I have 6 party members instead of 4, but quite often I will simply add hp to the existing monsters rather than add more.  I find that 2 bebilith with 120 hp can create just as much havoc as 3 with 80.  Am I too soft on my players?  They certainly don't think so, and just wait to see what I have in store for them the next time we play...  

muhahahahahaha


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## Lazybones (Oct 30, 2002)

Actually, I thought that the bebelith battle was perfectly balanced for just the right near-death challenge.  There were a few points where I thought that they were all going to buy it.  

Just caught up to the story to date, and would like to add my praises for a well-written story with good descriptions and fast-paced action.  The characters are very distinctive and I like the dialogue.  I think their differences sets up an interesting dynamic (the tension between Jack and the necromancer was particularly entertaining).  I will definitely be dropping in for future updates.


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## Sniktch (Oct 30, 2002)

*Re: Bebiliths*

That was the highlight of the evening for me, even considering the furious battle coming up next.  It was really touch and go the whole time, and I did not think that the entire group was going to make it through.  My favorite moment was when the first bebilith dropped - Malobar and Grick had about 20 hp between them at that point and would probably both have perished, but the bebilith began the turn with 1 hp and the wounding sword took it down.  And Jack say 1 hp doesn't really make a difference.

The next battle was pretty long and drawn out, and got a little confusing, what with darkness globes and stray lightning bolts and the like.  I am not sure I got the sequence of events correct, and I apologize to my players if I fouled it up, but the gist is correct.  Yet another fight where our arcane deficiency shows up, as they have to face a hasted, shielded, mage armored, stoneskinned, fire shielded, seeing invisible drow evoker with very little resources remaining.  Even melee proved to be one-sided in the dark elf's favor, as all the spells gave it an AC of 30.  Thank goodness Grick remembered the feint maneuver!

OK, before I give anymore away, here's the next update...


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## Sniktch (Oct 30, 2002)

*First drow sighting*

As soon as Malobar was cured of the effects of the poison he headed in the direction of the exit.  Throughout the fight, he had been aware of a black-skinned, white-haired figure that kept peeking into the room and watching the battle.

He quietly informed the others.  “I think there are dark elves in the next room – one of them kept watching the battle,” he explained.  “Stay out of sight but close to the entrance in case I need help.  I’m going to try to find out some more information.”

The elf withdrew a steel vial from his belt and swallowed the contents.  Instantly he began to undergo a startling transformation; his hair turned white, his skin black as coal, and his armor and weapons also underwent a metamorphosis, now resembling the adornments of a common drow soldier.  He had spent much time in the underdark during his career, and he knew a fair bit about his dark brethren and their ways, as well as the ability to speak undercommon fluently.

When he was satisfied that his magical disguise was complete he strolled casually into the next room.  It was another moldy old crypt, again with thick sheets of spider web hanging down from the ceiling.  In the middle of the floor sat a beautiful female drow, completely nude and sobbing into her hands.  She raised a tear-streaked face and her jaw dropped in astonishment to see another dark elf before her.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Malobar replied.  “What’s wrong?  Why are you crying?”

She answered with another question, “Are you a Spider Kisser?”

The rogue tried to think.  He couldn’t remember hearing this term before, but it sounded derogatory.  “Uh, no,” he admitted.

“Then what goddess do you pledge faith to?” she demanded.

He considered the question.  So that was what “Spider Kisser” meant, she had wanted to know if he was a follower of Lolth.  He tried to think of the other drow deities, but his mind was coming up blank.  “I serve Eilistraee,” he finally responded.

Her beautiful features scrunched up in rage.  “Surface dwelling scum!” she spat at him.  “Prepare to meet your doom!”  

She hopped to her feet and began climbing up the wall, undergoing a curious change.  Extra sets of long, thin legs began sprouting from her sides, her face melted and reformed into the head of a spider, and soon it was a man-sized arachnid crawling across the wall and not the lovely woman with whom he’d been speaking.  He recognized the creature as an aranea, a race of intelligent spiders that possessed the power to alter their form.

A second aranea dropped from the ceiling, taking the form of a female dark elf on its descent and attacking him with a rapier and light pick.  He parried the initial strike and began shouting for help, then launched into an attack routine of his own, also failing to score a hit.  He heard his companions enter the room as he dodged another blow, then a sheet of webs hit him and pinned him to the floor.

After the bebiliths, Jack was very happy to be facing an opponent that was soft and weak.  He was willing to bet that his axe wasn’t going to just bounce off these creatures.  Kicking in his boots, he charged the one on the ground and delivered two devastating chops with his axe.  The aranea’s eyes widened in pain and fear and it attempted to retreat from him, thrusting with its rapier in a futile attempt to keep the dwarf at bay.  The other one attempted to cover its companion’s withdrawal, first with a thick stream of webbing that the dwarf miraculously dodged and then by aiming a wand and bombarding him with one salvo of magic missiles after another.  Quinn tried to retaliate by firing a ray of searing light, but the nimble creature easily avoided the attack and shifted its attentions to her.

Artimas surveyed the fight; the one on the ground would soon be finished, he decided, but the other, on the ceiling with that wand, could prove to be a thorn in their backsides.  He cast a series of spells from the cover of the entranceway, enhancing his weapon with sharp spikes, gaining the ability of flight, and raising a shield to absorb any missiles that were fired toward him.  He flew into the room and towards the monster hanging from the ceiling.  Grick ran up the walls to join him and Welby readied his shortbow and provided covering fire.

Jack caught the one on the floor before it could get away, and despite its skillful defense and several stinging blows, they quickly finished it.  Quinn concentrated on freeing the elven rogue from the webs holding him in place.  The other aranea evaded Grick and Artimas for a few moments, continuing to spray glowing orbs of force from the wand, but finally Artimas slipped through its defenses and cracked his spiked walking stick across its ribs.  Grick took the opportunity to focus his ki and smash it with an attack that stunned the creature and made it lose its grip.  It fell from its perch and broke upon the unyielding stone below.

There did not appear to be any further exits from the chamber, but Malobar concentrated on the movement of the air and the echoes rebounding from the walls and made a discovery.  “Hey everyone, there’s another illusionary wall here!”

He felt a sting in his side as he finished speaking and looked to see a small crossbow bolt imbedded in his flesh.  He pulled it out and saw the residue on the metal tip – drow sleep venom!  Fighting against an attack of drowsiness, he plunged into the false wall…and got stuck.  Someone had set up a web inside the illusion, and Malobar found himself once again pinned in place as a laughing dark elf stepped into view, rapier in hand, and lunged toward him.

Artimas heard the thief’s scream from the spot where he had disappeared and focused his energy on the illusionary wall, dispelling the magic that held the image in place.  They saw Malobar hanging in a web at the mouth of a corridor, a male drow standing before him and repeatedly stabbing with his rapier at the squirming elf.  He could see three other drow in the hallway beyond, two more males and a female, and he grasped his wand of fireballs and caused a detonation that engulfed all three of them.  When the flames died out all three still stood, with nary a scorch mark upon them, their innate resistance to spells nullifying the effects of the blast.  The foremost of the three shot him with a hand crossbow and the mage’s greatest task became concentrating on remaining awake.

Welby rolled unseen through the opening, avoiding the web trap that had been captured Malobar.  His ring of the darkhidden allowed him to bypass the first warrior, but before he could travel further purple flames wreathed his body and clung to him, providing a glowing silhouette for the dark elves to aim at.  The warrior who’d just shot Artimas dropped his hand crossbow and moved to intercept the halfling shaped flames.  In the background, the female levitated to the ceiling and readied a wand.

Jack and Grick dashed up and cut the wriggling elf free of the web, and then a storm swept over them, buffeting them with cold wind and falling blocks of ice.  The dark elven spellguard admired his handiwork for just a moment before raising a shield of fire to protect himself and then following the attack with a stroke of lightning.  The crackling bolt tore through the hallway, injuring both dwarves and the necromancer, everyone else managing to evade or resist.  Seeing the hated surface dwellers still moving, he pulled a wand from his belt and sent two more forked tongues of electricity blazing through the darkness, this time knocking Jack unconscious and forcing Quinn and Artimas to take cover lest they be slain.

A desperate melee ensued between the two dark elf warriors and the elf, halfling, and half-orc, neither side able to gain the advantage in the magical globe of darkness that enveloped them.  The dark elves were much more adept at fighting without sight, but Grick evened the odds by constantly tripping them or stunning them with his ki.  

The sneering dark elf wizard remained out of reach, bombarding the combatants with ravening energy, caring little if his allies were slain as long as his enemies died with them.  Welby mentally directed his shadow to attack the evoker and it rose from the floor before him with grasping claws, but the female fired a ray of light from her wand that almost snuffed it out completely.  Feeling his companion’s pain, Welby ordered it to sink into the floor and stay out of sight until the battle ended.

Grick swept his opponent’s legs out from under him and heard the dark elf curse as it hit the ground for perhaps the third time.  He lashed out towards the sound, bringing his hand knifing down onto the dark elf’s windpipe.  The curses ended in a weak gurgle and he rolled away, coming free of the darkness.  Seeing the female suspended in the air he ran and jumped at her, kicking her solidly and sending her spinning across the ceiling.  She screamed in pain and raised darkness surrounded her, blocking her from view.  He turned to concentrate on the wizard as he felt a barrage of stinging missiles impact on his exposed backside.

Artimas and Quinn, their wounds partially healed, poked their heads back into the room just in time to absorb another lightning bolt, and they ducked right back out of sight.  Before withdrawing again, Artimas did manage to summon a couple of shadows, which he set upon the powerful enemy spellcaster.  Unfortunately he was too well shielded, and the undead creatures were not even able to touch him.

Quinn turned to him from her side of the entrance.  “Do you have any way to dispel some of his protective magics?” she implored.

Artimas shook his head dolefully.  “I wish I did, but I used my only one to get rid of that illusionary wall.”

Welby and Malobar still battled the other drow warrior in the globe of darkness.  The savage little warrior was having a difficult time hitting his opponent, but the darkness did not hinder the elf’s keen senses one bit and he scored several bleeding lacerations on the enemy.  Finally, a stray lightning bolt overcame the drow’s innate resistance and fried him, and Malobar sank to the floor, exhausted and bleeding from a score of cuts both large and minor.  Welby was in a berserk fury and did not feel his injuries, so he went charging off to help Grick deal with the spellguard.

Grick was having a difficult time dealing with the wizard, even after the flaming shield expired.  His enemy moved twice as quickly as a normal man and seemed to be enveloped by an invisible bubble of force that deflected any blow that came close.  Frustrated, the drunken brawler pulled off a last ditch maneuver, feinting low and to the left before reversing his movement and cuffing the drow under the jaw.  The dark elf dropped to one knee, momentarily stunned, and then the enraged halfling fell upon him, swinging his sword two-handed and continuing to hack at his fallen opponent’s body long after the life had left it.


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## Sniktch (Oct 31, 2002)

Quinn healed Jack and Malobar, but the group as a whole was now badly hurt and needed to withdraw and rest.  Artimas had an ugly thought.

“Where’s the female?” he asked, but no one had seen her.  She had disappeared into the globe of darkness and not resurfaced for the rest of the battle.

“Ugh,” sighed Grick and collapsed on the floor, fishing through his pack for the extra bottle he kept stashed.

Welby, still breathing hard from the exertion of the battle, pointed down the hallway.  “She must go this way.  Welby find?”

“Nah, we should go together.  Best that way, if’n she went ta find friends.  But we should find ‘er now, I don’t think we wanna leave ‘er runnin loose,” Jack said.

“One thing bothers me here,” Artimas stroked his whiskers thoughtfully.  “She was obviously a priestess of Lolth; she wore the symbol and she was a female.  That should have made her our most powerful opponent, from what I know of drow.  And yet, other than using that wand I can’t recall her casting a single spell, and she seems to have run away as soon as she was attacked.”

Malobar shrugged, “She may have been an acolyte, who knows?  But I do agree with Jack – we should catch her, if possible.”

They moved down the hallway in a state of extreme paranoia, expecting more black-skinned killers to strike from the gloom at any instant.  It opened into a smaller chamber, the floor swept clean of bones and skulls, which were now piled against the walls.  The elf activated his powers of blindsight and confirmed that this room really was a dead end.

A clatter attracted their attention from a mound of skulls near the far end of the catacomb.  All attention focused upon the pile as everyone prepared for another attack.  The female drow stepped from behind her hiding place, realizing she had given herself away.  Seeing the array of might before her, she threw the wand to the ground, then drew her dagger and tossed that aside also.  She regarded them all with a face that could have been lovely if not for the hateful sneer that marred its delicate features.  She spoke then, her words a venomous hiss that knifed through the silence:

“You will regret this affront to the Spider Queen, surface dwelling scum!  I must admit defeat… I surrender myself to your mercy.”

Next:  Conversations with the drow (next session – we are all caught up for now)


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## Broccli_Head (Oct 31, 2002)

sounded like  a pretty cool fight and I like the predicament that the players have themselves in now.


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## Skirney (Oct 31, 2002)

Greet storee, but yer need to write faster


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## Sniktch (Nov 13, 2002)

The following exchange was initiated during our last session but we couldn't finish since it was late and both of us were falling asleep.  I managed to get ahold of my player and wrap this up the other night, though.  Made sense to get it out of the way since only one party member was involved.

Might have to push our next session back due to vacation plans for the Thanksgiving holiday.  I am going to try to rearrange our schedule to get in a game before I leave, but I have no idea if this will happen.  Hopefully this morsel will keep you hungry for more until I get back


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## Sniktch (Nov 13, 2002)

*Intermission: A Conversation with the Drow*

The party withdrew to the wagon to lick their wounds, dragging the bound dark elf with them.  The priestess of Lolth remained sullen and withdrawn, not responding to any of their attempts to extract more information from her.  

Artemis locked himself in his wagon upon returning and prepared for his midnight communion with Arawn.  He slept for two hours, all that he required with his magical ring, then spent another couple of hours in silent study and meditation.  When he was finished he left the friendly confines of the cart and relieved Malobar from his watch.  He took a seat not far from the white-haired priestess and waited silently, staying alert particularly for any disturbances from the direction of the crypts.

The dark elf gazed left and right until she was convinced that the rest of the party had bedded down or was out of earshot, then leaned closer and called the mage near.  "You, wizard.  Yes, come closer; I would have words with you."

Artemis nodded agreeably and cast a spell that would surround him with an area where falsehoods would be impossible to speak, then moved closer and sat beside the dusky-skinned beauty.

She began, "You are an outsider even amongst your friends.  I have seen their ilk foolishly throw their lives away many times in the realm below, but you serve a darker master.  Why do you travel with these simpletons?"

Artimas smirked at her and replied, "Looks can be deceiving.  I'm always willing to lend a hand to those in need, and right now I'm helping the locals quell some drow raids.  It would appear my task may be complete with the destruction of your band."

She sneered at this.  "We had nothing to do with this.  You have solved nothing but the destruction of homeless refugees."  After a brief pause she leaned forward and whispered sulkily, "Give me my freedom and I will tell you of the true enemy you face."

Artemis considered her statement.  Thus far the drow had spoken no lies to him that he could detect.  "I did notice you were well hidden," he said.  "I also stepped over a few drow corpses on my way into the crypts, and I assumed the cause to be infighting amongst your people.  Tell me who is responsible for the recent raids and why you are running from them; then we will see if you have earned your freedom."

She sighed and seemed to gather her thoughts.  “Remove my bindings,” she demanded.  “I am in your power but I would at least converse in comfort.  I am no threat to you at the present time.”

Artemis produced a dagger with a casual flick of his wrist.  His captive fell silent and waited for him to finish sawing through the ropes that tied her wrists together before proceeding, rubbing the chafed skin as she spoke.

"Lolth fell silent several months ago.  Try as we might none of her priestesses have been able to reach her," she explained.  "Did you not wonder why I did not simply strike you down with my magic?  But no, the Spider Queen has withdrawn her favor from us, or else she is dead."

"Everything dies," the necromancer interjected with a smug grin.

She ignored the interruption, continuing, "Into the void have stepped the followers of the White Lady, Kiaransalee.  The priestesses of Lolth were the first to fall before them - now they have been stripped of their flesh and wait as eternally vigilant guards against intruders.  Beware, mage, for you will share their fate if you continue upon this road!"

Her warning drew a snicker from the wizard.  "I'm touched by your concern for my well being.  How thoughtful of you.  Tell me then, how strong are the Pale Lady's forces?"

"We heard that Maerimydra fell to them over a month ago.  Before we knew it, their forces attacked Szith Morcane and sacked it within a matter of hours.  I was one of the lucky few to have escaped the disaster.  The leaders in Szith Morcane decided that it was time for the drow’s vengeance to begin upon the hated surface world.  Those are your raiders!"

How lovely, an entire city of drow to deal with, thought the mage.  “This Szith Morcane, is it a city?  How did you manage to win free?  Secret tunnels?  A small band such as yours would have been very lucky to escape.”

"Yes, a drow settlement.  I am Tierak Morcane, of the ruling house of Szith Morcane.  My family was able to hold out against the new leadership longer than most due to our strength, and a few of us were able to flee from the fall of Szith Morcane.  Apparently the new regime has not yet learned of the secret caverns we hid in.

"Now, I have told you all that I know.  Set me free!" she pleaded.  "I am powerless and no threat to anyone in my current condition.  Your friends will turn me over to the authorities and do you think that I will find proper justice at their hands?"

"Ah yes, about that .. how much do you know of the surface?  What will you do ?  I can not in good conscience leave a dark elf to run free and wreak havoc on the surrounding settlements.”

"I have no interest in spreading destruction, only in leaving this place far behind," her full bottom lip turned down as she pouted.  Then deciding to try a different tack, the woman leaned back and stretched languorously, giving Artimas full view of her lithe, athletic body.  "I have other ways to reward you for your aid," she purred.

Artemis realized that they had been walking as they spoke and now stood by the entrance to the cart.  Convenient, he mused, perfect timing for such a proposal.  "My thoughts exactly, although not, I think, with the same intent. I am sure you would be caught soon if you fled, as the country is crawling with adventures seeking to earn the bounty on drow heads,” the mage bluffed. “I believe that its well over 500 gold coins per confirmed kill.  Oh, and have you ever seen the morning sun ?”

"That is my concern and none of your own.  The world is full of places to hide.  The important thing is that I will be well away from here."  She reached out and caressed the wizard’s cheek as she spoke.

"I cannot set you free; my friends would not be pleased with me.”

Tierak flashed Artemis what she hoped was a winning smile, but the mage actually found it disconcerting to see the friendly expression on the face of a wicked drow.  The priestess moved her hand down and felt his chest through the thick robes he wore.  "Shall I await your pleasure in the wagon, then, so that we can discuss it further?"

"Ahem, you are much too... lively for me I assure you.  Now behave yourself or I will be forced to redo your bindings.”  Artemis looked at the defeated drow with a calculating gleam in his eye, the new kernel of an idea forming in his head.

"You realize that I could be the vehicle of your revenge,” he stated flatly.

Tierak was startled by the abrupt change in direction.  "How so?"

"What a satisfying thing it can be to turn your enemies into your eternal slaves,” Artemis pointed to the silent form of Igor standing nearby.  “This one, for example, once stabbed me in the back and now his form is forced to die over and over again. If you would learn the teachings of Arawn from me then the power I wield could be within your grasp as well.”

He sat with a curious half-smile on his face as he waited for his statement to sink in.  "Once we return to the crypts stay with the wagon and care for the horses.  I have a collection of books in the cart that would be a good place for you to start reading.  There are other Powers in the world than Lolth.  Allow me to show you and you could have all that you desire.”

She stroked her chin absently before replying, "I will give some thought to what you have said.  I will agree to remain your prisoner in the cart... at least until you depart.  After that I make no promises."

Now how do I ever convince the others that leaving her behind is a good idea? he wondered.  A nice idea, but a waste of time.  Then he realized what he had to do.  

“Come,” he opened the door and led her into the confines of the wagon.  He bade her to lie upon the small bed and relax and she hesitantly obeyed.  He stood over her and chanted a spell, surrounding his right hand with a cold nimbus of black light.

A malicious smirk played across his features as he said, “Now try to trust me and do not attempt to resist.  This is going to hurt a bit so please try not to scream.”

With a quick movement he brought his hand down against her chest.  She did cry out in raw agony as the summoned negative energy surged into her body, then fell unconscious from the pain and quit struggling.  Artemis dug through his desk and produced a worn scroll.

“Ah, yes, here it is.  This will do nicely.”  Each word burst into fire as he read them from the aged parchment until it disintegrated completely.  He leaned over the still form and placed his hand over her chest again, smiling in grim satisfaction as the rise and fall of her chest ceased and her heart stopped.


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## darkbard (Nov 13, 2002)

oh ... mah ... gawd!


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## Balderdash (Nov 14, 2002)

*Oh my god ?*

I miss understand the Oh my god post.   Are you shocked by arty's actions , or just Startled by the story in general. Atimas isnt a bad guy honestly .... Though there is a lingering thought of Necrophilia under them there words.  Im looking forward to more coments on my favorite creepy wizard with the heart of gold, especialy during the down time between games.


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## Jinx (Nov 14, 2002)

I'm just looking forward to the party's reaction. Especially Jack and Quinn's.


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## darkbard (Nov 14, 2002)

balderdash--

yes, i am kind of shocked at artemis' actions.  i guess i too have been deceived by his scholarly demeanor.  i had him pegged as much more of the true neutral type that just enjoyed pulling jack's strings time and again.  but this ... well, i have to reconsider.  guess he does stray to neutral evil at times.

great development.  i love the character concept.


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## Sniktch (Nov 14, 2002)

Jinx said:
			
		

> *I'm just looking forward to the party's reaction. Especially Jack and Quinn's.  *




Me, too.  What is your reaction, Quinn?  I guess we'll have to wait until the next session to find out.  I guess we should just be thankful balderdash hasn't gotten ahold of the Book of Vile Darkness yet.

Speaking of the next session, in case any of my players check this thread before I get to speak with them, it is going to be moved forward a week until this Saturday.  I'll be on vacation the two weekends after that and I don't want to push the game back that far.  Let me know if this doesn't work for you and we'll try to work around any schedule conflicts.

I think everyone is going to need to be here this time


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## Sniktch (Nov 18, 2002)

*The story continues...*

Welby woke with a start, rising so quickly he bumped his head on the underside of the wagon.  Long ago they had modified the wagon, building a small space underneath that was just large enough for a halfling to stretch out.  Originally intended as an ambush platform for the diminutive barbarian, he had quickly taken to sleeping on it.  

He had been sleeping there this night when the scream cut into his dream.  It sounded like it had originated from the inside of the wagon, right above his head.  He rolled off the platform and scooted out from under the wagon and found Malobar hurrying in his direction.

“What was that?” the elf demanded.

Welby felt the bump on his head tenderly, “Dunno, sleeping.”

The door to the cart opened and Artimas stepped outside.  “What was –?” the elf started again but stopped as he saw the answer to his query.  Behind the mage the still form of the dark elf was stretched out on the necromancer’s bed, the imprint of his hand seared into her flesh.  Malobar pushed his way into the wagon, kneeling to examine the body.  He found no pulse, and when he held a mirror under her nose the glass remained clear.  He stood and faced Artimas, crossing his arms over his chest as he awaited an explanation.

“Yes, I killed her,” the mage stated calmly.  “Don’t pretend to care about the fate of a dark elf, Malobar.  It was the easiest way to question her, and now I know a lot more about the enemy we face.  I had believed our task completed with the destruction of the band we faced, but it turns out they were refugees, driven from their homes by the true raiders.”

“Woke up for this?” Welby complained and crawled back under the cart.

“You are correct, mage, I care not a whit what becomes of a priestess of Lolth, and I, for one, am happy to have more information about our foes.  Just you pray that the dwarves do not react differently to your deed.  

“We will speak further in the morning.”  The elf wheeled and paced away, failing to notice the mischievous spark that gleamed in the necromancer’s eye.

*****

It took a while before they even noticed.  The companions had eaten breakfast and were breaking camp when Jack suddenly stood and called, “Right, where’s the bleedin prisoner?”

“Oh, I killed her,” Artimas answered cheerfully, “it really made interrogating her much easier.”

The activity in the camp ceased as all heads turned to view the dwarf’s reaction.  Jack stood in open-mouthed amazement at the wizard’s boldness for several seconds, then shook his head and asked, “Well, when’re ya gonna let the rest of us in on what ya’ve learned?”

“But he killed her, Jack, he killed that girl!” Quinn voiced in shock, surprised at the look of acceptance she saw on her surly companion’s face.

“As I stated, it made the process of questioning her much quicker and easier.  I ask myself, what is the price of one dark elf to learn more about the task ahead?  Besides, I have never had the opportunity to, ah, work with a drow before,” said the mage.

Jack’s face colored at the last statement and he shot the wizard a look of pure venom, then explained to Quinn, “While I canna agree with the wizard’s methods, in this case I’ll no’ argue with the results.  Quinn, she weren’t a girl, she were a viper, and I’ll no’ cry over a dead drow, no matter how it happened.”  He turned back to face Artimas.  “Ya’ll not be raisin her, though.”

“Oh, no, nothing of the sort.  And I have no time for anything like that, assuming we are headed back into the crypts.  I have simply cast a spell of preservation upon the body so it will be available to me for future endeavors.”

Seeing the dwarf’s anger rising again, Malobar interrupted, “Well, are you going to tell us what you’ve discovered before nightfall?  My blade is thirsty for drow blood.”

“Yes, yes, we should be on our way.  The dark elves we faced yesterday are also victims of the raiders we were sent to deal with.  According to our captive Lolth has fallen silent and her followers are being wiped out.  Below us lies the drow city of Szith Morcane, where the followers of Kiaransalee, the dark elf goddess of death, now hold sway.  Apparently, the White Lady, as she is called, has judged that it is time for the surface world to pay for their ‘crimes’ against the drow people, and they are responsible for the attacks on Lord Bryson’s citizenry.”

“A city o’ dark elves, y’say?” Jack asked, running his thumb down the razor sharp blade of his axe.  “We better get ta work.”

Coming soon:  Szith Morcane


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## Broccli_Head (Nov 18, 2002)

Heh-heh! Artimas is delightfully smug!


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## darkbard (Nov 18, 2002)

hmmm ... an interesting turn of events (or reactions, really).  i would've expected quinn to see artemis' point of view and jack to spout invective (well, more than he did).  now, what spell was it that artemis cast to learn memories from the drow as she died?


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## Sniktch (Nov 18, 2002)

Yeah, it wasn't really the reaction I expected, either.  Quinn was the one who saw it as the murder of a helpless captive, and to Jack it was one less dark elf, good riddance.  Artimas was really self-assured, too - we thought he was trying to goad Jack, but Jack just wouldn't bite.

Artimas didn't absorb any memories from the drow - the knowledge he shared with the others is what he learned from his conversation with her, nothing less, nothing more.  The last spell he cast in the previous post is actually what stopped her heart, but unfortunately, I really can't reveal any more about it yet.  I promise it'll be quite a surprise when the full details are revealed!


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## darkbard (Nov 18, 2002)

oh, you teaser, you!!


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## Sniktch (Nov 18, 2002)

*The sentries*

They entered the crypts and pushed further into the underground.  As usual, Welby and Malobar scouted about sixty feet ahead of the others, relying upon their natural stealth and magical enhancements to keep them hidden from any watchers in the dark.  They moved slowly to match Igor’s shuffling gait.  The tunnel gradually wound lower and lower beneath the earth until at last it opened into a large cavern.  They paused until the light of Artimas’ torch became visible behind them and then started across the floor of the cave.  

Suddenly, a large black shape sprang out of the darkness at the two scouts.  “Spider!” the elf yelled and Welby dove to the floor, feeling a hairy leg brush against him as he rolled across the floor.  At the same time bowstrings sang out from the darkness and a volley of arrows flew over their heads toward the light of the torch.

Grick heard the warning shout and started forward, grunting in pain when an arrow flew out of the inky tunnel and struck him in the forearm.  Two more arrows whistled out of the gloom and struck Jack standing next to him.  The monk pulled the arrow free and grimaced at the sight of the venomous paste smeared on its head, then broke into a full run and soon came upon the fight between the two rogues and a large, horse-sized spider.  

He jumped right over the combat and continued forward, finding himself approaching a yawning hole in the floor of the cave.  Two dark elves with shortbows melted from the shadows across the opening, firing arrows rapidly at the approaching monk.  Grick plucked one arrow from the air but could not dodge them all and cried out as three more arrows bit into his flesh.  One of the elves then leaped into the opening, grabbing the walls and scrambling on all floors down the chute like a spider, while the other held his ground and readied another shot.

Malobar lunged forward, scoring two hits on the soft underbelly of the spider.  To his dismay, no blood welled from the wounds and the spider showed no signs of feeling any pain from his attack, biting at him with its powerful mandibles and forcing the elf to give ground.  Welby scrambled back into the fray and hacked two of its legs off, and as the spider turned to deal with the threat he plunged his sword into its head up to the hilt, slaying it instantly.  Seeing his opponent fall, Malobar turned to the dark shaft in the ground and drank a potion, gaining for a short length of time the ability to fly.

Quinn ran forward toward the sounds of battle, yelling for Artimas and Jack to follow.  Artimas started off but saw the dwarf was still standing rigid and still in the hallway.  “Jack?” he asked, leaning towards his companion.  The dwarf did not reply for a moment, then a whistling snore came from the depths of his great helm.  Artimas removed Jack’s helmet and discovered that the bold templar had succumbed to the drow's venom and was sound asleep.  The necromancer grabbed the torch from Igor and ordered the zombie to guard the helpless dwarf, then cast a spell and started flying down the passage, fighting to hold back the laughter that welled up within him.

 Grick leaped over the hole in the ground and knocked the dark elf archer from his feet with a vicious kick.  The sentry rolled back out of reach and snapped a shot at point blank range into the half-orc’s gut, then dove over the edge of the pit and started scampering down the walls and out of sight.  Grick tore the last arrow free and raised his flask to his lips, draining several gulps of strong liquor to dull the pain, then hopped onto the lip of the chute and began running down the side with his slippers.  He heard the sound of rushing air as Malobar overtook him and flew past, hot on the drow’s tail.

The passage leveled out after a short descent and the rogue almost caught the fleeing sentry, but then the passage dead-ended at another opening in the floor that the retreating figure disappeared into.  Malobar didn’t hesitate but continued the chase, flying through this second hole and ending up in a larger cavern.  He sensed the dark elf’s form running from him just a few short feet away, but a new shape loomed out of the darkness; the shape of an unarmed dark elf that moved into his path and spit a stream of caustic, burning fluid into the elf’s face.

Grick saw Malobar fly into the hole after the fleeing guard and dropped into the opening behind him.  As soon as he touched down he realized that they were in trouble.  A new figure stepped into the elf’s path and launched a spray of blood that splashed onto the rogue with a sickening sizzle.  This new opponent resembled a dark elf in size and shape, but here all similarity ended.  It was skinless; puss and blood oozing from the exposed muscles, sinews, and organs as it stared malevolently with unlidded eyes.  Beyond this horrifying attacker another large spider and two dark elves with glaives rushed forward to join the combat.

Malobar dodged past the skinless terror but was not quick enough to evade the next dark elf, who opened a long cut along his side as it brought its polearm to bear.  He stepped in past the weapon’s reach and countered, opening two nasty bleeding gouges on the drow.  

Behind him, Grick launched a rapid series of punches and kicks at the bleeding monster, connecting solidly with every blow.  The monk screamed in pain as each successful hit caused a spray of acidic blood to burst from his opponent’s form, and the half-orc fell away, badly burned.  The monster pressed its attack, stepping up and backhanding the monk and driving him into the path of one of its warrior allies, who speared Grick with its glaive.  Four sickening green bolts of magic flew out of the darkness then and sizzled into the monk, who slipped in a patch of his own blood, banged his head off the stone floor, and did not rise again.

Malobar backed up to stand over the body, launching a desperate series of slashes left and right to keep his opponents at bay.  The weird skinless drow and spider moved to flank him while the two dark elf warriors raised their wicked glaives and smiled evilly, while out of the range of his blindsight a dark elf wizard prepared another spell.  The elf considered flying away but could not leave Grick to the tender mercies of the drow.  

He renewed his attack, spinning nimbly to the left and cutting into the warrior he’d already injured, at the same time yelling, “Grick’s down!  I need help!  Hurry!!”


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## Broccli_Head (Nov 18, 2002)

Wow! What a nasty battle....


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## Sniktch (Nov 18, 2002)

*The sentries, pt. 2*

Yeah, it didn't go very well for the players.  I think its the first time it occured to them that their darkvision extends 60' while the dark elves have 120' (which I make FULL use of) - here's the next update on the battle:
__________________________

After felling the spider, Welby ran over to the lip and looked down, but all the action had passed from view already.  The tunnel sloped down at an extreme grade for about fifteen feet but then leveled out to a more manageable descent.  The halfling carefully climbed down to this point before running in pursuit of his companions.  He halted at the next drop, and although he could hear the sounds of combat below, he took the time to examine his surroundings before continuing.  

Two details stuck out from a cursory inspection of the dead-end.  First, the hole in the floor was ringed with strands of burned spider web and a heavy iron ring had been sunk into the stone, perfect for tying a rope to.  Second, the ‘dead-end’ was a smooth wall of solid granite, which the halfling found oddly out of place in these caverns and tunnels of unworked stone.

“What past wall?” he asked the panther-like shadow that rose from the stone floor, and it disappeared through the rock.  It returned brief seconds later and confirmed his suspicions, “Tunnel keeps going.”

Welby nodded and filed the information away for future reference as Quinn and Artimas finally caught up.  The mage was excited about something.

“Do you realize the spider you fought was actually an undead?” the necromancer asked.  “Just think, a whole new form of undead I’ve never had the chance to study!”

“Uh, where Jack?” was the halfling’s reply.

Artimas chuckled, “Oho!  Our brave warrior fell asleep when the first arrow hit him!  I made sure he wasn’t bleeding to death and left Igor to guard him.”

Just then a cry for aid came echoing up the shaft.  “Grick’s down!  I need help!  Hurry!!”

Quinn’s face went ashen and the halfling went into motion.  He pulled his spool of rope from his pack, looped the end through the iron ring, and jumped into the hole, rappelling rapidly to the bottom.  Quinn went down right behind him, and then Artimas followed, slowly floating downward.  

The halfling let go of the rope and fell the last few feet, landing in front of a hideously deformed, skinless drow and stabbing it without hesitation.  Quinn crashed to the ground behind him and grabbed the unconscious monk’s leg, pulling him away from the fighting.  Artimas floated into view and saw another of the strange new undead spiders, then his excitement grew as he saw the skinless drow and immediately recognized it as undead also.  He drew upon his necromantic powers and hurled a spell of binding, freezing both of the lifeless monsters in their tracks.

Malobar had only held the drow off alone for six seconds, but it had seemed an eternity and the elf was now barely standing, bleeding from several new wounds.  “It’s about time!” he exclaimed.  “Now grab Grick and let’s get out of here before the whole city falls on us!”  When he finished speaking the elf flew back up the shaft and started back in the direction of the surface, struggling to remain conscious against the pain of his many wounds.

Quinn agreed.  “The elf is right!  We need to retreat!”  She turned back to Grick and laid her hands upon him.  The half-orc sat up as the healing energy flowed into his body, and Quinn helped him to his feet and boosted him up the rope before grabbing hold and following.  A howling gale of ice and wind suddenly arose in the area and smashed her into the wall, but she managed to keep hold of the rope and climbed out of sight.  Artimas also felt the fury of the storm of ice but luckily the halfling and half-orc were both out of the area.

Welby snarled as the two dark elf warriors stepped in and speared him with their long hafted weapons.  He grabbed one of the glaives as it impaled him and spun to the side, snapping the weapon in half, then charged the drow while it fumbled to draw its sword.  He dealt the drow a nasty wound but had placed himself in a bad position as the other fighter moved into a flanking position and stabbed at him again.  The halfling felt logic and reason boiling away and a red haze filled his vision as his mouth began to froth and foam.

Artimas was worried.  A few drow warriors he could handle but he realized that a wizard was lurking in the darkness, out of the range of their vision.  That and the helter skelter manner of their approach left them completely at the mercies of the cities’ well-prepared defenses.  He pulled a long bone from his spell component pouch and yelled “Welby, look out!” before chanting a string of arcane syllables and snapping the bone in half.  A cone of razor sharp slivers sprayed from the mage's hands, shredding the two motionless undead and badly wounding the two dark elves.  “Now let’s go!  We need to fall back!” he ordered the barbarian.

“No run!” the halfling shouted back and surged forward, cutting both of the dark elves down with disemboweling strikes.  A crackling bolt of electricity flew out of the darkness as well as a volley of arrows but the halfling dodged through the barrage unharmed and ran forward into the darkness.

Artimas was hit by the lightning and bit his lip with the sudden jerking convulsions that passed through his frame.  When his vision cleared he saw the halfling sprint from view and sighed in exasperation.  Anyone else, he thought, anyone else and I would just leave them and tell the others there was nothing I could do, but we need that little bastard.  “Welby’s not retreating!” he called up the hole.  “I’m going to go after him, but we need support.”

Grick and Quinn sat at the top of the shaft while the priestess tended the half-orc’s many wounds.  Grick looked up with pain-glazed eyes when they heard Artimas’ shout and said, “You check on Malobar and Jack.  I go after them.”  The monk got back to his feet and upended his flask, draining its contents in a few fiery swallows.  As the liquor raced through his veins and chased the pain away he smiled and dropped back into the hole, while Quinn said a silent prayer for her friend’s safety and hurried back the way she’d come.


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## Sniktch (Nov 18, 2002)

*The sentries, pt. 3*

Malobar flew back down the tunnel until he came to the standing form of Jack, still snoring peacefully, his armor propping him up.  The zombie stood behind the dwarf where it had been ordered to remain.  The elf landed in front of the dwarf and began smacking him across the face, shouting, “Wake up!  Wake up!”

Jack snorted and his eyes fluttered open, staring at the rogue dubiously.  “What’s goin on?  Where is everyone?”

“They are fighting for their lives against the drow while you are back here catching a nap,” the bleeding elf explained.  “Now, I could use some healing, if you don’t mind.”

The dwarf focused on Malobar and seemed to notice his wounds for the first time.  He laid hands upon his injured companion and prayed to the Lord of Battle, restoring a significant portion of the elf’s lost life, then pushed past him and started running down the hall.  The elf flew after him, exclaiming, “Wrong way!  We need to get out of here! They were too well prepared and now they know we’re here.”

Jack ignored him and ran on, meeting Quinn as she clambered back out of the first shaft.  She pulled herself over the edge and sat gasping for air before speaking.  “Artimas can’t get Welby to pull out and Grick went back down to help.  We have to get back down there.”  

Jack climbed over the edge and the two dwarves raced off to aid their friends, leaving a disgusted Malobar hovering in the cavern.  “Can’t we make up our minds?  We’re all going to be killed,” the elf lamented before following.

*****

Welby ran forward, his entire being focused on the desire to slay and maim.  Artimas and Grick rushed to catch up with him and overtook him just as a hiss sounded from the darkness and another ravening bolt of energy split the air.  The halfling and monk dove to either side and Artimas absorbed the full blast, but not before he saw, briefly illuminated, the wand wielding dark elf that cast the bolt.

“This way,” he directed, changing the course of his flight and sending a fireball in answer with his own wand.  The cave was illuminated briefly by the broiling sphere of flames, and they saw two opponents standing near the edge of a cliff – one archer and the floating mage.  The chilling laughter of drow filled the room as the flames washed over them but failed to overcome their innate resistance.  Another tongue of lightning smashed into Artimas and two arrows thudded into the halfling’s chest.

Welby charged in the direction of his foes and they came into his range of vision.  The drow wizard flew off the ground when it spotted him and dove over the side of the cliff and out of sight, but the archer stood his ground and let fly with two more arrows that bit into Welby’s flesh.  In his current frenzy the little warrior felt no pain and finished his charge, cutting across the drow’s side and exposing its ribs with the powerful blow.  Grick caught up to the halfling and launched a double-fisted punch at the archer, catching it full in the chest and knocking it back and over the side of the cliff.  The dark elf let out a long wailing scream that slowly faded from their range of hearing.

It grew very quiet then and the companions realized that they had driven the drow off, at least for now.  Welby moved up to the chasm and peered over the side, then gasped in amazement and awe at the sight before him.  The canyon dropped straight down more than five hundred feet to a raging river.  Stretched across the cliff wall was a spider web of epic proportions, each strand bigger in diameter than Grick’s barrel-like chest.  The strands stretched back and forth between a series of caves set into the cliff wall at varying heights.  The entire web had been decorated with a great number of permanent faerie fires and danced with an ever-shimmering array of blues, greens, and violets.  It was the most beautiful sight the halfling had ever seen, and, considering its occupants, the most disturbing.

“Whuzzat?” Grick grunted, pointing at the nearest cave.

Welby looked and saw the flying wizard land and begin conversing with a group of drow.  The discussion grew very animated, the floating mage often gesturing toward the cave the three party members watched from.  Soon a group of a dozen dark elves moved onto the web and began scaling up towards the heroes.

Welby backed up from the edge and regarded his friends.  “Now we run,” the halfling informed them and bolted, sprinting for the exit.

Next:  More mayhem coming!  Beyond the wall of stone, Jack is feeling down, and Welby goes solo!  (How low?  So low you can hardly see what he's doing!  Ba-dum dum)


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## Sniktch (Nov 19, 2002)

*Beyond the wall of stone*

In their haste to escape they nearly collided with their other three friends.  Jack, Quinn, and Malobar were just preparing to slide down Welby’s rope when the halfling, monk, and mage came running into view.

“Get back, more come!” Welby shouted as he grabbed the end of the rope and started climbing. 

They stopped at the top of the shaft while Artimas explained what they’d seen below and what might be heading in their direction, and they all agreed that retreat was their best option until they could formulate a better plan of attack.  Jack had already started back down the passage toward the surface when Welby stopped him and called everyone’s attention to the smooth granite wall just past the hole in the floor.

“Not end; tunnel go after wall.  Hide back there?”

“Why, Welby, that’s a good idea,” Quinn stated, moving over to examine the wall.  She placed her hands upon it and murmured a long incantation, and the wall began bubbling and rippling, the stone seeming to melt and flow outward until a door-sized hole had been formed.  The tunnel did indeed continue past the wall, leading to an intersection about thirty feet away.

The party entered the previously blocked hall and started walking, but Welby lingered near the granite wall for a minute.  “Seal hole?” he called after his friends.

Quinn shook her head, “Nay.  If I seal the hole now we will be trapped in here until I have a chance to say my morning prayers again.  We should at least wait until we know what this area holds before locking ourselves in with it.”

The halfling considered her doubtfully for a moment, then nodded and ran to take his position as lead scout.  They took the left branch at the intersection and soon entered a large gallery, bare of noteworthy features save the two enormous piles of spider webs that seemed to grow out of the floor like weird mushrooms.  A huge head protruded from one of the webs when they entered, and Welby and Malobar suddenly found themselves looking into the eight glittering eyes of a cottage-sized spider.  Malobar seized the halfling’s shoulder and pointed to a second monster hiding on the ceiling.

Malobar had just enough time to yell, “Spider!” before the leaping monstrosities were upon them.  He dove under the initial attack, just avoiding the dripping fangs as the gnashed together where his head had just been, spinning in mid-tumble and drawing a long gash along the spider’s soft underbelly.  He felt relief as he saw that this time, the wound was bleeding; these spiders were still living.

Artimas started to fly forward when three streaks of red energy flew out of the hallway behind him and thudded painfully into his backside.  At the same time, a dripping arrow composed completely of acid splashed into Jack and started eating through the dwarf’s platemail and the flesh beneath.  A dry, rustling laugh that reminded them of tearing silk echoed down the tunnel as the magical strikes hit home.

Jack yelled, “We’re surrounded!” and started running back the way they’d just traveled with Quinn and Grick right behind him.  He came into view of his opponents – bloated, monstrous aberrations with the grotesque, distended abdomens of enormous spiders and the torsos and upper body of dark elves.  The driders laughed again at the sight of the heavily laden dwarf crashing through the passage, then they muttered a string of gibberish while rubbing amber rods with swatches of fur.

Welby and Malobar continued their desperate, dodging struggle against the monstrous vermin assaulting them.  They had been lucky thus far; only Welby had received a bite and had easily resisted the venom, while the spiders were bleeding from many wounds.  Suddenly, two bolts of lightning rent the darkness as the driders completed their spells, crackling down the length of the hallway and badly burning both the party members and the huge spiders they faced.  The two rogues made short work of the burned and twitching arachnids and rushed back to join battle with their new opponents.

Jack’s frustrations mounted as he chased the surprisingly agile beasts.  The driders seemed content to launch a burst of spells and then retreat into the darkness, remaining always just on the edge of the dwarf’s vision.  They reached the intersection and scuttled around the corner, disappearing down the passage the group had passed by earlier.  Jack ran to the hallway and skidded to a stop as he saw his foes.

The tunnel opened into another large chamber littered with refuse, and both of the driders sat a mere fifty feet away, taunting him with voices like a thousand droning flies.  “Poor slow dwarf,” they rasped, “you will never catch us.  Surrender now and we will bless you with the glorious form of the drider – continue to resist and you will be food.  Food.”

Jack grinned, thinking that the beasts had underestimated him.  They didn’t know of the magical boots he wore that enhanced his quickness, but they would soon learn of their error.  Roaring a challenge, Jack activated his boots and charged the creatures with the resulting burst of speed.  He smiled grimly as he saw the driders’ eyes widen with shock at his amazing celerity, then felt a sickening lurch as his feet failed to find purchase on the rocky floor and he felt the curious, stomach-turning sensation of falling.

The driders’ mock expressions of surprise melted and their laughter filled the room again as the dwarf disappeared through the illusionary wall covering the open pit in the floor and bounced down the sixty foot drop to the spikes below.


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## Broccli_Head (Nov 19, 2002)

*Re: Beyond the wall of stone*



			
				Sniktch said:
			
		

> *
> 
> The driders’ mock expressions of surprise melted and their laughter filled the room again as the dwarf disappeared through the illusionary wall covering the open pit in the floor and bounced down the sixty foot drop to the spikes below. *




Ouch! That's gotta hurt...


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## darkbard (Nov 20, 2002)

ooh, suckered by a spiked pit trap!  when will that jack learn!?!


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## Sniktch (Nov 21, 2002)

*The drider battle continued and a farewell*

Grick heard the dwarf’s battle cry suddenly cut short, followed by the sound of insectile laughter.  He rounded the corner as he heard a distant muffled crash and beheld the two driders standing about fifty feet away, but saw no sign of Jack.  The misshapen things saw him enter and started floating upwards, levitating off the ground and hiding within the enfolding shadows near the ceiling of the chamber.  Grick leaped into the air, his powerful muscles propelling him across the gap that separated him from his foes and, unbeknownst to him, over the hidden pit where the dwarf had fallen.  

The driders gestured toward the fast approaching monk and six streaking red missiles zipped through the air and burned smoking holes into his flesh.  Grick gritted his teeth to keep from crying out and crashed into one of the monsters, smacking it hard in the chest before gravity took over and he tumbled back to the floor.  The monk immediately raced to the wall and started running upwards to force his opponents back into close combat.

Malobar joined him, flying around the corner and straight toward the closest drider, swinging his shortsword wildly.  The elf felt the shock of impact run up his arm as his sword struck an invisible shield of force and was turned aside.  The monsters scuttled away across the ceiling, flinging another barrage of stinging red missiles into the monk and elf.

Quinn, Artimas, and Welby all reached the intersection at the same time and saw the furious battle raging across the roof of the chamber.  Artimas pulled forth the wand he’d recovered from the dark elf mage they’d faced the day before and pointed it at one of the arachnoid creatures.  A bolt of electricity leaped from the tip of the slender shaft and slammed into one of the driders, sending the monster into a wild series of convulsions as the lightning played up and down its limbs.  Welby sheathed his sword, readied his bow, and disappeared into the shadows, while Quinn prayed to Dumathoin and called forth a beam of red-hot light, unfortunately missing her target and scoring a line of scorched earth across the ceiling.

*****

The dwarf lay stunned and groaning at the bottom of a deep hole.  He slowly recovered his wits and became aware of pain, agony calling from so many wounds that he could not begin to catalogue his many hurts.  He tried sitting up but a wave of nausea passed over him and he realized that he was impaled on several of the wicked spikes sticking up from the floor.

With a great effort, Jack pulled himself free of the spikes and slumped to the ground beside them, his hand pressed to his stomach to keep the guts from spilling forth.  He tried to rise but nearly fainted when he tried to place his weight upon his left ankle and he realized that the bones were shattered.  Probably not the only ones, he thought as he gingerly prodded the injury with his stubby fingers.

Stumpwater Jack concentrated with all his willpower on clearing his mind and fell into a meditative trance.  As his mind sank into an empty void, he began mumbling the mantras of Clangeddin Silverbeard, Dwarf Lord of Battle, and his body became suffused with a glowing, golden aura.  The positive energy spread through his body mending the various cuts, punctures, and breaks – sealing the wicked holes in his stomach and side and fusing the bones in his leg and ankle back together.  The glow winked out and Jack opened his eyes, restored to health save for some minor scrapes and contusions.

“Now,” he said to himself as he rummaged through his pack, “now, we give those driders a surprise they weren’t expecting.”

He retrieved a potion and pulled the cork, draining the contents in one gulp.  The dwarf readied his axe as the potion took effect and he felt his feet lifting off the ground.  A soft chuckle escaped the warrior’s lips as he flew toward the sounds of combat raging above.

*****

Welby readied an arrow and prepared to fire at the back of an unaware drider.  The halfling had moved deep into the shadows of the chamber, well out of reach of the light shed by Artimas’ torch, and it was doubtful the driders were even aware of his presence.  He aimed carefully, seeking a headshot on his closest opponent, when a strange sight almost caused him to drop the weapon.

The figure of Stumpwater Jack floated up from the floor of the room like an avenging apparition and shot upwards at one of their foes, his axe leaving a trail of blue sparks in front of the halfling’s vision.  “Clangeddin!” the angry dwarf roared, coming up underneath one of the monsters and slashing his axe across its soft abdomen.  The drider screamed in pain and ran backwards across the ceiling, surrounding itself with a globe of darkness.

The second creature moved to the side and cast another bolt of lightning through the air, burning through Jack, Grick, and Malobar as they started to pursue the wounded drider through the magical darkness.  It started to weave another spell, but stopped with a sudden outraged shriek when an arrow flew from the gloom and impaled the beast through its side.  The drider whirled around, seeking its unknown attacker, but could see nothing in the direction from which the missile had traveled.  It gestured at the ground and a series of torch-like lights appeared, illuminating the room with a soft glow.

The lights also exposed the small figure of a halfling with an arrow nocked and aimed directly at the drider.  The little warrior loosed his shot and smiled as it buried itself in the beast’s abdomen.  Another globe of pure blackness appeared around the second drider and Welby lowered his bow as Malobar flew into it with his sword drawn.  An ululating scream rang out from the darkness and then the bloated corpse of the drider fell to the ground, the elf slowly floating earthward behind it.

Artimas watched the other globe closely as the monk and dwarf disappeared inside of it after their foe.  Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of the drider emerging from the back of the area of magical darkness and start to flee, trailing its guts behind it.  “Thought to escape?  Think again, foul beast, no one escapes the embrace of Arawn!” he yelled at it and flew in its direction.  The drider whirled and tried one last desperate attack, throwing a trio of missiles to impact harmlessly against the wizard’s magical wards.  Artimas closed the gap and brushed one of his fingers against one the creature’s long legs and it fell apart, aging millennia in a matter of heartbeats.  A dry, desiccated skeleton and a shower of dust fell from the ceiling and the necromancer reveled in the feeling of omnipotence as he bound its shade to his service.

Their opponents defeated, the group set about the task of examining the area and binding their injuries.  The chamber was clear save for the drained husks of the driders’ last meal and a large refuse heap.  Welby plunged into the muck and recovered several gems and a couple of potion bottles, but the stench clinging to the halfling was so strong afterwards that Grick finally held him down while the others poured water over him and washed the miasma away.

The explored the rest of the small cave complex and found one more chamber, empty except for thick cobwebs and the husks of many large spiders.  The area was cleared and secure now and they began to set up camp.  Welby pointed down the hallway the way they had entered and asked, “Now seal hole?”

“Yes, about that.  Welby, I think we’ve been going about this all wrong.  They city is obviously well defended against a frontal assault, and I believe we need to know more about what we’re up against.

“Welby, you are nearly invisible, and in fact you are completely invisible in the absence of light, thanks to that ring you wear.  Why don’t you return to the city alone and scout its defenses while we rest?” Artimas queried.

The halfling nodded, seeing the logic behind the idea.  He had been badly injured in the day’s fighting, but Quinn had cast several spells upon him and he was back to nearly full strength.  Barely three hours had passed since they’d entered the cavern complex and he would not be tired for some time.  It seemed the perfect opportunity to learn more about their foes.

They walked the rogue back to the wall of stone and he stepped through and prepared to climb down the shaft leading to the drow settlement.  He paused and looked back at his friend one last time, a frown playing across his features.  “Seal hole?” he asked again.

Quinn shook her head, “Welby, once I close the hole how will you be able to get back in?”

The halfling scratched his head for a moment before answering, “Um, secret knock?”

The priestess still looked doubtful.  “A secret knock isn’t going to matter.  I cannot cast the spell to reopen the wall until tomorrow morning.  You’ll be stuck on the other side the rest of the day and all night, Welby.”

The halfling shrugged.  “Ok, see you tomorrow.  Welby be fine.”

“No, Welby.  I’ll seal the wall after you return, but I couldn’t bear to leave you stranded out there.  Just hurry back to us and then I’ll cast the spell.”

The halfling had grave misgivings about the hole remaining open.  He knew that he could stay hidden from the dark elves and other denizens of the underdark, but if they sent any drow in pursuit of the group they would find the new hole in the wall of stone immediately.  He seemed about to speak when Malobar joined the debate, patting the barbarian on the shoulder and assuring him, “Don’t worry, little one.  I will remain by the entrance to guard, and I will see the approach of any attackers immediately with my keen senses.  Go scout and return as quickly as possible, and let us worry about what happens in the meantime.”

Welby was still dubious but could see that he wasn’t going to win the argument.  He waved to his friends one last time, then slid into the hole and set out towards Szith Morcane, the city in the canyon.


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## Sniktch (Nov 21, 2002)

*Welby's scouting mission and doom finds the party*

A new team of guards had moved up into the entrance cavern, but thankfully, the halfling noted, no spiders.  Three dark elf warriors and a wizard carried on a joked with each other while watching two of the skinned undead beasts carried the corpses from the earlier battle to the chasm edge and threw them over the side.  Welby made sure his shadowy companion stayed in the wall, completely out of sight, then silently crept around the side of the chamber and approached the canyon.

Gazing back over the side, he noted that two of the thick strands of web were attached to the edge where he could reach them.  A large group of drow had started to patrol the web, and the halfling watched them curiously, wondering why they did not stick to the silky substance.  

He grabbed a discarded shortsword from the cave floor while no one was looking and crawled to the center strand.  He tentatively poked at the web a couple of times until he was satisfied that this particular strand had no adhesive properties.  Then he moved down to the other strand and repeated the process.  This time the sword was held fast by the web, and no amount of shaking or pulling could free it.

The halfling stopped and released the weapon, aware of movement on the cliff.  He watched in horrified awe as a section of the cliff, which he had thought to be a large rock formation, seemed to sprout eight long legs and begin moving along the web in his direction.  He shrank back into the corner of the wall and remained absolutely motionless as a spider of epic proportions scaled the vast web and moved up to the entangled sword.  

The immense arachnid, its abdomen fully sixty feet in diameter, was covered in clumps of thick black hair and bony, razor-sharp protrusions.  It had fiendish glowing red eyes and venom constantly dripped from its gigantic maw.  The spider snapped the sword off the web with its mandibles, bit it in half, and then, realizing that it was not food, spit the broken shards into the abyss and began moving back down the web to its previous perch.

Welby waited until he was sure the spider had moved far away before he relaxed enough to start breathing again.  So some of the webs were sticky, the halfling thought.  He spent the next two hours leaning over the cliff, studying the dark elf patrol and memorizing which strands they moved upon and which ones they avoided.  When he was satisfied that he knew the general layout of the proper pathways he started to withdraw from the area and return to his friends, when another thought occurred to him.  What if another spider laired on the other side of the cliff?  He had better explore more thoroughly in that direction and make sure he knew the answer before he reported back.

The halfling slowly rummaged through his pack, making sure to remain silent, and finally withdrew a small stoppered steel vial.  He uncorked it and drained the contents, then waited for a minute while the enchantment took effect.  When he was sure the potion had had enough time to work its magic the halfling set out again, sliding over the edge of the cliff and scurrying across the wall on all fours.

He crawled to the edge of the web and then about two hundred feet past it but saw no sign of any other monstrous spiders or guards.  He was about to turn back when he noticed a small opening in the wall on the other side of the yawning gulf, about fifty feet away.  Welby moved onto the ceiling and crossed the gap, then cautiously entered the crevice and looked around.

It opened into a small cave with a low ceiling.  The chamber dropped off about halfway in, sloping down about ten feet to form a miniature cliff within the tiny room.  At the base of the slope the halfling saw a bedroll and backpack, neatly rolled and tied and propped against the northern wall.  He peered quizzically around the chamber but could detect no other occupants.

Shrugging, he climbed down to the backpack and unfastened it, then opened the flap to look inside.  As the leather pulled away and exposed the contents, a terrifying figure melted from the shadows, seized the open container, and pulled it way.  The newcomer looked like a strange cross between a dark elf and a spider.  Not a drider, this figure had the same basic shape and appearance of a drow, but her skin had changed to a dusky gray and grown tough and knobby, with tufts of wiry hair covering her form.  The most horrific changes were to her face – she had the glittering, multi-faceted eyes of an insect and her lower fangs had grown outward into a pair of wicked pincers.

She held the backpack close to her side and floated off the ground, hovering near the roof of the chamber.  “Thief!” she hissed in broken common, “I cannot see but know you here.  Show yourself!”

Welby retreated to the top of the slope and remained in the shadows watching the strange woman.  She remained hovering for a long time, whispering to herself and glancing back and forth in a paranoid manner.  He could not understand the language she used, but it sounded almost like she was carrying a running conversation with herself.  The halfling put his hand to the hilt of his small sword and considered attacking with the advantage of surprise, as his ring was obviously effective against this person and he would have a vast advantage over her.  Then something else clicked in his head and he started to exit the crevice.

The first drow they had faced in the upper levels all wore symbols of spiders and spider webs and claimed to be refugees from Szith Morcane.  Then the drow guarding the entrance to the city had all worn the symbols of skulls or no symbol at all.  Now this curious creature again sported the symbol of a spider.  In fact, she had a great hunk of metal forged in the shape of a spider that seemed to be imbedded in her throat.  Perhaps this one was an enemy of the drow currently occupying Szith Morcane and might be persuaded to ally with the party.  

Welby left the crevice, taking careful note of its position.  He did not feel comfortable trying to speak with the creature; she would just think him a thief for looking through her things.  He would tell Artimas about her, though.  The wizard could be very persuasive, and if anyone could convince the strange woman to aid them, it would be he.

The halfling stopped halfway back to the exit, noting new activity on the giant web.  A group of fourteen warriors had emerged from the closest cave to the top and started to ascend.  Welby raced across the wall to catch them and climbed back onto the ledge just behind the last dark elf.  He noted the presence of two of the skinless undead and a wizard in the new group, as well as an imperious looking female in darkened mithral chainmail that seemed to be in charge.

The female barked something at the sentries and they stepped aside to allow the small force to pass. Welby’s heart sank as he realized this group was bound for the upper catacombs and would probably discover his friends in just a few more moments.  Why hadn’t they listened to him and sealed the breach in the wall of stone?  The warriors moved to the hole leading to the surface and started to climb.  The first pair up tied a rope to the metal ring and dropped it back down for the others.  Then the halfling’s worst fears were conceived as he heard the telltale sound of a signal whistle pierce the night.

*****

Malobar waited on the other side of the wall of stone for the halfling to return, alert for any movement or disturbance in the air that would signify that something or someone approached.  Hours passed but the elf maintained his silent, vigilant guard.  Finally, he sensed movement at the lip of the hole leading to Szith Morcane and he tensed expectantly.  Was it the barbarian coming back?

He found the answer soon enough as two drow emerged from the hole.  They fastened a rope to the top and threw it back down the hole and then stood and looked around.  One of them noticed the gaping opening the elf hid behind and pointed, snickering, “Looks like the stupid surface dwellers found the driders we sealed in.  Maybe the cursed things have taken care of our problem for us!”

The other chuckled and replied, “Either way would suit me.  Either we have a few less foolish would-be heroes to deal with or a couple less Spider Kissers.”

More dark elves began to emerge from the hole as the first pair rose and began walking in Malobar’s direction.  The elf braced himself, placed his signal whistle between his lips and pursed them, blowing a ringing note that echoed through the tunnels, then rose and fired an arrow at the nearest drow.

Next session: Things look grim for our heroes; who will survive the drow strike team (if anyone)?  Will Sniktch have a TPK on his hands or will the party manage an amazing escape from sure doom?


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## Sniktch (Nov 21, 2002)

Whoah!  Nice filter software, it won't let me use the word s in a post.  I guess my villains will have to _snicker_ instead.


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## Broccli_Head (Nov 22, 2002)

*Re: Welby's scouting mission and doom finds the party*



> *
> Next session: Things look grim for our heroes; who will survive the drow strike team (if anyone)?  Will Sniktch have a TPK on his hands or will the party manage an amazing escape from sure doom? *




That was really fun reading Welby's solo. The little barbarian is smarter than we think!

I think that some of  players will survive what evil DM Sniktch throws at them.


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## Jinx (Nov 23, 2002)

*Re: Re: Welby's scouting mission and doom finds the party*



			
				Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *
> I think that some of  players will survive what evil DM Sniktch throws at them. *




Well, at least one person will.

-- Quinn's fan club


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## darkbard (Nov 24, 2002)

dagnabbit!  now even the players are throwing us nasty teasers!


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## Jinx (Nov 24, 2002)

darkbard said:
			
		

> *dagnabbit!  now even the players are throwing us nasty teasers! *




Not a teaser, just wishful thinking.


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## Balderdash (Nov 25, 2002)

*Teaser from a player*

I'll give you a teaser ..... I left before welby went searching and i had no idea what happened..  i wish i still didnt.  I am finding it hard not to think ahead and figure out the best way to survive. If one thing is true Arty is nothing if not pragmatic, a master of self preservation.... No matter what.


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## Jinx (Nov 25, 2002)

*Re: Teaser from a player*



			
				Balderdash said:
			
		

> *If one thing is true Arty is nothing if not pragmatic, a master of self preservation.... No matter what. *




You mean a master of preservation, period.


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## MTR (Nov 25, 2002)

Nice story hour guys.  I just stole Welby to be an NPC adventurer in my campaign.


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## beargrzlr (Nov 25, 2002)

MTR said:
			
		

> *Nice story hour guys.  I just stole Welby to be an NPC adventurer in my campaign. *






Thanks, as always the most sincere fom of flattery is imitation.  
I truly am honered to be used in someone elses campaign.


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## MTR (Dec 2, 2002)

Don't be too flattered - he just died horribly and will reappear as an undead


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## NarlethDrider (Dec 2, 2002)

> Shrugging, he climbed down to the backpack and unfastened it, then opened the flap to look inside. As the leather pulled away and exposed the contents, a terrifying figure melted from the shadows, seized the open container, and pulled it way. The newcomer looked like a strange cross between a dark elf and a spider. Not a drider, this figure had the same basic shape and appearance of a drow, but her skin had changed to a dusky gray and grown tough and knobby, with tufts of wiry hair covering her form. The most horrific changes were to her face – she had the glittering, multi-faceted eyes of an insect and her lower fangs had grown outward into a pair of wicked pincers.




Hmmm...this one almost begs to be drawn---now if I only can get over my creative block & draw this  _*drachnid*_


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## NarlethDrider (Dec 3, 2002)

*"Drachnid"*

Any chance you can email me a description of her including items, weapons, jewlry, clothing, etc...?


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## Sniktch (Dec 3, 2002)

*Re: Drachnid*

Sure thing - I'll send you one tonight.  

Still unpacking from my trip, and I did not get any time at all to write while I was gone.  Hopefully, I'll be able to get the Prelude thread updated in the next day or two - after all, I can't leave Welby stoned forever!


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## Sniktch (Dec 9, 2002)

Well, we played last night - I'm working on the write-up now.  Suffice to say that things went about as well as could be expected and we will be seeing a some new faces next time we play.  I've seen some of the new (and old) faces that will be appearing and I have to admit that I'm now starting to feel sorry for the drow...

Should have an update by later tonight if all goes well.


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## Sniktch (Dec 9, 2002)

*The Raid*

The elf’s arrow caught the first drow unaware and plunged into its throat, killing it instantly.  The dark elves were quick to react, however.  The other warrior waved his arm in Malobar’s direction and the elf found himself wreathed in flickering green flames.  Then another dark elf appeared, a female in glittering mithral chain who floated slowly out of the hole, chanting and pointing in the rogue’s direction.  He felt his limbs stiffen and fought against the spell, barely managing to resist the priestess.  Another male flew out of the shaft and fired a loaded crossbow at him, the bolt piercing his leather, the poison starting to race through his veins.  In the background he heard a dark elf yelling, “The surface dwellers are camped right here!  Alert the web team!”

Crap, he thought and bolted down the side passage.  He heard soft footfalls behind him as the dark elves started to pursue.  The priestess shouted another spell at him and a wave of sorrow hit him and almost knocked him to his knees, overcome with the sudden grief, but once again Malobar managed to resist the drow’s spell and continued running as crossbow bolts skipped off the stones around him.  The flying male added his voice to the din and four streaks of eldritch energy flew from his fingertips and struck the elf in the back.

Malobar stumbled but thought, I must not fall, and ran on.  He concentrated on the terrain before him and cut a straight line across the edge of the hidden pit, hoping to lure some of his pursuers into the trap.  He let a grin of satisfaction creep onto his features as he heard the startled yell of the first two warriors behind him, followed by the crashing of their bodies to the spikes below, but then four more tongues of emerald fire bit into him and the expression faded into pain as he continued his desperate flight.

*****

The others jumped to their feet at the sound of the whistle.  “Oh, this is not good,” Jack grumbled.

Quinn turned to Grick, “You’re the fastest, Grick.  Run to the entrance and see what the alarm is for, then come back and let us know.  We will prepare for trouble as best as we are able.”

The half-orc nodded and sprinted out of the chamber.  He reached the end when he heard the elf call for him and turning, saw the glowing green form of Malobar hurtling out of the darkness in his direction.

“Drow raiders, Grick!” the elf shouted.  “They have us trapped - we have to fight!”  In answer to the rogue’s cries tongues of emerald flame shot out of the darkness and slammed into him, knocking him sprawling at the monk’s feet.

Grick knelt and found his companion to be unconscious but still breathing.  Then a gasp of astonishment was torn from his lips as he suddenly became surrounded by an aura of violet flames.  A split second later a crossbow bolt hit him in the side and the world went dark.

Thinking quickly, the monk ripped the bolt free and stuffed it into his pants.  Sure enough, the magical darkness vanished as soon as the missile was obscured and the half-orc could see again.  He grabbed the limp form of Malobar and tossed it over his shoulder, then raced back towards camp yelling.

Artimas had followed the monk from the room, sorting through his scroll organizer as he walked.  He soon found what he was looking for and invoked the spell from the aged parchment, allowing him to cling to sheer surfaces like a spider.  He ascended to the ceiling before continuing, and rounded the corner just in time to see the monk be highlighted by the faerie fire.

Fools, thought the necromancer, I knew we should have sealed the wall behind us.  I will not share their fate, he vowed, they can face this battle without my aid.  With this decision, the mage pressed himself into the crack between two large stalactites, pulled his piwafwi tightly about himself, and remained as still and unmoving as possible.

Meanwhile, the dwarves had spent their time casting their few remaining spells in preparation for the looming assault.  Quinn still wore her armor, but Jack had removed his suit for the evening and it was clear to him he didn’t have time to strap it back on.  He cursed the bebilith that had ruined his armor’s enchantment and deprived him of its protection for the coming ordeal, then cast a spell that surrounded him with a blinking field of multi-colored lights that would serve to deflect incoming missile weapons.  He would have to rely upon this, his shield, and his faith for protection now.  Jack gripped his axe determinedly and moved up to the first bend in the corridor, ready to chop into the first enemy to appear.

Grick rounded the corner and rushed up to Quinn, dumping the elf at her feet and hurriedly explaining the situation to the best of his ability.  As she knelt to tend to the stricken rogue, the monk readied his crossbow and moved to back up the templar.  Jack turned as he approached and asked, “So, where’s Artimas?”

The half-orc only responded with a puzzled stare, so the dwarf elaborated, “He followed ya out ta see what was happenin.  Didn’t ya see what happened ta him?”

Grick shook his head.  “Never saw the wizard.  Didn’t pass me and I didn’t pass him.”

Jack cursed.  “I knew it!  The necromancer’s abandoned us at last.  Found a way out and took it, like the snake he’s always been.”

Quinn finished reviving Malobar, drew her mace, and moved to join the others.  The elf, awake once more, drank a potion of spider climb and moved up to the ceiling, trying to hide himself behind a stalactite despite the faerie fire still outlining him.  As he struggled to find the perfect place, the drow venom finished coursing through his veins and he fell fast asleep, falling with a clatter to the cavern floor.

The tension grew as the heroes waited, and waited, and waited still.  Finally, when their nerves were so taut they had started to shake, one of the skinless undead creatures crashed around the corner and charged.  Jack was ready for it and brought his axe around and into the beast, cleaving through undead flesh and sinew.  Grick fired his crossbow into it at point blank range and retreated, although the undead still showed no sign of slowing.  It halted and punched a fist into Jack, its acidic blood splashing across his naked skin, and then a second creature appeared around the corner and also threw itself towards the dwarf.  The undead were closely followed by a pair of dark elves, who stopped and waved their arms upon sighting the party, cloaking both of the dwarves in the colorful lights that already outlined Malobar and Grick.

Something snapped inside of Jack then - the dwarf’s courage evaporated and the only thought left in his skull became the frantic desire for survival.  He batted one of the aberrations away with his shield and broke from the combat, ignoring a stinging blow as he withdrew.  Running back to the gently snoring rogue, he grasped a steel vial from his potion belt and threw the contents down his throat.  As the effects of the potion of flight began to take hold Jack activated his boots of speed and flew over the heads of his enemies, seeking to escape above all else.

“Jack!”  Quinn screamed as she tried to stave off the attacks of the monsters before her, but the warrior did not slow.  Ignoring several stinging crossbow hits and even a bolt of lightning from one of the assembled drow, the dwarf sped around the corner and out of sight.  Sobbing, Quinn broke from the fight and called upon her last powerful spell, sealing the tunnel with a wall of hewn granite.

She retreated to the small room where they’d made camp and helped Grick move the sleeping elf out of the way.  The monk pointed to the wall keeping their enemies at bay and asked, “Good spell.  Are we safe now?”

Quinn shook her head as the first blows began to fall on the barricade from the other side.


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 9, 2002)

Wow! the heroes are really in trouble now. 

When does the cavalry come riding in?


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## Sniktch (Dec 9, 2002)

*The abandonment of Jack*

BH: Cavalry?  What cavalry?  Unless Artimas and Welby decide to reveal themselves, Quinn and Grick are very much alone!  Jack's decision to run kind of broke the spirit of the remaining members. 

The ironic thing is the vast majority of the assembled drow are actually just level 1 warriors with 4 hp each - if they hadn't been frightened by the sheer number of their opponents, the party may just have stood a fighting chance!

Still, all is not lost yet - let's proceed with the next update:

*****

Welby watched as the dark elves responded to the sound of the whistle, immediately going into a heightened state of readiness.  One of the warriors called out to the sentries standing near the cliff edge and the halfling cursed silently as one of the drow disappeared over the side and the others moved to join the raiding party.  The rogue was quickly losing any hope of being able to influence the outcome of this battle.  He pressed closer to the wall and stared helplessly at the parade of warriors and undead until the last dark elf had passed him, then wriggled up the rope and followed a short distance behind the raiders.  He would at least see what happened and would assist his friends if the opportunity presented itself.  He was nearly as startled as the drow when the glowing dwarf suddenly appeared and zoomed by, chased by two howling dark elf wizards.  They were moving far too quickly for Welby to follow, so he ignored them and continued following the warriors to the site of his companions’ camp.

*****

Jack zoomed over the heads of the startled drow and nearly made it past them untouched – only the last rank of warriors had time to raise their crossbows and fire shots before he zipped over their heads.  He grimaced as a couple of bolts grazed him but kept going.  As he rounded the corner a flying drow materialized in mid-air and raised its arms, throwing a crackling sheet of electricity into the dwarf.  At the same time another drow wizard floated up from the ranks of the assembled warriors and buffeted the flying dwarf with icy winds and large chunks of ice.  Jack ignored both attacks and plowed through the wizard in his path, keeping his boots activated and flying for the surface for all he was worth.

The pair of wizards took up pursuit, one of them leveling a crossbow and hitting Jack with a bolt before he rounded the corner, the other barely clipping him with another lightning bolt.  Next the two downed potions of speed so that they could keep up with the dwarf and zoomed off down the hallway.  Jack struggled to keep his eyes open as the levels of drow toxin built up in his bloodstream and continued his bruising flight, clipping the walls and ricocheting around corners as he remained at top speed.  He rounded a corner and nearly collided with the silent figure standing in the middle of the hallway - Igor!  Artimas had forgotten to collect his pet zombie after the last couple of battles and it remained where he’d left it, still following its last set of instructions.

The zombie ignored the dwarf and he prayed it would provide a split-second distraction so that he could increase his lead on his pursuers.  The tunnel would be much straighter ahead and he wasn’t sure he’d survive another blast of lightning.

The first dark elf sped around the corner and pulled to a stop, regarding the figure before it.  The man had obviously been dead for some time; worms wriggled in empty sockets, rotting flesh dripped from stiffened limbs, and many of the man’s body parts appeared to have been sewed into place.  Still, the figure stood in the middle of the hallway, regarding the approaching wizard with its unseeing eyes.  The second wizard caught up and stopped beside the first.

“Why have you stopped?” he hissed.

The first drow pointed at Igor.  “It looks like he left a guard behind.  I exhausted my spells on that elf earlier and, while I am confident that I can bring down a single, naked dwarf, I chose not to take any unnecessary risks with his undead servant.”

The second wizard sneered, pulled forth a wand, and released a burst of electricity at the zombie.  Igor exploded messily as the current raced through his dead limbs.  The mage put his wand away and turned back to the city, snickering, “Just wait until Susztam hears that you let one of them get away because you were frightened by a zombie.  Let us return to the others before all of the fun is finished.”

“What of the dwarf?”

“Your hesitancy has cost us any chance of catching the dwarf.  He is on the surface now and that is his domain, not ours.  Besides, the coward is insignificant – he left his friends behind to die.  He will not be returning.”

Jack, meanwhile, had reached the exit and sucked in the cool night air gratefully as he exited the confines of the Dorien crypts.  He landed by the wagon and grabbed his riding gear, rushing to his war pony’s side and hastily buckling on the saddle, bit, and harness.  When he was finished he pulled himself astride his trusty steed and kicked it into a trot, steering the pony toward the north and Travensburg.  It appeared that the dark elf wizard’s assessment had been correct – as far as Jack was concerned, everyone else had perished, and he had no plan or desire to return to this foul place ever again.  It was finally time for him to make good on his promise to the dwarf king and finish lifting the curse from Duernfast.

He rode throughout the night, steering far to the east of Lord Bryson’s house and the town of Bryan’s Stone.  He continued riding well into the day before finally stopping to camp, until he and his pony were both in danger of collapsing from exhaustion.  By this time he had left Bryson’s lands far behind, and if he could maintain his pace he’d be back in Travensburg before a fortnight passed.  By this time some of his friends and companions would be dead, but Jack was alive and was not looking back.

*****

Welby stared in horror at the scene before him.  A wall of stone blocked the chamber where his friends had set up camp, and four of the undead creatures they’d faced stood before the hewn granite, raining blow after blow of their acidic fists upon the barrier.  Nearly two dozen dark elves stood watching this scene with expressions of bored amusement, chattering amongst themselves with a combination of the spoken word and flashed hand signals.  While Welby understood none of their words the meaning was clear – these degenerates were enjoying themselves!  He’d sent his shadow through the floor to see what was beyond the wall, and it reported to him that Quinn knelt in prayer just beyond the barricade while Grick was busy draining a small keg of whiskey and the elf slumbered peacefully nearby.  There was no sign of Artimas, and he wondered what had become of the mage.

Unbeknownst to the halfling, the necromancer clung to the ceiling nearby, studying the action happening nearly directly below him.  While the halfling’s thoughts were filled with fear for his friends, the wizard had other things on his mind as he examined the relentless work of the undead below him.  So lovely, he thought, such a perfect creation of death.  I must have one for study – I must learn the secrets of their creation!

Beyond the wall the scene was very much as Welby’s shadow had reported to him.  Malobar was still under the effects of the sleep toxin and snored gently upon his bed of cobwebs and stone.  Quinn prayed fervently for deliverance from this evil, although she did not hold out much hope for survival.  Grick had decided that the final battle was upon him and was busy drinking all of the alcohol he’d carried into the underdark with him.  The half-orc currently wore an expression only slightly less intelligent than that of the average cow, but Quinn still envied him his stupor.  When the end came, Grick would feel no pain.

She rose to her feet then as the first cracks began to appear in the wall, hefting her mace and preparing herself for what might be her final battle.  The wall began to shudder and chips began to fall loose under the continued blows of the undead; soon it would begin.  “Grick!” she whispered meaningfully at her companion, and he shot her a bleary, stupid grin and abandoned the keg he’d been working on, moving to join her for their final defense.


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 9, 2002)

Gotta love those _Kobiashi Maru's!!_


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## Sniktch (Dec 9, 2002)

*The raid concluded.*

BH:  Forgive my ignorance, but what is a _Kobiashi Maru_?  Could you translate for me, please?  I don't think I've ever seen that before.

Here it is, the conclusion of the raid.  There are still a few posts to make before the end of the session; I'll keep posting them as fast as I get them written.

*****

At last the wall was breached, exploding inwards in a shower of fragments as the first undead stepped through.  Grick roared an incoherent battlecry and lurched forward, then somersaulted into the enemies’ ranks with surprising agility and began weaving a tapestry of destruction with his twin butterfly swords.  Quinn yelled, “For Dumathoin!” and joined her friend, hammering the foremost undead with repeated blows of her mace. 

The dark elves hung back, content to let the undead handle the foolish surface dwellers.  Only the white-haired priestess remained on edge, urging her subordinates to crush their foes, to bring about their defeat as quickly as possible.  In response, two of her warriors waved their arms and used their innate talents to surround the dwarf and monk with glowing faerie fire, then two others stepped forward and cast stones towards the combat, stones that they had first enchanted with spells of darkness.

Quinn and Grick were plunged into a desperate battle in the darkness, clearly illuminated for their enemies but unable to see a thing in the inky blackness of the corridor.  They were forced to start giving ground to their opponents but battled on valiantly, destroying the first two undead attackers before they had proceeded more than a couple of steps from the breached wall.  

Velina T’sarran, the drow priestess, snarled as she felt the binding ties to two of her minions severed and added her own might to the battle, chanting a powerful incantation that brought a searing column of divine fire down upon her foes.  She would finish the cursed heroes by herself if need be!  She launched into another spell, and as she finished the complicated casting her body began to grow and contort, her cells ripping themselves apart as she was transformed into the shape of a large monstrosity, an aberration that still resembled her from the waist up but below that took on the appearance and characteristics of a giant spider.  One more prayer and Velina became surrounded by a shimmering aura of fire, a protective ward that would reflect any damage she received back to the attacker who dared stand against her.  Then the transformed priestess unsheathed her dagger, a wicked, curved weapon that dripped acid and venom, and plunged forward into the darkness.

Grick had taken a real beating from the undead attackers, but he was far too drunk to feel the pain of his injuries and chuckled cheerfully as he heard another of the beasts fall lifeless at his feet.  Nearby Quinn battled the last of the creatures in a war of attrition that she was gradually winning.  The monk turned to help her when he sensed a new opponent approach, something quite a bit larger than the undead they had faced so far.  He raised his arms to ward off a blow and ignored the descending blade that cut deep into his bare flesh, then, having guessed the general location of his new opponent, he launched a furious series of swipes and jabs in its direction.  He grunted in satisfaction as felt his swords strike home, then a backlash of fiery energy lifted him off his feet and hurled him unmoving to the cold stones below.

Quinn saw the glowing half-orc fall and yelled, “Grick, no!”  She disengaged from her attacker and rushed to the half-orc’s side, using a minor spell of healing to stabilize him in case he still lived.  She turned to her unseen attackers and threw her weapon down, shouting, “Enough!  You’ve won; I surrender.”

The darkness in the hallway faded and she found herself faced with a grotesque and bloated drider.  A pained expression clouded the drider’s face as it started to fold in upon itself and shrank down until once again it took the form of a female dark elf once more.  Velina smiled wickedly at the submissive dwarf and replied, “Excellent!  It has been so long since we’ve entertained guests – I do so look forward to making your acquaintance.”

*****

Artimas remained still in his hiding place as the drow exited the chamber.  Behind them they dragged the still forms of Grick and Malobar, the monk gravely wounded if he even still lived and the elf still sleeping off the effects of the drow sleep poison, blissfully unaware of his current predicament.  Quinn was still on her feet but had been shackled and was being pulled along by a pair of warriors.  The mage cursed his inability to act, but it was better that someone remained to tell the story, to gather reinforcements and return to end the dark elves’ evil existence.  The necromancer vowed revenge as he watched the last stragglers of the raiding party disappear from view, unaware that a smaller form slipped along stealthily behind them.

He waited a long time until he was certain that he was quite alone before descending the wall and examining the scene.  These drow were certainly messy – most of their supplies had been left at the camp, Jack’s suit of platemail still lay where he had discarded it earlier that evening, and the bodies of the fallen undead still littered the entrance to the room.  The wizard smiled when he made the last discovery and muttered a short string of bizarre syllables, conjuring a floating disk of force.  Another spell rendered him immune to the acidic blood that still seeped from the vanquished undead and then the necromancer cheerfully loaded the disgusting cargo onto the disk and started to make his way toward the surface.  

On the way he came across the scattered remains of Igor where he’d left him just a few hours before.  He started to bypass the ruined corpse when an idea occurred to him.  He stopped the floating disk long enough to pile the remains of his zombie on top and then started off again, now barely able to suppress the chortles of glee that threatened to shake his form.  Oh yes, he’d give these drow a taste of their own medicine – when he returned he’d leave not a single enemy standing.  They would taste his power and they would know fear.

He returned to the cart and noted the absence of Jack’s pony.  This drew a snort of derision from the spellcaster; good riddance, he thought, he was glad to finally be free of that idiot.  He carefully packed his grisly cargo into the storage tanks of embalming fluid he kept on the wagon and then went to one of the outer crypts, returning a short time later with four newly animated skeletons.  He ordered them to guard the cart against all intruders and then issued silent commands to Nibbler and his lurking homunculus, ordering them to patrol the perimeter of the camp and warn him of any disturbances.  Feeling slightly more secure, Artimas finally retired to his cart and fell into his nightly communion with Arawn, renewing his powers for another day.

*****

Welby tagged along with the dark elf force as it returned to Szith Morcane.  He felt little hope of aiding his friends, but at least he would find out where they were held before searching for help to rescue them.  He was not surprised to see the warriors head for the first cave entrance on the cliff face, although the white haired priestess took her leave from the raiders and traveled much further down the cliff before heading into a cave opening.

Welby followed close on the heels of the last pair of dark elf warriors.  Just in case on of the sentries could see invisible beings he activated his hat of disguise, studying the warrior before him carefully and arranging his features to match as closely as possible.  Then he was entering the cave, taking careful mental notes of the defenses he passed and the route back to safety.

‘Entrance, two guards,’ he mouthed silently before moving to the next room.  ‘Eight more guards – one undead,’ he thought and hurried to catch up with the raiding party.  Past the second guard post the hallway split, and most of the warriors turned north and headed for their quarters.  A half a dozen warriors took the south branch and dragged the prisoners behind them, and Welby followed these to a narrow corridor containing many heavy padlocked doors.

The barbarian watched as the dark elves stripped his companions of all their possessions and threw them, nude, into the bare five-foot cells beyond three of the doors.  Certain that he knew where his friends were being held, he withdrew, heading for the surface, hoping that he could find help and return in time to save the captured party members.

He went on alert again as he exited the crypts to the surface and approached the camp.  Lights were burning inside the wagon and four skeletons stood guard around it; definitely not what he remembered.  That could only mean one thing – Artimas had escaped and returned to the camp!

Excited, Welby crept past the undead and made his way under the cart, then knocked at the boards overhead, one rap, then two, then one again, so that Artimas would know he was waiting.  He heard footsteps overhead, then a squeak as the wagon door opened, and then a querulous voice called into the night, “Welby?”

Welby rushed out from under the wagon and embraced the necromancer, burying his face in the soft folds of his robe as repeated sobs wracked his tiny frame.  Artimas gently stroked the halfling’s bald head, repeating, “There, there.  There, there.  Nothing you could have done to effect the outcome, my dear Welby, so don’t blame yourself.”

The warrior soon recovered his composure and stepped back, nodding.  Of course Artimas was right; if he’d interfered in the battle he would have simply joined the list of those killed or captured by the drow.  He cleared his throat and explained why he’d taken so long returning to the wagon, “Follow drow.  Friends alive, in prison.  Know where.  We rescue?”

Artimas shook his head coldly, “No, my friend, they are beyond our aid.  Even if they still live, which I would find highly doubtful, we just do not have the manpower or resources to break them out.  I’m afraid that the best we can do is to gather a new group of companions and return for vengeance.”

Welby pursed his lips and nodded.  He didn’t like it but he did understand.  Artimas was right again; if they attempted a rescue they would simply be throwing their lives away.  But he would remember his friends, he vowed, he would remember them and think of them every time his blade struck home when they’d returned.  There was something else he remembered, too.

“Art, maybe friend near,” he told the mage about his journey underground and the strange, spider-like woman he’d seen in the small cave outside of the city.  “Me not talk – no good with talk.  You talk, though, she listen to you.”

“Good thinking, Welby – you may have located our first recruit.  I have an idea but I will need to borrow your ring.  Take the cart and head back towards Lord Bryson’s manor; he should be informed of the results of our mission.  From there we will return to Brian’s Stone.  We should be able to find plenty of adventurers looking for work.  I’m going to use your ring to fly down and speak with this ‘strange lady’ you describe; I’ll catch up with you as soon as I’m able.”

The halfling nodded again and handed Artimas his ring of the darkhidden.  The wizard thanked him and murmured a spell of flight, then disappeared back into the crypts, pausing only to order his skeletons into an empty closet aboard the wagon.  Welby then secured the horses and set off, blinking to hold back the tears that still threatened to drown him.


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 9, 2002)

_Kobiashi Maru_ is a reference to  Star Trek. At the academy, the trainees would undergo a scenario where they were supposed to rescue a ship of the same name. Romulans would come and blast them. It was an unwinnable situation. Hence the name KM means an unwinnable situation. 

Of note, one person defeated the scenario. Captain James T Kirk. Of course, he cheated to make the scenario winnable.


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## Sniktch (Dec 9, 2002)

*Aha!  It is all so clear to me now!*

Thanks for the clarification, BH.  Yeah, I was afraid I was exposing my ignorance, and I was right, you've found me out.  I am not a Trekkie, and don't know much about that series beyond a few old episodes and what I've seen in the various movies.

Yeah, it was close to an unwinnable situation.  As I've noted, most of the opposition were really not very difficult to overcome, although whether the group could have won a knock-down brawl if they all participated is still doubtful.  The combination of Velina T'Sarran, two drow wizards, and the four undead packed a potent punch.  Still, it was a situation they created with a string of bad decisions, and I expect a much better prepared party the next time they enter the underdark.  Like I said, I almost feel sorry for the dark elves now.

EDIT:  Coming soon:  The formation of a new team, the fate of the prisoners, and Artimas' plans revealed!


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## Donalbain (Dec 10, 2002)

*Good story!*



> EDIT: Coming soon: The formation of a new team, the fate of the prisoners, and Artimas' plans revealed!




Does this mean that your players will use new chars? This Artimas guy's getting better and better...

Btw, good story! Lots of good info for me cause i'll will be DMing CotSQ with my party very soon. Looks like it's goin' to be tough.


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## Sniktch (Dec 10, 2002)

*New Blood, pt 1*

Donalbain: Thanks for the praise!  I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.

Well, a few of them will be using new characters.  I don't believe Welby and Artimas have any plans of leaving just yet.  Still, we will probably not be seeing Jack, Malobar, Grick, or Quinn again any time soon, so its almost a new lineup.

This place is a meat grinder, Donalbain, I hope your group fares better than mine and Ziona's have so far.  Anyway, meet the first new recruit in New Blood, part 1 below:

*****

Artimas placed the ring upon his finger as he reentered the Dorien Crypts, then swooped downward until he had reached the chute leading to the first Szith Morcane guard post.  He slowly hovered down the sharply sloping tunnel and carefully floated over the sentries’ heads, moving very slowly to avoid even the slightest rustle that could betray his presence.  The drow continued to carry on a casual conversation, neither they nor their undead showing any sign of noticing the silent mage pass overhead. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he moved out over the chasm, once again marveling at the breathtaking view of the enormous web and its flickering, multi-colored highlights.  Currently, a large amount of traffic traversed the thick threads connecting the different levels of the dark elf settlement; it appeared that the drow were still on full alert, convincing Artimas even further of the futility of attempting to free their captured companions.

He started flying deliberately in the direction Welby had indicated he would find the crevice, carefully scanning the walls for any sign of the opening in the cliff face.  Finally he spotted the dark crack and entered it, finding exactly the scene the halfling described: a small chamber that sloped abruptly downward about halfway in, creating a kind of miniature cliff within the room.  At the base of the cliff sat a bedroll and backpack, neatly packed and rolled.

“I have come to talk,” he breathed into the dark room.  “Show yourself.”

“Who are you?” The raspy hiss sounded directly behind him and the wizard nearly jumped out of his skin before realizing that he should be as invisible to the strange occupant of the chamber as she currently was to him.  “You ask us to show ourself when you are just a voice from the air.  Well, we hear the voices and they say you are a THIEF!

“Yes, we asks it what it is, mistress, the nasty voices that intrudes upon our solitude.  We will see what it says,” the voice continued muttering quietly, as if in answer to itself.

Artimas moved away from the frightening whispers and considered his course of action carefully.  She might turn out to be a valuable ally but right now he was convinced that she was as crazy as a loon.  “I am an enemy of the Pale Lady,” he replied at length.  “I am an ally of the Spider Kisser Tierak Morcane and I am seeking help in defeating the forces of Kiaransalee currently in control of Szith Morcane.”

His speech had a startling effect.  The frightening being Welby had described to him seemed to materialize from thin air and hung suspended off the ground, her crazy insect eyes staring all around.  The creature wailed and thrashed about for a moment as if in pain, then turned toward the sound of his voice and ranted, “Yes, the Pale Lady!  She has silenced the mistress’s voices – we hear the voices and we listen, the voices all gone now but still we listen.  It is their fault, wicked servants of the Pale One, all their fault!  We will maim them, gnash them, destroy!

She seemed to calm somewhat, cocking her head at an odd angle as if listening before speaking again.  “Come out, ally of the Spider Kisser, come out to parlay if you are not a liar and a thief.  Larala will be nice if friend you be, yes, nice to friend.  She will share with you what the voices tell us, yes, and then the Spider Kissers will have revenge for their mistress.”

Artimas hesitated, swallowing hard.  He really did not wish to expose himself to this psychotic woman, but it seemed the only way to win her aid.  Finally the mage landed a short distance before her and pulled the enchanted ring from his finger, palming it and remaining tense and ready to spring into action.  

She gasped as the figure suddenly manifested before her and then peered at him curiously.  “Mistress, it is not drow, it is human,” she muttered, then moved very close to the wizard and studied him closely.  “Who are you and who sent you?”

“I am Artimas Sendant, and I follow the surface god Arawn.  He sent me here because Kiaransalee trespasses on his demesne by ordering these repeated attacks on the surface lands and he wishes to see them cease.  My companions were all killed or captured in our first assault on the city and now I need aid to accomplish my goals.”

“How did you find us here?”

“One came before me and informed me of your presence.  He believed that you may be a valuable ally in our war against the White Lady’s forces and sent me to ask for your aid.”

“We must discuss it,” she hissed and then melted back into the shadows.  Artimas heard her voice echoing from the walls as she furiously whispered in a strange tongue.  Although he could not understand the language she spoke, he would guess that she was debating or arguing with herself.  At length she appeared before him again and informed him of her decision.  “We will aid, and we will tell you the message we received.  We must strike at the heart of the enemy; we must raid the temple of Kiaransalee.  We will spread glorious death and the temple will fall!”

“Yes, quite, I’m sure.  I thank you for your aid, Larala.  Now I must ask you to await me here while I gather more reinforcements for our purpose.  I will return to you and let you know when the time has arrived to strike.”

“Hurry, human, hurry back to us.  Larala is thirsty for the blood of our enemies.  We will wait for you.”

Artimas bowed and bid the twisted half-drow farewell, then replaced Welby’s ring upon his finger and flew out of the crevice.  He smiled as he passed over the heads of the drow guards on his way back to the surface; he could see the pieces of a new puzzle falling into place.  When he returned, it would be the dark elves who learned the meaning of fear and death, and he would not rest until all of the followers of Kiaransalee were dust.

Next:  New Blood, part 2, or 'More Conversations with the Drow'


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 10, 2002)

I like seeing Artimas with a purpose!

Great job of making Larala a memorable NPC!

Can't wait for more!


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## Capellan (Dec 10, 2002)

*Re: New Blood, pt 1*



			
				Sniktch said:
			
		

> *This place is a meat grinder, Donalbain, I hope your group fares better than mine and Ziona's have so far.*




I'll have to keep that in mind for when I finally run it.  Which will be a long time from now, of course.  Have to finish the CotRE first, for one thing 

I was thinking of transplanting it to the Iron Kingdoms, and running it after Monte Cook's Banewarrens.  I think I can tie the two together quite nicely, and the level seque of the two modules is (at least on paper) pretty much exact.

Plus I like the mental image of technology-using surface dwellers against magic-wielding drow.  Should be fun


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## Sniktch (Dec 11, 2002)

*New Blood, pt 2*

Welby had not been on the road very long when he felt the wagon shake as something landed atop it.  The halfling didn’t flinch or react to the dark figure that hopped down onto the seat next to him other than to say, “Hi Art.”

“You know, Welby, some day it isn’t going to be me who lands beside you.  Haven’t you ever thought of that?”

“Nah.  Smell you coming.”

The wizard snorted in amusement.  “Very funny.  You don’t exactly smell like roses, either.”  Neither adventurer had received the opportunity to bathe on their journey, and the accumulated filth and grime lay thick on both of them.  “Your suggestion was a very good one, my friend,” he continued, dropping a ring into his companion’s waiting palm.  “I believe we can count on that... creature’s assistance when we return.  Now, stop the wagon a moment.  I have things I need to do and I must get inside.”

Welby obediently pulled the horses to a halt and waited patiently for the wizard to enter the cart before setting them back to an easy canter.  The evening’s horrors were already fading in the mind of the rustic and resilient barbarian, and soon he was humming under his breath pleasantly as the soft spring breezes tickled his tattooed pate.

Inside the cart, Artimas hesitated, carefully considering his next move as he scanned the interior of his traveling lab.  It did not take the man long to decide to continue with his planned course of action, and he moved to the back table, where the body of the dark elf priestess lay.  She had not changed at all during the past day, but of course, he thought with a sly grin, she wouldn’t have.  Standing overt the inert form, he began to utter the words to one of his more complicated spells, falling into a slight trance as he wove the art to disrupt a magical effect rather than create one.  He finished the casting and reached down, touching his index finger to the mark of his hand left on the body of the priestess.

Tierak Morcane sat up, gasping like a land-bound fish.  When she recovered her breath she stared around wildly as her eyes slowly came into focus again, relaxing slightly when she saw the necromancer standing before her and realized where she was.

“I had thought to be deep underground by the time you awoke, but there has been a slight change of plans.  The minions of Kiaransalee were more powerful than perhaps I had expected and slaughtered my companions.  Remember what I said about revenge?  I need your help, Tierak, this is your chance,”  the mage spoke slowly and firmly to the disoriented drow

She answered, “When I felt the pain of your spell coursing through me I thought myself betrayed.  Now I see that you are darker and more devious than I believed possible for a human.  Perhaps we are of like mind, but how am I to help?  Remember, I am a cleric without a god.”

He leaned forward and smiled disarmingly, “We are going to a human city named Brian’s Stone not far from here.  A small chapel dedicated to my god is built there.  I am sure that if you throw yourself upon the mercy and wisdom of Arawn, learn his teachings, and beg to be accepted as one of his flock he will take you under his wing, so to speak.”

“Don’t be too sure, _human_,” she emphasized the word.  “Why would your god care about me?”

“Because he is a god, and draws his powers from his worshipers.  And because, as you said, perhaps we are of like mind.  The choice is yours: take the offer I present you and gain revenge on your enemies, or live alone and in strange environments, a refugee from the home where you’ve spent your entire life.”

The jab hit home and her eyes narrowed dangerously.  When she responded, her voice had taken on the musical quality of glittering razors.  “Your point is taken.  Teach me of your god, then, and I will make a decision when we reach this Brian’s Stone.”

The necromancer nodded and reached for a book that he considered the best place to begin.  He remained composed and expressionless, but beneath the veneer his heart leapt in exultation.  She had not said yes, but she had swallowed the bait; he could tell.  She would be his, he knew, and another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

*****

As the first soft hues of dawn crept over the horizon, a very tired halfling pulled his weary team of horses to a halt outside the manor house of Lord Bryson.  He turned and rapped upon the wooden boards behind him, shouting, “Hey Art!  We at Bryson’s house.  Welby goin’ sleep.”  Not bothering to confirm that the mage had heard him, the small fighter pulled his cloak tight around himself and drifted off where he sat.

A few moments later the door of the cart swung open and the necromancer stepped forth.  He shut the door securely behind himself and made his way to the house, knocking loudly with his walking stick once he reached his destination.  A groggy guard answered and reluctantly left to announce the guest to Lord Bryson, Artimas following on his heels despite repeated protests that he remain outside.

The noble was awakened by the sound of tapping at his chamber door, followed by a heated, “No!  I told you, you can’t just barge into the -” and the sound of his bedroom door slamming open.  The wizard’s visit was brief; Artimas explained the reason for his visit and the results of their mission as briefly and brutally as possible, then left as the lord rose and dressed hurriedly, yelling at the guard to prepare his horse so that he could ride to court in the city.

Artimas stopped when he got back to the cart, staring at the slumbering figure in the front seat and shaking his head.  Well, he thought, I suppose he could use the rest, and my ‘pupil’ has plenty to chew on right now.  He climbed up next to the halfling and got the cart moving again, guiding it toward the distant silhouette of the town in the distance.

*****

Many miles away and deep underground, a door swung open, revealing a battered, naked elf.  Malobar lifted his head and strained to see as the stunningly attractive dark elf stepped inside, leaving two males to wait in the corridor.  She stood over him and looked down, sneering, “What have we here?  Another of our weaker cousins forgotten where he belongs?”  Her voice was smooth and silky, like the rustle of a cobra through high grass.

Malobar tried to spit at her but his mouth was completely dry.  He remained silent, staring at her defiantly and determined not to speak or give her any satisfaction no matter the pain visited upon him.

“Ooh, tough guy.  So proud,” she mocked.  “Maybe you can provide me with some momentary entertainment.  Now, I know that at least one of your friends escaped - that pathetic excuse for a dwarf.  But I’m thinking that he wasn’t the only one; I’ve never seen a group of heroes so stupid they didn’t bring a wizard underground.  Make this quick for yourself, elf,” she lied, “tell me who they were.”

Malobar refused to answer and only gazed at her mutely.  She crouched beside him and raised his chin with one forefinger until their eyes locked.  The rogue was instantly smitten, and couldn’t understand why he had been acting like such an unreasonable fool.  This was the fairest being he’d ever laid eyes upon, how could he ever withhold anything from her?  She grinned smugly when she saw his eyes glaze over and jaw go slack, her upper lip curling upward to expose the extremely well-developed fangs that gently dimpled her lower lip.  He would tell her everything she wished to know.

Still coming:  New Blood, part 3 and the prisoners’ fates revealed.


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 11, 2002)

Nasty vampire! 

Or is it Artimas who's the nastier....

Explain Welby to me. Is he just clueless or really doesn't care what Artimas does beneath the canvas?


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## Sniktch (Dec 11, 2002)

*Welby*

Well, I'll leave it to beargrzlr to chime in and fully explain Welby if he wants to, because I'm sure no one really understands him but him.  But I'll give it a go, anyway.  

As we've seen, he's not stupid and is actually quite sharp, but he comes from a completely different culture and has a different viewpoint from the average 'civilized' being.  In his culture shamen and witch doctors do creepy stuff all the time, and warriors sometimes eat the hearts or brains of their enemies to absorb their strength, so maybe he just sees Artimas as another witch doctor.  Artimas has always been nice to him, even sharing meals of rat and such, and in fact, the mage does feel real affection towards the halfling.  Maybe the halfling feels the same way about the wizard.  Artimas is quite charming and charismatic despite his creepy qualities.

Besides, I don't believe the halfling has been introduced to Tierak as of yet 

EDIT:  Oh yeah, and at this point, I'm thinking Artimas is nastier.  He's on another one of his kicks, and I believe he's crossed the line and is NE again.  You won't believe his next recruit 

EDIT 2:  I forgot to also mention that Welby and Artimas have leveled up at this point and will take care of their training during their down time.  For Welby this is another level of shadowdancer, but for Artimas it is his first level of the True Necromancer class.  

*brr*


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## MTR (Dec 11, 2002)

Maybe I'm just clueless here, but I'm confused - what did Artimis do to the Drow?

I'm also running this combined with a dose of out-of-the-dungeon stuff inspired by Banewarrens.  It seems to be going quite well.


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## shilsen (Dec 11, 2002)

MTR said:
			
		

> *Maybe I'm just clueless here, but I'm confused - what did Artimis do to the Drow?*




Some kind of spell that makes the subject appear dead, I guess. T&B has Feign Death, but that only lasts a few hours, so this is probably something else.


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 11, 2002)

Actually I think he killed her and just raised her.


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## MTR (Dec 11, 2002)

Unless the characters have advanced several levels since the descriptions at the start of the thread Artimis can't be much more than a 5th level caster for divine spells.  I don't *think* the Death domain (I'm sure he has it) has any powers that do this.  I can only imagine it's some kind of custom spell.  His companions certainly *thought* she was dead.

[Edit] or she's going to be a new PC and this is DM fiat to introduce it


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## Sniktch (Dec 12, 2002)

*New Blood, pt 3, or An Old Friend*



> _Originally posted by MTR_
> Maybe I'm just clueless here, but I'm confused - what did Artimis do to the Drow?




Actually, shilsen gets the prize here.  Artimas used a scroll of extended feign death created by a higher level caster, so the duration still had many hours left when he dispelled it.  First, he knocked her out with an inflict spell to give the appearance of violence to add to the illusion.  He fully intended to be far away when she woke up but circumstances dictated a new course of action.

Now for the next update, in which Artimas recruits his third new ally.  I want to point out that none of the new characters seen thus far are PC's.  I offered the option of playing Tierak as a PC but no one bit, although Artimas' player is going to control her for the most part, since he's proven so adept at handling the role of the evil death priest.  We'll start to see the new PC's arrive in the next few posts.

*****

Artimas shook the halfling awake when they reached Brian’s Stone.  “Welby, wake up.  I need you to find a suitable inn and stable for our stay.  I have something else that needs seeing to.  Oh, and don’t go into the wagon right now.  Its not safe at the moment.”

Welby scratched his head curiously.  The wizard always had one experiment or another going on in his laboratory, but they weren’t usually dangerous.  Maybe he would tell his shadow to poke its head in later and see what was going on.  Right now his overriding concern was the location of suitable quarters.  Hot meals and soft beds.  He sighed and waved at the departing wizard, then began his search, letting his sensitive nose guide him toward the inn with the best smells exuding from within. 

Artimas strode off in a different direction, a lumpy black sack thrown over his shoulder.  He had always had a talent for finding people and places that would prefer not to be found, and he’d had an opportunity to put that skill to work several times over the winter when they’d visited the city.  The people he went to see now were his least favorite to deal with, but they were the only ones he knew of who could help him accomplish his goal.

As the mage cut across busy streets and cut through narrow alleys, his surroundings began to change, growing more and more shoddy with each road selected.  He moved into the very heart of the worst slums in Brian’s Stone, arriving at a narrow street with ramshackle, derelict buildings yawning emptily on either side, a place long ago abandoned to the insects and rats.  He entered a seemingly abandoned warehouse, but the necromancer was aware that his presence had been detected and hidden watchers now followed his every move.  

He knelt on the stone floor and rapped on the flagstones in a particular pattern at a certain spot, then stood back and waited.  After what seemed an eternity to the anxious wizard a square section of the floor slid back, revealing a steep, spiraling staircase heading down.  Artimas Sendant whispered a silent prayer for his safety as he started down, into the secret temple of the Morrigan.

Eventually the staircase bottomed out into a long, straight corridor.  Alcoves were carved out of the earth at regular intervals along the passageway, occupied by silent suits of armor arranged to give the appearance of stern vigilance.  Artimas knew that if he were an intruder the sentinels would animate to block his path and was pleased by the knowledge that his chosen profession and reputation granted him access to such places.

He followed the corridor to a thick wooden door engraved with an upside-down pentagram and raise his fist to knock.  The door swung inward before he could bring his arm down and he was thrown temporarily off balance.  He recovered quickly and stepped inside, seeing a pale sickly youth with thin greasy hair running his sleeve across his swollen red nose awaiting him within the small entry chamber.  The lad stared at him inquisitively and Artimas replied to his unspoken question, “I must speak with Master Tivelis at once.”

The boy yawned, “The Master is a busy man.  Why should he see you?”

“Tell him Artimas Sendant wishes to see him regarding an urgent matter concerning the disposition of ten thousand gold coins I wish to ‘donate’ to the church.”

The youth swallowed at the sizable sum and hurried off to fetch the high priest of the cult.  Artimas took a seat in one of the plush velvet chairs lining the walls of the room and stared at a tapestry on the wall depicting a gruesome sacrifice as he waited for the boy to return.  About an hour passed before the lad finally returned, motioning for the wizard to follow.  He led through a huge vaulted chamber that served as the chapel, dominated by the high raised dais in the center of the room and the massive block of jet atop it that served as an altar.  From there they entered a twisting warren of tunnels and finally stopped at a brass-bound door deep within the maze.  

“Enter,” called a voice to the youth’s knock, and he beckoned for Artimas to step inside.  The mage entered the room and surveyed his surroundings.  The place was decorated opulently with lush carpets, tapestries of brightly colored silk.  The furniture was also rich, made of rare woods and covered with cushions of all shapes and sizes.  The room’s only occupant was an immensely fat man covered with scars spread out across a large metal couch.  He gazed at the necromancer through bored, half-lidded eyes and yawned, “I was informed you wished to discuss making a donation to our temple.  What exactly do you need me to do?”

The wizard opened the stained black sack he carried and removed the dismembered body of Igor the zombie.  He explained his wishes to the corpulent high priest and the man perked up, intrigued by the wizard’s ingenuity.  He pursed his lips when Artimas was through speaking and queried, “And exactly what did you plan to pay for this service?”

Artimas spoke a number and the man’s eyes lit up with greed.  He bobbed his head agreeably and said, “Yes, I believe we can come to an agreement.  Tell the boy to summon my litter bearers and we will go to the chambers of creation.”  He relayed the commands and soon four massive eunuchs arrived to transport the gluttonous priest and his iron seat.  They journeyed to another portion of the maze-like complex, finally entering a room where such vile acts had been performed that the air had taken on a permanent chill.

Tivelis spent the next several hours preparing for the ritual while Artimas performed his own grisly chore.  While the priest directed his attendants and intoned the prayers and incantations necessary for the final spell, the mage sawed off a circular section of bone and polished it until it was a gleaming ring of ivory.  Then he took a scroll from his case and carefully inscribed the runes of binding around the outer surface of the ring.

The two dark clerics then lifted their voices in combined prayer, calling simultaneously to Arawn and the Morrigan to grant them the energy needed to produce the desired result.  A strong wind began to blow through the chamber, extinguishing all sources of illumination, and a high-pitched keen rose above the wind, threatening to pierce their eardrums.  Abruptly it ceased, pitching the gathering into silent darkness.

Artimas muttered a word and a light flared into existence from the death’s head that topped his cane.  Before him stood a wrathful apparition, staring at him with murderous intention.  The specter resembled a young man with short cropped hair, lean and agile, muscled like a hunting cat.  A mask of dark cloth obscured the lower features of his face but twin orbs of intense hatred glared out from above the swatch of material.  It was the ghost of a man who’d once killed him, the ghost of the Mask.

The spirit was temporarily disoriented.  Its voice came into Artimas’ head.  “You!  I killed you, how can this be?”

“My companions restored me to life.  Now I have restored you, old friend, although not to the same extent.  You are a ghost now.  Jack and Grick slew you for attacking me.  Now enough questions, we have work to do.”

“Bringing me back is the last mistake you’ll ever make,” the incorporeal assassin sneered, taking a threatening step in the wizard’s direction.  “I’m going to finish you now and then go pay my respects to the rest of my idiot ‘friends.’”

Artimas held up his hand, the hand with the ivory ring fashioned from the Mask’s own forearm, and the angry spirit was compelled to halt.  “No, old friend, I’m afraid you don’t have that option.  I didn’t call you back so that you could attack me, I called you back to serve, and serve you shall.  It’s the ultimate revenge, don't you see?  You may have ended my life for a brief moment, but your spirit will be shackled to me forever, my slave for eternity.

“Now begone!  Discorporate until I have need of your services.”

Defeated, the ghost could only wail its rage and frustration as it faded from view.  Artimas turned to Tivelis with the exultation of his triumph clearly written on his face.  He had added a potent tool to his arsenal for the return to the underdark, the most powerful undead weapon he’d ever controlled.  He bowed to the high priest and said, “I thank you, Dread One, for your aid in this matter.  I will arrange the transfer of funds as soon as I return to my quarters.  In the meantime, if I may, just one more favor.

“I seek to hire another wizard to complement my skills when I return to bring death to those who have angered me.  Do you know where I may purchase the services of a suitable candidate?”

Tivelis considered the question and immediately hit upon the answer.  Of course, snickered the priest, it was a perfect way to rid himself of that toad.  He beamed at the servant of Arawn and nodded affirmatively, then called for an acolyte and whispered a series of instructions to the man.  Artimas thanked Tivelis once more and set off into the maze again, following the acolyte back to the living quarters of the complex.  Behind them, unseen and unheard, odorless and weightless, trailed the deadly ghost assassin.

Still to come:  The prisoners’ fates revealed and the exceptional goblin.


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## shilsen (Dec 12, 2002)

*Re: New Blood, pt 3, or An Old Friend*



			
				Sniktch said:
			
		

> * Actually, shilsen gets the prize here. *




Yes, yes, yes!! [Hunts around for his prize. Looks up and sees the new update.] That'll do nicely, thank you very much.

Question: What happened with Jack? Was it a spell, or did the player/PC just decide to beat feet?


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## Stumpwater Jack (Dec 12, 2002)

*Stumpwater Jack*

Well when you're looking at a dozen or so Drow a cleric 2 arcane spell casters and a hand full of undead and you have no armor and half your group is dead or missing the only thing that went through my mind was seeing another day and running was the quickest thing i could think of to get out of that jam.


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 12, 2002)

So will Jack be back?


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## Stumpwater Jack (Dec 12, 2002)

*Jack*

He might be back but i dont think you will be seeing him in the CotSQ any time soon my next PC will be a Deep Gnome Fighter with 2 gnome hooked hammers


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## Sniktch (Dec 13, 2002)

Doubt I'll be able to finish an update today - I've been home with the flu for a couple of days and my son dumped a glass of OJ down the back of the monitor this morning, so I'm just getting back on the computer.

Yeah, no spell or any other effect on Jack, he just turned yellow.  Honestly, this was the last thing I expected from him, but I think he lost some of his fire when the green dragon killed him just before we started this adventure.  I think he's serious about not wanting to mess with the drow anymore, even to the point of fleeing and never trying to figure out what happened to everyone else, and with the direction he picked, I can see him showing up in my PBEM soon since it is currently based in Travensburg.

Stump, what I don't understand is why you keep referring to '2 gnome hooked hammers.'  Its a double weapon, so what are you going to do with the second one???

I'll try to get the next update finished ASAP so that everyone can read about the final fates of Malobar, Grick, and Quinn.


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## Stumpwater Jack (Dec 13, 2002)

*Jack*

First the reason i left was i like Jack always have liked him i just didnt like the group kind of hard to play a lawful good cleric when you got a necromancer in the group i have wanted to find a way to work him out of the group for a while now but never wanted him to get killed and i saw a chance when i saw that the group was going to get killed i took the chance to get away so i ran and didnt look back so if he ever were to meet up with and one he could just play off and say he thought they were all dead cover his butt a little and i have allways wanted to clear out the Dwarven city of Duernfast near Travensburg and i knew that you have a group there and maybe i could join up with them and talk them into clearing out the city with me so thats why i did what i did and as for the hooked hammers i found out i was wrong about them 8)


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## Dungannon (Dec 13, 2002)

I would welcome Jack's assistance in my efforts at Duernfast, as things are rapidly getting beyond me.  But you'll have to learn how to use punctuation first, Jack.


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## Stumpwater Jack (Dec 13, 2002)

*heh*

you are like the 4th person to yell at me about that in the last 15 mins but i cant help it i never use the stuff takes up too much time and i have a hard time as it is remembering where the letters are on the keyboard


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## Sniktch (Dec 13, 2002)

*Quinn's Desperate Plea*

Dungannon, you yourself once said something to the effect of, "Jack's got a great head on his shoulders.... if you need to break down a door!" so I don't see how you can possibly expect him to remember the delicate intricacies of such things as commas and periods.  You'd better be willing to accept the aid of the illiterate or you may have to face the terrible Trembers alone  

Now, for all of you waiting to see what became of the characters taken prisoner by the dark elves, I will end the suspense:

*****

Quinn began to pray as soon as the door swung shut on her cell, pleading with Dumathoin to deliver her from captivity.  She had made a mental note of where her companions were locked up – Grick was on her left and Malobar to the right.  She was really worried about Grick; the monk had been stable but still in critical condition when they were brought here, and she was concerned that the dark elves’ rough handling of her friend had reopened his wounds.  Still, she could do nothing about that now; she could only pray that she was given enough time to commune with her god before her captors came for her.

She reviewed the few remaining spells she had from the day before and the first faint glimmer of hope came into her heart.  If she was given the time and if Dumathoin would but grant her one more she believed she could rescue her companions and escape.

A couple of hours later she was drawn from her meditation by noise in the hallway.  She ignored the sounds at first, a fierce joy burning within her heart.  Dumathoin had heard her pleas and answered; perhaps she would not die in this forsaken place after all!

She was wrenched back into the present situation by the sound of Malobar’s cell door opening.  She could hear voices now from the next room, Malobar’s and a soft, feminine voice.  If she strained she could even make out the words they spoke, but they were in a strange and foreign tongue that she couldn’t understand.

Quinn frowned.  While she had no idea of the meaning of the words, something was still strange.  She would have expected violent resistance from the elf, but Malobar’s voice seemed pleasant and conversational.  Quinn silently muttered the words to one of the prayers still in her memory and suddenly the language made sense and she could understand the words that reached her.

Malobar was talking, “You are correct, milady.  By my count three of my companions are missing and unaccounted for.  The first would be the dwarf, Stumpwater Jack, whom you say abandoned us during the battle.  He is a sturdy fighter and a minor priest of the dwarven war god, but I would not concern myself with him if I were you.

“The other two missing companions could prove to be a much more serious thorn in your side.  They are Artimas Sendant, a human necromancer and priest of Arawn the Death Lord, and Welby Hilltopple, a savage halfling even stealthier than I.  Artimas disappeared at the beginning of the battle but Welby had been sent out beforehand to infiltrate your city and report your defenses back to us.”

Quinn couldn’t believe her ears; the elf was selling them out!  She listened in disbelief as he went on to describe their missing friends in intimate detail, then proceeded to tell his questioners everything he knew about the surrounding countryside and the most likely places to which his friends may have fled.  Throughout it all the only voice she could make out and understand was Malobar’s – she could tell his interrogator was female, but she spoke too softly to be heard clearly through the thick door and walls.

Finally the voice rose sharply, cutting off the elf’s continued ramblings.  “Enough,” it hissed, “I think that will do nicely.  Poor proud dear, you weren’t nearly as tough as you thought you were now, were you?  I must leave you now to speak with my brother Zedarr, but fret not, my pet.  I will leave you in the capable hands of Dejz.

The speaker turned to someone else, “He is all yours now.  You know what to do.”

Malobar’s voice answered, protesting, “But Mistress, I want to stay here with you!”

The only answer he received was a high pitched laugh that started to fade as the source paced away.  The female’s voice called back one last time, causing Quinn’s blood to run cold.  “Oh, and when you finish with the elf, do take care of the others, would you?  I think he told us everything we need to know, and I see no purpose in keeping them around any longer.”

“Milady!” Malobar’s voice cried out in anguish one last time, followed by a choked off, gurgling cry.  The noise spurred Quinn into sudden, desperate action.  She turned to the left hand wall and placed he hands upon it, murmuring another of her left over spells that gradually softened the stone until it took on the consistency of thick clay.  She tore into the weakened rock, clawing at it with both hands and pulling chunks free until she opened a space large enough to stick her head through.

She paused and looked into the next room and saw the still form of Grick lying on the cold floor.  “Grick,” she hissed, “Grick!” but the half-orc was beyond hearing.  He barely clung to life when the drow had tossed him into the small cell, and as the effects of the alcohol and adrenaline wore off his wounds had started to bleed again and he’d breathed his last without ever regaining consciousness.  Of course Quinn did not know this, and only saw that her lifelong friend and companion lay hurt and in need of aid just beyond her fingertips.  

The dwarf redoubled her efforts on the wall and rapidly widened the hole she’d made until it was large enough to squeeze through.  She did so and discovered the truth of her friend’s condition as soon as she touched his cold, lifeless flesh.  Choking back her sudden tears and fighting to stay focused on the present, she lifted the corpse in her arms and began chanting one final prayer, the last blessing granted to her by her deity.

The door to Quinn’s cell swung open a second later and a dark elf male appeared in the threshold, a sated grin on his bloodstained lips.  The smirk gave way to a shocked expression as he surveyed the mess in the tiny cell and the large round hole in the wall.  He raced to the opening and beheld the mud-encrusted dwarf female standing with the half-orc’s corpse in her arms, chanting softly and glowing with a fierce inner light.  The dark elf vampire lunged for the prisoner but a bright flash lit up the room and he was forced to shield his sensitive eyes from the blinding flare.  When his vision returned to normal the chamber was empty - no sign of either prisoner remained.

The undead grimaced as he dispersed into a cloud of vapor and floated down through the myriad cracks in the floor.  Dorinna was not going to be pleased, and he felt very unlucky to be the one forced to deliver the bad news.  At least they still had the elf in their possession; the surface dwellers would be in for a nasty surprise when they returned.

*****

Grick awoke on a barren, windswept plateau and blinked to adjust his sight to the bright light shining down upon him.  When his vision cleared he sat up and examined his surroundings and saw his old friend sitting naked on a nearby rock with her back to him gazing wistfully at the azure sky.  The two companions sat on a ten foot diameter circle of flat ground atop a mighty peak in a majestic range of snow capped purple peaks.  Despite the height he felt no chill but only a soft, comforting warmth exuded from the rock beneath him.  He glanced down and cleared his throat bashfully as he realized that he was as nude as his companion.

Quinn whirled around with a cheerful smile when she heard the monk.  She saw him sitting up, contemplating his nakedness and slowly changing to a bright shade of scarlet.  “Grick!” she yelled joyfully and embraced him in a crushing hug.  “Its good to have you back.”

“Where are we, Quinn?" the monk asked, pulling free.  "I remember getting drunk before the battle but that’s it.  Are we dead and in heaven?”

“Close.  You were dead until just a few moments ago, and we are in heaven, or at least I think this is heaven.  I haven’t quite figured that part out yet.”

“What happened to the others?  Are they all dead?”

“No, actually I believe that most of them escaped, although I don’t think we’ll see any of them any time soon.  I had another vision while I prayed for your return – our friends now travel a dark road and it is not our place to walk beside them.  It is up to Artimas and Welby to decide whether their efforts end in triumph or tragedy.”

Grick fell silent, contemplating the stunning view their high perch offered.  At length his brow furrowed with concentration and he asked, ”So what do we do now?”

The dwarf priestess looked her companion over from head to toe and an impudent giggle escaped her lips.  She reached over and patted his muscular thigh and smiled fondly at him, eliciting another crimson flush that stained his cheeks.  She hesitated, enjoying her friend’s discomfort briefly before relenting and giving him an answer.

“Well, I think now we find something to wear.”


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 13, 2002)

Well, I'm glad Quinn and Grick got out. Poor Malobar. 

Elves have lots of bad luck in your campaign. You got something against  them?


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## Sniktch (Dec 13, 2002)

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *Well, I'm glad Quinn and Grick got out. Poor Malobar.
> 
> Elves have lots of bad luck in your campaign. You got something against  them? *




No, honestly I don't.  They were my favorite race back in my playing days.  But since we started playing 3rd edition elves have been the unluckiest PC's I've ever seen.  A list of all the elves I've seen in this and the other game I run, and what happened to them:

Eli (from the Prelude thread) - dissolved by a gelatinous cube
Eldred (from the Prelude thread) - eventually devoured by trolls.
Malobar - light snack for a vampire

and in my other campaign:
Malhavoc - victim if a death knell from an evil orcish priest
Bayne - a wild elf sorcerer who wandered to close to an ogre.  The ogre rolled box cars for damage and took him to -10 even.
Tobias Hawthorne - elven ranger/devoted defender, another victim of an ogre great club.
and another elf who was around so briefly before being eaten by morghs (sp?) that we only can remember him as "Goatboy" (he was reincarnated as a satyr)

I don't know what gives here but the dice in our game have marked all elves for death.

Incidentally, I want to note that Grick didn't really make it out - he died and was raised by Quinn after she recovered his corpse   As for Quinn, she asked if she could pray for one spell and I dismissed the request off-hand, "Sure, why not?" without thinking too carefully.

Should have remembered Plane Shift.  Oh well, I'm happy she made it out, too (see Dungannon, I'm not that big of a Rat Bastard )


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## datacorrupt (Dec 14, 2002)

*Hey*

Um...  Goatboy started out as an Assimar, not an Elf.  And Britomar (Malobar as you call him) is still cool, and living, in an undead kind of way like the rest of my characters.  *snorts* Mask *snorts*

DC.


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## Sniktch (Dec 14, 2002)

> Goatboy started out as an Assimar, not an Elf




Oh, yeah.  Forgive me, but he was only around for an hour or two before kicking the bucket, so I just kind of mentally categorized him with all those dead elves.


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## Sniktch (Dec 16, 2002)

*The stranger at the King's Arms*

Bruskin stepped into the King’s Arms and surveyed the boisterous afternoon crowd in the hazy, smoke-filled tavern room.  This was a daily ritual for the sorcerer and the method he chose to keep in touch with current events.  He tuned out the confused babble of conversation and concentrated instead on scanning the surface thoughts of the unsuspecting patrons.

“…can’t believe Lord Bryson’s raising the spice tax again…see the way she fawns over him?  They have to be…Harry better watch his fat drunken mouth or I’ll…mm, smell good here, better than dark elf place…”

Bruskin stopped and looked for the source of the last fragment.  Aha, over by the bar, the bald, tattooed halfling purchasing a pair of rooms.  The sorcerer focused his attention upon the diminutive stranger and probed deeper.  The halfling, Welby Hilltopple by name, had just returned from an expedition to the nearby hills.  He had been a member of a group dispatched by Lord Bryson to investigate a number of drow raids that had occurred on the farms and villages near the old Dorien Crypts.  Bruskin sifted through several mental images of an elf, two dwarves, a half-orc, and a dark robed human wearing the holy symbol of Arawn.  Probing further, he learned that the expedition had been a disaster; only the halfling and the servant of Death had returned.  Now they searched for reinforcements to return with them to the underdark, seeking to avenge the defeat and annihilate the dark elven settlement responsible.

Perfect, the sorcerer thought.  He’d trained to fight the drow his whole life, and now it seemed the opportunity presented itself to him.  He broke off the mental contact once he learned everything he wanted to know and began to push his way through the crowd in the direction of the small warrior.

*****

Welby finished haggling with the innkeeper and turned to find a table, two room keys clenched in his fist.  He found himself confronted by a tall human youth with flowing golden hair and a fresh, innocent appearance.  The lad wore a flowing red robe stitched with weird symbols in golden thread, and the halfling’s first thought was, oh, good, a wizard.  He tried to move past the man, but the stranger moved to block his path, extending his hand and asking, “Welby?  Welby Hilltopple, is that you?  Are you staying here?"

The halfling looked from the man to the pair of keys he carried and answered, "Um, no, not stay here.  Sleep in alley after eat."

The stranger ignored the sarcasm.  "I’ve been searching all over for you!  Lord Bryson sent me to find you concerning –“

Welby cut him off and tried to push past, “Not now.  Find table.  Eat.  Then maybe talk.”

“Oh, allow me.”  The robed youth approached one of the tables and leaned over so that he could be heard.  Welby couldn’t hear what he said but it must have worked because the seated men’s eyes grew wide and then a small flurry of activity could be seen as they rapidly collected themselves and left.  The stranger turned back to him and motioned to one of the emptied seats.  Welby shrugged and sat down, and the man took the chair next to him.  He started to speak but Welby interrupted again.

“Said talk after food.  Welby not think when hungry.”

“I understand, my friend.  Allow me to take care of that for you.  Eat all you want tonight, good halfling, the bill is on me.”  The barbarian’s eyes sparkled at the mention of a free meal.  All he could eat, eh?  Maybe he could stand to listen to the man.

Except for what the man wanted.  He introduced himself as Bruskin, a local sorcerer who had heard of their expedition from Bryson and wanted to help.  Welby half-heartedly listened to the man while packing his cheeks with a continuous stream of mutton, ham, cheese, and bread.  Bruskin knew a thing or two about dark elves and their tactics, or so he claimed, and felt that he would make an invaluable addition to their expedition.  Finally the sorcerer concluded his speech and sat waiting expectantly for a response.  “So, am I in?”

Welby shrugged.  “Me not decide.  You talk to Artie; Artie say yes or no.”

“Where is Artie right now?”

Welby shrugged again, “Not know.  Artie be back, you talk to him.”

Bruskin tried a different tact, “OK, but what do you think?  You’ve heard my story, broken bread with me.  Would you like to have me along?  The more the merrier, like they say.”

“Me think you need talk to Artie.”  The halfling abruptly rose and headed back to the bar for another plate and drink, signifying that the conversation was at an end.  Bruskin sighed; he was an obstinate little fellow, wasn’t he?  

The sorcerer rose and called after him, “Alright then, I’ll talk to Artie.  I have a few things I need to take care of before I could leave town – if your friend returns before I do, can you keep him from leaving until I get back?”

Welby nodded and waved him away, and Bruskin, not sure if he’d been heard correctly or not, had no choice but to leave and pray that they had not departed by the time he returned.  The story he’d told the halfling was not the truth, although much of what he’d said was true, but Bruskin was not a local.  He needed to gather his belongings from the inn he’d been rooming in and move them to the King’s Arms so he could be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, and he would prefer to take care of it before he had to pay the other innkeeper for an extra day.

Several hours later, Bruskin headed back to the tavern and discovered that the halfling was still there, but had not seen or heard from his friend yet.  After renting a room and depositing his belongings, he attempted once more to try to force the halfling into making a decision with no better results.  Finally he settled into a chair near the door and waited.  He was still waiting the next morning when Artimas finally arrived in the company of an incredibly ugly halfling.


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## Sniktch (Dec 18, 2002)

*The exceptional goblin.*

Earlier that night, Artimas had still been in the temple of the Morrigan, following an acolyte through the dark warren of tunnels.  They finally stopped in front of a door and the acolyte knocked forcefully, then waited a minute and knocked again.  “Come in,” croaked a voice from inside at last.

The acolyte pushed the portal inward, revealing a dark, gloomy chamber that obviously belonged to a wizard of some variety.  Shelves of books on a bizarre variety of subjects lined the one of the walls, and more shelves circled the rest of the room, overloaded with murky glass containers containing preserved organs and other spell components.  At one point a brass cage was suspended from the ceiling, containing a disheveled stirge that rested on a perch and stared quizzically at the new entries.

The only other occupant of the room rested upon a heap of pillows piled into one corner.  It was a goblin, but ugly and misshapen even for a goblin.  Its body was shriveled and obviously weak, its face inordinately wrinkled and pinched, and its creased and lumpy head was so large that Artimas wondered how it remained sitting upright.  It was clad in a rust colored skirt and wore a black cape, but was otherwise naked from the waist up.  A large iron ring pierced its left nipple, and smaller hoops protruded through its lips, nose, and ears.  A fine golden chain connected all of these various adornments.

Artimas took in the surroundings while the acolyte moved across the room and whispered a message to the sickly humanoid and then left, shutting the door behind him.  The goblin nodded its head several times and then turned to regard the curious visitor.  Meanwhile, Artimas moved over to the bookshelf and started scanning the titles.  OK, he mused, so I’m supposed to wait here with this apprentice until its master returns.  Oh well, at least I’ll have a chance to check out his stuff.  Most of the titles concerned the nature of space and the planes, traveling between planes, and summoning bizarre entities from dimensions located beyond the realm of normal human understanding.  He shuddered at several of the titles he glimpsed, including The Necronomicon and Yog-Sothoth: The Key and the Gate.

After a few minutes Artimas began to grow tired of the wait and turned to find the goblin still regarding him thoughtfully.  He sniffed disdainfully, “When do you expect your master to return?”  The goblin did not answer but continued to sit and stare, so Artimas repeated the question in several different languages, but still failed to elicit a response.  The necromancer shrugged, annoyed, and turned back to perusing the contents of the shelves.  Well, he thought, whoever this wizard is, from looking at his belongings I’d guess him to be at least as powerful as I.

Thinking to better gauge the power of the mage he hoped to recruit soon, Artimas mumbled an incantation and turned to study the room’s contents again now that could see the magical auras it contained.  Several of the books on the shelves contained spells, and Artimas examined those first.  He quickly reassessed his opinion of the unknown spellcaster; whoever he was, the man was actually a more advanced mage than Artimas.  The necromancer also deduced that the wizard he’d been sent to meet was a specialist in spells from the conjuration and divination schools of magic.

He turned to scan the rest of the chamber again, and that’s when he received his first real shock.  The goblin wore several items of great power, including a circlet of greenish metal, the iron ring that pierced its nipple, the black cape draped over its shoulders, and a gold ring set with a red stone on its right ring finger.  Could it be?  No, he decided, although it was hard to understand why any mage with half an ounce of common sense would trust such items in a goblin’s care.

He moved over to the birdcage and peered in at the stirge resting inside.  It stared back at him quizzically, and he sensed intelligence behind its stare, much more than he would expect from such a beast.  “Familiar, then,” he decided, and then the stirge did something disturbing and gross.  It gave a little shake, ruffling its feather, then opened its beak in a great yawn, continued opening its beak past the point of any jawbone’s endurance or flexibility, and then turned itself inside out.  The whole process took less than a second, and now instead of a stirge the necromancer beheld an oddly glistening mass of flesh and undulating tentacles that dripped a thin slime onto the cage bottom.

He shook his head and turned away, murmuring, “Nice pet.”  

“Thank you, but I believe being called pet he likes not,” croaked the goblin in reply.

Artimas turned back to the squat, lumpy humanoid.  “Oho, so it can speak!  I was starting to despair of ever getting any answers.  I’ve been guided here with the understanding that I would meet a wizard capable of assisting me in my current quest.  Again I must ask you, where is your master and when will he return?”

The goblin resumed its silence, gazing stoically at the necromancer with a small frown creasing its lower lip.  In a flash of insight Artimas suddenly understood.  “Oh, wait, you’re not the apprentice here, are you?”  The creature shook its head and Artimas continued, “My apologies, friend, I didn’t mean – well, you see, I just assumed – “

The goblin cracked a smile and rescued the wizard from his fumbling apology, “Worry not.  Used to it I am.”

“Yes, I suppose you must be.  Well, anyway, I – I suppose the acolyte already informed you of why I was here.”

“Correct.  Battle with drow you do.  Help you need in your fight.  Aid you I can, yes.”  The goblin slowly levitated off of its cushions and floated across the room to stand before him.  “Artimas Sendant, pleased am I to meet you.  Heard of you, yes.  I am Higreld Pel Loathegrot, smartest goblin alive.  

Now, tell me: why should Higreld aid you?  What, forgive me, is in it for me?”

Artimas stumbled over his reply.  He had expected this question, but not this questioner.  “Uh, well.  During my encounters so far with the dark elves they have proved to be rich in magical power, and I have faced a multitude of drow wizards.  Somewhere in that city are the quarters and studies of those wizards, and their spellbooks.  You could stand to profit greatly from gaining access to that cache of knowledge.  In addition, of course, you’d be accepted as a full member of our adventuring company, thus entitled to an equal share of any loot gained.”

Higreld considered the proposal.  “And fighting dark elves you are.  Will any squids there be? Terrible power have the squids, terrible.”

Artimas assumed he referred to illithids.  “Hmm, well, none that I know of, but I suppose there’s always the possibility.”

A shudder wracked the goblin’s twisted frame and he said, “Cannot be helped I suppose.  Very well.  Come with you I shall.  Now help me pack.”

*****

A short time later the goblin and the necromancer stood side by side within the abandoned warehouse.  Artimas looked down at his new companion and frowned.  “I’m not sure you should wander around looking like that,” he informed the gnarled conjurer, who floated along two feet off the ground, the stirge back to its normal appearance and perched upon his shoulder.

“Yes, mustn’t forget.  Townsfolk like goblins not.”  He waved his hands about while reciting a peculiar verse and the his features began to melt and run together, the very pigments of his skin changing noticeably as a new face began to appear.  Soon a halfling of hideous appearance stood before the priest of Arawn, a small songbird resting on his shoulder.  “One halfling in the group already you said.  Now, until town we leave, you have two.”

Artimas shook his head, an ironic smile folding his lips.  He wondered how the halfling would react to his new companions when he learned of all of their true natures.  “Well, in a couple of days I guess I’ll find out,” he muttered to himself as the two magi headed off to find the inn the barbarian had checked into.

A short time later, Artimas found himself confronted by an eager young sorcerer named Bruskin who was eager to join the fight against the drow.  “Please, I can be very valuable to your cause if you would give me the chance.  I have researched the dark elves extensively and am strong in my art.”

”Whatever.  Welby, what do you think of Bruskin here?”

The halfling paused from his current activity, which was wolfing down an enormous stack of pancakes as quickly as possible.  Pancakes that, the halfling considered, Bruskin had paid for.  In fact, he’d been eating almost the entire time he’d been at the King’s Arms, and the sorcerer had paid for all of it.  Good enough, decided Welby.  He nodded at Artimas, “Yeah, he okay.”

“Good enough.  But I want you to understand that there are conditions to your membership, although I do not feel like going into the details at this moment.  I’m rather exhausted.  Do you have my room key, Welby?  I need to go to the wagon for one last thing and them I’m off to bed.”

The barbarian handed his friend a key, motioning surreptitiously to the other halfling who stood there.  “Oh yes,” Artimas answered the unspoken question.  “How rude of me.  Welby, meet our new wizard Higreld Pel.  Higreld, this is Welby, the person I told you about.  Now follow me, H. P., I’ve got someone else I want you to meet.”

‘Someone else?’ wondered Welby, but then a waitress set a fresh plate before him and the thought disappeared. 

Next: A round of introductions then the return to the Dorien Crypts.


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 18, 2002)

So what's this? A goblin who talks like Yoda and is into Cthulu?

HP L.... indeed


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## Sniktch (Dec 18, 2002)

*HP Loathegrot*

Yes, I'm afraid so.  I can't be blamed for this one (well, maybe a little).  Since Artimas was recruiting new help, I gave my players the option of creating characters that were a little creepier and off-beat then normal, and opened up a large number of the evil humanoid races for use as PC's.  Enter HP Loathegrot, goblin alienist.

I'm not sure the speech was intentional, at first, but we all soon picked up on it and the player is stuck with it now   Oh, btw he's also extremely masochistic, which I'm sure we'll start to see in the next session.  *Sigh*  I'm afraid my game is degenerating into a creepy comedy.

I've only hinted at it so far, but Bruskin is also not all he appears to be.  We'll see his true nature exposed once they leave town.  I think the new lineup is interesting - definitely the oddest collection of PC's I've ever run in a game.  I'm really looking forward to seeing how the group does in action.  Still have two new PC's to introduce (as Jack revealed, at least one is a deep gnome), but we won't see them until the group gets back to the underdark (obviously).

What this does mean is that even though Quinn and Grick survived they won't be rejoining the group.  Quinn did some scrying and she does not like the new party at all, so its far more likely that the two of them will head to Travensburg and join Jack and Filthy Ike in my PBEM.


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## Jameumz (Dec 18, 2002)

*most sorry, I am*

My fault! Alllll my fault! Higreld's without a doubt the oddest, non-standard character I've ever stepped into the shoes of.
His original speech boasted impeccable grammar, but featured a voice that sounded like a nightmarish blend of Muppet Babies Animal and that creepy little psychic lady from Poltergeist.
Regardless, I dig 'im. I'll have a background wrote for him someday soon, I swears.


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## Sniktch (Dec 21, 2002)

*A round of introductions*

Before I get to the update, I started a second Rogue's Gallery in which to post various NPC's and monsters that the (anti?)heroes face.  I'm not going to provide a ling to avoid tempting my players, but otherwise will trust them to stay away from it.  I started with Larala and Tierak, two current allies of the group, but I plan on throwing up some of the bad guys soon.  

*****

Artimas entered the wagon and found Tierak sitting at the small desk, sleeping with her head resting on the open pages of a book.  Artimas shook his head.  She looked so peaceful, so beautiful when she was asleep, if only… but never mind.  He was unused to such thoughts.  It was probably just the lack of sleep taking its toll.  

Higreld entered behind him and the necromancer motioned to the sleeping dark elf.  “It seems introductions may have to wait.  In the meantime, I know your disguise will wear off soon – you can hide in here until we leave town.  I’m sure you’ll find plenty to occupy yourself with.  If you need sleep you can always climb in here.”  He moved over to the small bed and opened a hidden panel on its side.  It swung open to reveal a small crawlspace comfortably lined with velvet and felt.  The space was originally built to house a vampire servant, but had been empty since that servant was destroyed facing the green dragon Hy’Sharr.

Higreld bobbed his head up and down agreeably, giving Artimas the impression that he was about to collapse under the weight of his over-sized skull, then moved to the bookcase and began unpacking volumes and placing them on the lower, empty shelves.  Artimas gently shook Tierak awake and moved her to the bed, then left the drow and goblin to their own devices and headed back into the inn.  He did not stop to talk again with Welby or the young, eager sorcerer, but continued straight to his room and collapsed into bed.

That evening Artimas smuggled Tierak out of the wagon and took her to the small chapel of Arawn located near the city crypts.  He left her in the care of the resident priest with orders to ordain the dark elf as a full-fledged priestess of Arawn.  The man seemed reluctant but had no choice but to follow the order, as Artimas far outranked him in the church hierarchy.  Once he was sure his charge was being taken care of, the mage found an acolyte and dictated a letter to be delivered to the leaders of the church in Greystone.  It informed them of his desire to prolong his career and asked for their blessing to begin work on his phylactery.  He planned to start anyway, confident he knew what his superiors’ decision would be.

He waited until early morning, taking a quick nap after he’d said his prayers at midnight, when at last Tierak reappeared with an expression of exultation, wearing a holy symbol of Arawn.  Artimas was not surprised; he’d had no doubt his god would take the opportunity to spread his worship, especially with a talented and charismatic individual like Tierak.  They left the temple together and made it back to the King’s Arms just before dawn broke the horizon.

The companions remained at Brian’s Stone for the rest of the week.  Artimas kept to his room or the wagon, refusing repeatedly to explain to Bruskin the conditions of his membership or what had happened to the other halfling who’d been with him when they’d met.  Each time the sorcerer approached him the necromancer only smiled and said, “All will be revealed when the city walls lie behind us.”  

One other strange event occurred in the middle of the week.  Artimas, Higreld, and Tierak were discussing the layout of Szith Morcane and possible strategies of attack when suddenly the goblin’s face scrunched up and he peered quizically into the air.  All three of the spellcasters felt the intruding presence - they were being watched!  Loathegrot exchanged quick glances with his companions and then exerted his will, suddenly severing the connection and driving the spying presence away.

On the last day of their stay a package arrived for Artimas, carried by a young man he recognized as a follower of the Morrigan.  He carried it out to the wagon and opened it excitedly while Higreld and Tierak watched, revealing a shiny shirt of mithral links and a fancy rapier, designed specifically for use by the spectral killer hovering near.  A second delivery came from the armorsmith - twelve suits of chainmail.  One last arrival showed up near dark, and carried thirteen scythes.  Artimas loaded all of it onto the cart and informed the others that they would leave in the morning.  

They set out as soon as Welby finished his breakfast, and rode until they reached the entrance to the old crypts, stopping for lunch at midday.  Night fell as they started to set up camp and Artimas informed them that it was time for all of the companions to be introduced.  At his cue, the wagon door opened and an incredibly ugly goblin floated into view and hovered beside the necromancer.  “Higreld Pel Loathegrot, the mage I hired,” Artimas explained.

Welby looked at the twisted creature in surprise.  “Hey!  You not halfling!”  The goblin only shook his head and smiled a smile full of small sharp teeth.

Bruskin’s reaction was quite different.  His eyes flashed red as the goblin stepped into view, and he nodded absently, as if to himself.  “Very well.  As long as we are revealing secrets, here is mine.”  His features melted and flowed together and became those of a dark haired elf with glowing red eyes.  Meanwhile, the bones in his back knitted together, tore themselves back apart and gradually protruded until a great set of batlike wings grew from the sorcerer’s back.  “This is why I wanted so badly to fight the drow.  Years ago my great grandmother was captured by them and forced to mate with demons in a horrific ritual.  She was rescued but by that time already carried my grandfather.  Now it is time to pay them back for their wicked acts!”

A crooked smile twisted the necromancer’s lips as Bruskin the fey’ri wrapped up his statement.  He motioned to the cart and another figure stepped forth, a tall beautiful drow priestess wearing a shirt of glittering mithral.  Bruskin gasped and drew his weapon, and Welby pointed at the dark elf and yelled, “Hey!  You not dead!”

A snarl of hatred curled Bruskin’s features but before he could act, a translucent figure coalesced between him and the object of his malice.  The ghost held a rapier in its outstretched hand and glared venomously at the fey’ri as it whispered, “Oh, please try it, I would so love to spill your blood.”

Bruskin paled and lowered his weapon, but Welby had a more violent reaction.  “Arty, that Mask!” he cried, running over to the necromancer and grasping his black robes.  “That Mask!”

Artimas attempted to calm his friend, “Yes, it is, Welby, but he cannot hurt you.  He is entirely under my control.”  He turned to the sorcerer and continued, “And this should serve as an example to you.  Behold the price of betraying me, and should you think to do so, know that you will share his fate - everlasting servitude.  And thus, we reach the conditions of your membership.  First, that you must cooperate with the individuals seen before you, and second, that I am in charge of this venture and you will defer to my wishes in all matters.  I offer you the option of turning back if this does not appeal to you.”

“How can you ask me to work with this being?  Her kind is responsible for my condition!” shouted Bruskin.  Welby continued to cling to Artimas’ robes and stare at the apparition of the Mask in fear.  

Tierak sneered at the sorcerer, “Then you should thank us.  Your form is far superior to that of the common, weakling elf.  Besides, it could not have been my people who did this.  No worshipper of Lolth would ever leave an elf alive - your ancestor was captured by some other faction.”

Bruskin bristled at the insult but Artimas intervened and tried to smooth things over as best he could.  “Now, we all are gathered to fight the same foe.  All of us are hear to kill drow, and is it not said that the enemy of my enemy is my friend?  There are few of us as it is, let us not worsen things by fighting amongst ourselves.  In the morning we will attack the city and slay all who stand against us.  So what say you Bruskin; is it worth allying with one drow to have the chance to kill dozens?”

The fey’ri found himself drawn to this logic and was somewhat appeased.  The Mask faded away, and Welby calmed considerably once the ghost was out of sight.  He briefly considered running away from this situation and this gathering of strange and scary people, but he was still too angry at the loss of his friends.  He would put up with their company if it meant a chance for vengeance.

With the immediate hostilities diffused the group went about setting up their camp again.  Just before returning to the wagon to rest for a couple of hours, Artimas and Tierak entered the crypts alone.  They returned shortly followed by a small army of undead - the shadow of the roper slain on their previous visit, thirteen skeletons from the common crypts, and the zombies of Tierak’s former companions.  Artimas drifted off to sleep satisfied with his preparations.  When he woke, Szith Morcane was going to burn.

(All caught up finally, at least until next session)


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 21, 2002)

Maybe Welby should run to join Quinn and Grick!


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## Sniktch (Dec 21, 2002)

*Re: Welby*

He might if he realized they were alive.  Quinn sent Artimas a sending to let them know they had survived and wouldn't be coming back any time soon, but the mage has chosen to withhold this information to keep Welby's grief and rage piqued.

I can see Welby's alignment either shifting more towards N (which he's always been closer to IMHO anyway), or who knows?  This is a nasty adventure and we may see another house cleaning before its all through.


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## Krellic (Dec 22, 2002)

I liked the previous party but Artimas's Army of Doom has a certain chilling charm...


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## NarlethDrider (Jan 2, 2003)

*like, bump* 

Hope to have ya the concept art for the fang gal this weekend---maybe even yoda-goblin


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## Stumpwater Jack (Jan 3, 2003)

*The next installment?*

So when we going to get the next installment to the story hour?


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## Sniktch (Jan 3, 2003)

*Re: The next installment?*



			
				Stumpwater Jack said:
			
		

> *So when we going to get the next installment to the story hour? *




Um, Jack, we kinda have to play again first.  I'd expect you of all people to know that


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## Donalbain (Jan 8, 2003)

*New Session?*

Did you guys had a new session recently? And do we get an Rogue Gallery update for the new chars?

Keep up the good work. It's all very interesting for me cause in a few sessions (1-2months) i'll be sending my party into the City of the Spider Queen! Hope we dont have to have a party-makeover .  Any chance for an aasimar monk9, a wood elf 3rog/4bar/2ftr, a sun elf wiz9/sor1 and a halfling rog1/clr9 of Brandobaris?


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## Sniktch (Jan 9, 2003)

Thanks, Donalbain.  We're actually playing this Saturday, so look for new updates next week!  I believe H.P. is over in the Rogue's Gallery, as well as Bruskin, but my other players have yet to post their sheets or get them to me to post. (nudge, nudge)

I also asked Welby and Arty's characters to post their sheets after their recent level-up so they can update them in the future.  Plus I have Tierak and Larala posted in a new thread - I'm going to post the Mask there too but Arty's player borrowed his sheet and hasn't returned it yet (Bad Balderdash! )

I think your party will do just fine as long as the players bring plenty of spells, etc to cancel out the drows' huge advantage underground, i.e. plenty of daylight spells.  I know thats what my players are bringing back with them this time


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## Sniktch (Jan 13, 2003)

*The Assault on Szith Morcane, pt.1*

*A new friend?* 

When Welby woke up he found that all of the others had risen before him and were squatting around a rough map of Szith Morcane’s giant web scratched in the dirt.  Tierak used a stick to add symbols to the diagram, explaining the layout to her new companions.  The disdainful sneer never left her face.

“Ah, Welby, awake at last I see,” Artimas rose and dusted off his robes absently while striding over to stand before the halfling.  “We are almost ready to begin our little war, but I need a favor from you first.  Do you think you could sneak back to the crevice in the canyon and inform Larala that the time has come to strike?  The two of you could probably slip right past the dark elf guards like wraiths.”

Welby yawned and rubbed his chin, “Sure, Arty.  Eat first?”

The necromancer laughed, “Of course!  I wouldn’t dream of sending you off without a meal.  Your belly would rumble and give us away!  It’s already cooked – go look by the fire.”

A half-hour later the stealthy warrior was padding softly through the Dorien Crypts toward the dark elf settlement.  He was more silent than a falling leaf on a still day and no dweller of the underdark could see him without magical aid, so he was a bit startled when the attack came.  As he approached the room containing the first downward chute a pair of black spiders the size of ponies leaped out of the darkness and landed in front of him, flailing at the air with their foremost legs and trying to bite with their powerful mandibles.

Welby drew his sword and hacked into the first spider, cleaving off several of its legs and nearly immobilizing it.  He finished it with a stab and turned to face the other when the situation took a turn for the worse.  Suddenly three torch-like flames appeared above his head, illuminating the fight.  A second later the halfling found himself wreathed in glowing purple flames.

*****

Something other than drow watched the combat unfold.  In the tunnel behind Welby stood a small clump of three-foot tall mushrooms, a common sight in subterranean areas.  Both the halfling and the dark elves would have been very interested to know that one of the puffballs was much more than it seemed and watched the unfolding drama intently.  The oddly shaped fungus was in reality a cleverly disguised svirfneblin named Gnish who had been waiting for something like this to happen.

Gnish was growing more frustrated by the day.  About a week ago he’d returned from a prospecting trip to find his village destroyed and the occupants slaughtered.  Just like that all of his friends and relatives were gone and he was left alone.  It was not too difficult to figure out who was responsible – the dark elves had not even bothered to remove their own dead from the wreckage.  Gripped by murderous rage and a burning desire for vengeance, the deep gnome followed the trail of the killers back to Szith Morcane.  Unfortunately, he found the dark elves on edge and in a state of heightened readiness, and he’d had very little opportunity to slake his blood thirst.

Now this strange halfling had stumbled upon the guard post and a battle raged.  The deep gnome wondered momentarily where the small warrior came from – he’d heard or seen nothing pass him, but he did not wonder long.  The enemy of my enemy of my friend, Gnish thought and went into action.  With a thought his disguise dropped and instead of a tall, oddly shaped puffball a sturdy mithral clad warrior stood in the hallway, a finely crafted hand crossbow in each hand.  The gnome reloaded and fired faster than the eye could follow and soon a small hail of lethal barbs filled the tunnel.

*****

Welby dodged a sweeping, hairy leg and cut at his opponent again.  The spider showed no signs of slowing from its wounds and pressed forward, attempting to seize the annoying pest it faced in its powerful jaws.  Suddenly a series of clicks sounded from behind the halfling and several small black bolts flew over his head and struck the beast in the abdomen.  Welby risked a glance over his shoulder and saw a short mithral clad man wearing a curious bulbous hat had appeared from somewhere and now fired a crossbow into the melee with each hand.

The glowing barbarian understood that he needed to escape this situation before drow reinforcements arrived and cartwheeled backwards away from the spider.  As he did so a hail of drow arrows arced out of the gloom and clattered on the stones where he’d just been standing.  Several of the arrows fell short and impaled the spider, which collapsed to the floor twitching.  Welby saw his chance and ran, gasping, “Follow me!” to his unexpected ally.  The gnome considered for a moment until an arrow flew past his head, then he shrugged and raced after the halfling.

Welby did not slow until he reached the entrance to the crypts and rushed out into the sunlight, yelling, “They know!  They wait and see Welby, now Welby glowing!”

Gnish had quite a different reaction.  He followed the halfling to the surface and entered directly into a nightmare.  Arrayed before the door was a host of dead warriors, sixteen or seventeen macabre monsters armored with shiny new breastplates and suits of chainmail and gripping scythes in their rotted fingers.  Behind them stood a gray haired, bespectacled gentleman in flowing black robes, a twisted, floating, half-naked goblin with a grossly deformed and abnormally large skull, a strange, dark-haired elf with glowing red eyes and large bat wings extending from his shoulders, and another figure so muffled and cloaked in dark robes that he couldn’t make out exactly what it was.

The gnome let out a muffled squeal of fright and tried to pull himself to a stop, but his legs went out from under him and he slid to a stop in front of a grinning skeleton.  He clawed and kicked at the ground and sent rocks and dust flying as he tried to furiously backpedal and make it back to the relative safety of the crypts.  He let out another cry as a firm hand fell upon his shoulder and looked up to see the halfling standing over him wearing a concerned expression.  “It’s OK, won’t hurt you.  They with Arty.”

*****

More soon to follow - I'm cutting this post short so Inez can get some sleep


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## Inez Hull (Jan 13, 2003)

Can't wait for more - first thing in the morning that is.


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## Broccli_Head (Jan 13, 2003)

Yay! Another post. 

I actually got CotSQ--received it as a gift for Christmas, actually--as a result of reading your story.  I have also created a campaign that will lead to CotSQ. It should be very fun.

Can't wait to see how Arty's squad of undead fares.


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## Sniktch (Jan 13, 2003)

*The assault on Szith Morcane, pt 2*

Gnish stared dubiously at the halfling, examined the collection of freaks again, and went back to looking worriedly at the halfling.  The scholarly looking gentleman walked closer and said, “Welby, you’re glowing!  How did they see you coming?  And who and what is your friend here?” He smiled down at Gnish as he finished speaking and despite himself, the gnome relaxed.  It didn’t appear he was going to be eaten or torn apart right away; he might as well stay and find out what was going on here.

“Stupid spiders, Arty.  He help me,” the halfling pointed at Gnish, “so I tell him follow.”

“A deep gnome, if I’m not mistaken.  Natural enemies of the drow,” spoke the winged elf as he hovered near.

“Another of the wretched slave races,” came a muffled feminine voice from the cloaked figure.

“Well, if he is an enemy of the drow we have much in common already,” Artimas replied, then spoke directly to the svirfneblin.  “We may seem strange, but we mean you no harm.  We have come to level this foul city of dark elves and slay the foul followers of Kiaransalee.  Would you care to join us?  An extra warrior would help our cause greatly.

“I am Artimas Sendant, a humble scholar and priest, and my companions are Bruskin, Welby, Higreld Pel, and Tierak.  What do you say, friend, will you join us?”

The gnome hesitated then extended a hand gingerly, “Gnish.  The dark elves killed my people – I am here for revenge.  I will come if many dark elves’ blood will be spilled.”

“How deep is your hatred of the drow?” the cloaked figure asked again.

Something in her voice troubled Gnish.  “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, because she is drow,” replied Artimas dismissively.  “Do not worry, her people were also slain by the drow currently living in Szith Morcane – she seeks their blood just as much as you, good Gnish.”

Gnish thought about it.  He really didn’t like the thought of working along side a dark elf, but he wasn’t sure he had much of a choice.  He couldn’t possibly defeat the powerful force deployed here, and he doubted they would let him leave now that he’d stumbled upon them.  He answered with a curt nod, “Strange times make for stranger bedfellows.  I will join you.”

The drow answered haughtily, “Oh, good.  Just remember to pay proper respect to your betters and I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”

The gnome stared venomously at the priestess and for a moment Artimas thought he might launch himself forward to attack.  Then the gnome’s eyes dropped and he retreated to the entrance of the crypts, taking up a silent guard and occasionally glancing over his shoulder at the rest of the party, his expression unreadable.

Higreld floated over as the conversation ended.  “Been scried we have.  Know our numbers and presence they do.”

The necromancer uttered a foul oath.  “Why do I bother to make plans.  Let’s get on with it – the sooner we get down there the sooner I can crush my enemies.”

Tierak gasped, “Surely you do not mean to walk into the teeth of their defenses?”  She waved a hand at the sky, “We have a little time – I assure you my people are not coming after us in _this_?”

“Bah, I weary of this game.  As soon as Welby stops glowing we head underground, and we’ll see how ready for us they really are.”

Bruskin nodded, “I have to agree with Artimas – they have no reason to come after us when they can stay safely nestled in their own den.  And I don’t see that we really have a way past the guards without alerting them.  I say we wait an hour or two to increase their tension and then attack.”

Higreld cocked his head as if listening and loosed a wheezing laugh.  “A good enough plan I say.  Favor us do the Old Ones; triumph we will.”

Not long after, Artimas and Tierak uttered commands and the column of undead warriors marched into the caves.  Welby sent his shadowy companion in the lead, staying mostly in the wall but keeping an eye out for any ambushes.  Next came the train of skeletons and zombies, followed by the halfling and the deep gnome, with the spellcasters bringing up the rear.  They advanced to the point where Welby had been attacked earlier before the first arrows whistled out of the darkness, striking the lead skeletons with little effect.

Welby listened to a silent voice in his head and yelled, “They flee!  They fire and run!”

“Charge, my soldiers.  Slay anything you meet!” At Artimas’ command the skeletons broke into a run and clanked down the tunnel in pursuit of the fleeing drow sentries.  Another pair of arrows struck the leading undead and one of them collapsed, but the column ignored the falling skeleton and trampled it into the stony floor.

Tierak informed the party, “I see them – a pair of archers, retreating and firing.”  She followed with a wave of her hand and a trio of glowing orbs appeared in the tunnel and zoomed down its length, illuminating the enemy.  The dark elves responded with another volley and continued their retreat, reaching the shaft that lead to the entrance of Szith Morcane.

“Get away you will not!” cried Higreld and he began to chant a bizarre string of arcane syllables.  As he finished the spell the two drow heard a tearing sound and an ogre stepped into view and bludgeoned one in the shoulder with its club.  Tierak added her own magical might to the attack and launched a glowing beam of dark energy that tore into one of the archers and left it stunned.

The other archer grasped its wounded shoulder and jumped down the chute to the city proper, but the other was unable to move and was swarmed by the undead minions of Tierak and Artimas and quickly hacked to pieces.  The ogre bellowed in rage as its prey escaped and followed the dark elf into the hole.  The sounds of furious combat soon issued from the aperture.

“Follow and slay all who oppose you!” commanded Artimas and the undead horde quickly poured down the hole after the ogre.  The sounds of combat intensified as the group gathered around the opening and prepared for combat.  Artimas examined the drow his undead had cut down and discovered it still breathed, although barely.  A maniacal grin stretched his pasty white cheeks as he grasped the dying elf and absorbed its soul, strengthening his power for the fight to come.

At this point there was nothing left but for them to follow.  One by one the companions dropped through the hole and the battle for Szith Morcane was joined.  

Next:  Chaos ensues...


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## Sniktch (Jan 13, 2003)

Thanks for the kind words, Inez and Broccli-Head 

I'll look forward to seeing your CotSQ SH eventually, BH.


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## Mathew_Freeman (Jan 13, 2003)

*applause*

More! More!


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## Sniktch (Jan 14, 2003)

*The Assault on Szith Morcane, pt. 3*

OK, now the big battle starts.  It gets pretty confusing to me - a lot was going on and it all happens in a short space of time.  I'd say all of the events in this update cover about 1 minute of game time...

*****

Gnish was the first companion to drop through the opening, eager to shed the blood of his enemies.  Before him the ogre was engaged with a strange skinless and bleeding dark elf that he recognized as one of the undead quth-maren, exchanging blow for blow.  The quth-maren was also surrounded by a group of Artimas’ undead that hacked at it mechanically with their scythes.  The rest of the undead had poured around the combat and marched across the chamber, where Gnish could see four dark elves taking cover and pouring arrows into them.  He raised his crossbows and sent a volley in their direction as he heard more of his companions enter the chamber behind him.

Artimas and Tierak were the next to enter, the Loathegrot floating down behind them.  Tierak motioned and her dancing lights sped across the cavern, illuminating the drow that lurked there to her companions.  In response, one of the drow raised his arms and fired a blast of lightning that tore through the combat before them and crackled around the heroes.  However, Artimas had warned his companions about the dark elves’ proclivity for lightning use and they had all been enchanted with protective spells before hand.  Six of the skeletons battling the quth-maren fell, but the companions suffered nary a scorch mark.

“Charge!” shouted Artimas unnecessarily and started making his way past the melee in front of him.  He cast a spell as he moved forward, firing a ray of blasphemous power that drained the vitality from one of the archers and further strengthened him.  Tierak responded to the lightning bolt by focusing her will upon the dark elf wizard, paralyzing his muscles and leaving him helpless.  Artimas noticed this and unleashed his last weapon.  “Mask, your time has come.  Slay any drow you see who do not bear Arawn’s mark.”  A whispering mirthless laugh was the only response.

The drow continued to fire and fall back before the marching undead.  One of them trained its attacks on the massive ogre, the biggest target it could see, and the beast was slain and faded from view with an unearthly roar.  

Back at the entrance to the chamber, Welby silently dropped into the room and began creeping unseen along the wall of the cavern, while Bruskin cloaked himself within a spell of invisibility and followed.  The sorcerer quickly took in the scene and then flew forward, throwing a greenish bead toward the drow across the room.  The bead struck the ground just behind them and exploded into a ball of powerful acid.  Unfortunately most of the drow resisted the attack but one was badly burned and fell back, disappearing from view over the side of the canyon.  Bruskin snorted in irritation and pulled forth a coin, enchanting it to shed the light of the sun before flipping it toward the enemy.  The drow screamed in pain as the light seared their sensitive eyes, and one of them quickly activated its innate powers of darkness to counter the spell.  Bruskin smiled and flew forward toward the chasm.

Freed from its ogre attacker the quth-maren made short work of the two remaining skeletons that battled it, smashing them down with powerful blows of its fists.  Seeing this, Gnish dropped his crossbows and drew a pair of kukri from his belt, charging forward to engage the undead.  With a word one of his weapons began to emit a keening wail, and when he slashed into the beast his magical blade ripped through its undead flesh like rotten fruit.  He accepted a glancing blow to his shoulder and went through a simple attack routine, dropping it.  The gnome did not pause to savor his quick kill but started to sprint across the chamber toward the remaining foes.

The two remaining drow that still had control of their limbs fired one last volley at the approaching undead and prepared to withdraw.  Unfortunately for them, they had lost time countering Bruskin’s daylight spell and the five remaining skeletons overtook them and surrounded them, forcing the drow to draw swords and defend themselves.  Artimas crowed in triumph as behind them a ghostly apparition manifested and stabbed the helpless wizard through the throat, slaying him instantly.  The Mask cackled and moved in behind the pair of embattled drow. 

Seeing that things were currently well under control, Higreld consumed a potion and faded from view.  A moment later Artimas, Tierak, and Gnish felt a telepathic intrusion in their minds.  The voice spoke to them, accompanied by disturbing images of unimaginable titans gliding across the floors of silent seas.  “Communicate this way we can at the speed of thought.  Artimas, one more ally you said we have.  Perhaps go get her should Higreld?”

“Yes, it seems a good time.”  Artimas concentrated on visualizing the crack where he’d spoken with the psychotic half-drow and transmitted the image to his odd companion.  The goblin responded that he understood and glided silently toward the rift.

Bruskin reached the edge before him and peered over the side.  The sorcerer gulped with sudden apprehension as he beheld a large group of drow racing to join the battle.  He turned his head to the side and felt a small twinge of panic as he saw that a massive, gargantuan spider crawled up the side of the chasm to join the fray.  “We have more coming!” he shouted, then flung another bead at a pair of flying dark elves.  It exploded between them and he heard their howls of pain and rage as the acid bath covered them, but he did not pause to watch the results.  Instead he flew to the great stony column in the center of the chamber and touched a wand to it, once more filling the room with bright daylight.

Artimas and Tierak calmly followed Gnish toward the combat between the pair of drow and the remaining undead.  The four zombies and the Mask had joined the melee, and by the time any of the party members had reached the fight the drow had been torn to pieces.

Suddenly the light of Bruskin’s spell was snuffed, and at the same time the air was filled with whistling crossbow bolts and crackling bolts of electricity.  Bruskin was struck by no less than three bolts and was sent spinning through the air.  Luckily his protective spells absorbed most of the damage, but the amulet around his neck was pulsing with energy and he knew it would soon crumble.  He turned to see the flying wizards hovering above the edge of the cliff, and he knew that the spider would only be moments behind them.

Across the chamber, Artimas felt several small bolts pierce his flesh and the burning itch of poison racing through his veins.  He spun around and saw that at least a dozen drow, a pair of quth-maren, and a female drider encased in an aura of fire had entered the chamber behind them.  “It’s a trap!” he yelled.  “They were waiting in the tunnels behind us, we’re surrounded…”  

The mage slumped to the ground as he spoke the words, and by the end of his warning he was fast asleep.  The rest of the companions found themselves surrounded by grinning dark elves as the jaws of the trap slammed shut.

Next: the battle continues...


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## Mathew_Freeman (Jan 14, 2003)

Woo! What a battle! Bring on the popcorn and organ music!


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## Broccli_Head (Jan 14, 2003)

Well done Sniktch!

I guess Welby gets to save the day again...or live to fight another day. 

One thing I was impressed about in the text of CotSQ was the outlined responses by the drow. I see that you used the suggestions to the fullest!


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## Sniktch (Jan 14, 2003)

*The Assault on Szith Morcane, pt. 4*

Yeah, that really impressed me too, Broccli-Head.  I have made full use of the responses so far and then some, and will continue to do so in the future.  

We're almost caught up after this post, not much more to go.  I hope everyone can follow it alright - it was the most confusing battle I've ever been a part of but I think I basically got everything straight - I just have to jump around a lot.  Probably captures the feel of the evening perfectly then. 

Unfortunately, Welby is probably in the worst shape right now, but hopefully the little guy will pull through...

*****

The companions’ reaction was swift.  Tierak whirled about and stretched her hand toward one of the flying wizards and deep within his ribcage his heart ceased beating.  The mage dropped from the air without a sound.  Higreld had not left the area and paused to summon another ogre in front of the rear group of attackers, then continued flying toward the crevice Artimas had envisioned.  Bruskin attempted to renew his daylight spell on the column but felt a stabbing pain that broke his concentration.  The amulet around his neck throbbed one last time and then crumbled into dust, and the fey’ri turned to find a dark elf attacking him with a length of whirling, spiked chain.

At Tierak’s command the remaining undead turned and charged across the floor toward the attackers at her rear, while the Mask faded from view and began to study the drider intently.  Gnish charged in to engage the drow attacking Bruskin as the sorcerer flew back and out of reach.  Unfortunately the gnome rushed his attacks and they failed to strike.  The dark elf was more careful and cut a long gash across the svirfneblin’s forearm.

A huge form appeared over the side of the canyon as the massive spider scuttled into view.  A howling battlecry was heard above the din of combat as Welby, forgotten in the chaos, drew his sword and attacked the mammoth spider in a fit of rage.  The spider hissed in outrage and snapped its powerful jaws at its unseen opponent, but the halfling had already dodged out of the way.

Unfortunately for Welby, a large group of dark elves had followed the spider into the fray, and he, Bruskin, and Gnish suddenly found himself outlined in flickering green flames.  Bruskin ignored this latest group, and even ignored the flying wizard despite being struck by another bolt of electricity, throwing an acid bath at the rear contingent of dark elves.  Several drow resisted the attack, but nine of the archers succumbed to the magical assault and were dissolved into puddles of goo on the cavern floor.  

Unbeknownst to him, his attack had also injured Ssuz-tam MarSinn, a powerful and invisible dark elf wizard among the attackers.  In retaliation, Ssuz-tam released some of his most powerful magics.  First Bruskin felt an icy hand grip his throat and a portion of his life energy siphoned away.  A moment later a hideous apparition, the product of his deepest fears, appeared before him and laid a single caressing finger upon his cheek.  Shuddering in terror, the sorcerer recognized the illusion at the last moment and it faded from view.  He threw another acid bath but only succeeded in slaying the last archer, then hastily quaffed a healing potion and flew out over the chasm and out of the view of the rear attackers.

Meanwhile the undead horde and the summoned ogre had crashed into the advancing quth-maren and a brutal fight had erupted.  Three of the skeletons and a zombie had been destroyed in the fight thus far, but one of the undead drow had gone down under the ogre’s powerful blows and the weight of numbers.  Tierak had also focused her considerable magic upon the drider and second wizard who stood in the area, but had been unable to effect them with anything.  In response she had been struck by a storm of howling ice and a raging column of fire, and she fell back to recover and heal her wounds.

The drider pulled a dagger that dripped caustic fluid and plunged into melee with the ogre, trusting her magical defenses to deflect the beast’s blows.  She slashed into it and cut the tendons in its left arm, but the ogre was not of the natural realm and its return blow struck the drider unerringly and broke several ribs.  Gasping, she stabbed at it again and again and the beast finally howled and faded from sight.  At the same time Ssuz-Tam cast a spell that froze the three remaining zombies in place and the quth-maren finished destroying its skeletal attackers.  Unimpeded now, the drow began to advance to finish the rest of their foes.

The battle still raged fiercely across the cavern.  Gnish danced with his opponent in a deadly ballet, the gnome growing increasingly frustrated.  While his opponent seemed unable to miss and his body was scored with painful gouges, he had only landed two blows in return and began to worry about the outcome of the battle.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see three drow with rapiers closing in on him, and he grimaced and fought on harder.

Tierak, her wounds healed, took stock of the dark elves approaching the battle from the canyon.  Four archers had stopped at the edge and were pouring arrows into the room – the svirfneblin, fey’ri, and halfling all sported at least a couple of arrows sticking from their bodies.  Three warriors with rapiers and bucklers were racing to aid the chain master that battled Gnish, while three carrying wickedly spiked glaives were approaching the frenzied halfling from behind.  Behind them was a white haired female with a double sword that she recognized as an officer.  She looked back across the cavern and saw the drider and wizard advancing across the room, and she knew that another wizard hovered nearby unseen.  She sighed and focused her power where she thought it would do the most good, calling out for Arawn to aid her, and the dark elf officer froze in her tracks, held in place by the power of the god.

Welby cursed as the faerie fire surrounded him again and summoned his shadow to his aid.  It flew up out of the floor behind the spider and tore into the beast with its icy claws, distracting it long enough for the halfling to land a few more blows on its gigantic head.  A venomous hiss escaped the monstrosity and it tore into the halfling’s shoulder.  Welby felt his limbs start to go leaden but battled bravely on, inflicting yet more punishment on the creature.  He felt the pain as another bite ripped into his flesh and his vision began to go dim.  The barbarian focused all his will upon slaying the creature and threw himself back into combat.

Meanwhile, Higreld spotted the crack and floated into it, finding the small chamber that Artimas had pictured in his thoughts.  He called into the chamber, “Artimas greetings sends.  Rages now does the battle.”  Hoping that would be enough he floated back out of the crevice.  In the distance he could still see one of the flying wizards, throwing bolt after bolt of electricity into the fight.  Higreld frowned, “Enough from you,” and focused his will on the wizard while chanting one of his most lethal spells.  A moment later the wizard suddenly dropped from the air and fell toward the river below, his heart stopped.

The four archers noticed the floating goblin suddenly materialize and trained their bows upon him.  Four arrows sunk into the twisted wizard and a low moan escaped his lips.  He quickly downed two potions – the first greatly speeding his movements and the second healing some of the damage inflicted by the arrows.  The drow launched another volley but the now hasted goblin managed to dodge all but one.

“Ah, such delicious, excruciating pleasure,” sighed Higreld.  “The favor I will return to you.”  He focused his attention on the rock below his enemies’ feet and a multitude of writhing black tentacles rose out of the ground and began grasping at the archers.  Three of them were grasped firmly in the crushing grip of several tentacles, but the last archer escaped and began to retreat down the webway.

At that moment the frozen drow officer’s head was suddenly cleaved from its shoulders and the twitching body collapsed, spraying blood into the air.  A dark, shadowy form moved from the corpse toward the embattled gnome and cut into the chain wielder with a gleaming scimitar, lopping off his arm and sending him sinking to the floor.  “Blood for the Spider Queen!” came Larala Dumian’s triumphant cry as she made her presence felt.

Tierak and Bruskin had once more focused their attentions on the ambush party approaching from behind.  Tierak prayed to Arawn to disrupt the protective spells of her opponents and a burst of anti-magic stripped the drider’s fiery shield and caused the invisible wizard to come into view.  Bruskin smiled when he saw the mage appear and tried to blast him with a stream of acid, but Ssuz-tam easily resisted the spell.

The drider uttered a foul oath and began weaving a spell when suddenly a ghostly form materialized behind her and skewered her abdomen with a razor sharp blade.  She whirled about and struck the Mask with her dagger, but the ethereal killer laughed and skewered her again, then sank into the floor and out of sight.

Ssuz-tam also cursed as Tierak’s spells stripped his defenses and left him vulnerable and visible.  He also began to wave his arms and chant furiously.  ‘Time to regroup,’ he thought as he completed the spell and teleported away in a puff of brimstone.

Meanwhile, the glaive armed dark elves had ringed Welby in and launched a fierce attack at the beleaguered halfling.  Several of their blows struck home and distracted the barbarian from his primary opponent.  The monstrous spider took advantage of the lapse and bit into the halfling once more, and Welby felt his muscles give out as he sank to the floor and lost consciousness.

Bruskin and Higreld came to the small warrior’s aid.  Higreld opened a rift in space once more and this time two ogres stepped out, one on either side of the halfling, and charged into the dark elves.  The elves broke from the sudden attack and fled back to the walkway, but one of the ogres landed a heavy hit and crushed one of their skulls before they could get away.  The giants bellowed in anger to see their opponents escaping and gave chase.

At the same time Bruskin stretched forth his hand and four black orbs streaked forth and blasted holes in the spider’s thick carapace.  Relief and elation coursed through his mind as this final blow proved enough and the spider dropped to the ground twitching, and he threw four more orbs at the fleeing archer, slaying him.  Looking around he saw that the battle was dying down, so he flew to the halfling’s side to discover if his companion still breathed.

The other group of drow was thrown into confusion by Larala’s sudden attack and they also tumbled away and tried to flee, but not before Gnish brought one down with a swipe of his screaming kukri.

On the other side of the room Artimas still lay sleeping as the drider and surviving wizard drew near.  His immune system finally managed to throw off the effects of the poison and he woke to find the bloated drider nearly on top of him.  Stifling a yawn, he reached forth his hand and channeled the pure power of Arawn into the drider.  The unfortunate monster aged several millennia in its next breath and fell to the ground as no more than dust and bones.  The wizard turned to flee but Tierak overtook him and grasped him in her arms, employing the same attack her teacher had just used upon the drider.  A dry croak escaped the wizard’s throat and then he also fell to the floor in a shower of dirt and bones.

That left the remaining quth-maren as the only survivor of the ambush party.  The necromancer laughed and focused his will upon the monster, dominating the undead creature and bringing it under his control.  “New toy,” he gloated, “I’ve always wanted one of these.”

Artimas looked about and saw that all the remaining drow had been put to flight, Higreld’s ogres encouraging them to run as fast as possible.  His face darkened and anger seized him as he glimpsed the still form of the halfling, and he unleashed one last spell at the fleeing drow.  The rearmost warrior’s legs suddenly withered away beneath him and he fell from the web screaming, plunging towards the raging river six hundred feet below.

“After them!” Artimas yelled, and the battle for Szith Morcane continued…

Next: A brief respite and the watchers…


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## DustTC (Jan 14, 2003)

Great thread, you tell a really nice story. It helps that I'm DM'ing CotSQ myself I suppose, you give me plenty of inspiration .

IMC, the group cleaned every last bit of the upper level without too much trouble and then went down and took out the guards at the waiting post and the web team to boot (Big Sky (MotW spell) was really nasty on the web team sentries), before having to retreat to heal and rest.

I was so impressed by this that I decided to up the heat a bit and have them ambushed (as suggested in the adventure) by the hunter-killer team. It had been a while since they had any adventure where they had the opportunity to rest, so they went about it rather stupidly and retreated to the cavern where the Lolthites had been hiding (without as much as casting a Pass Without Trace).

I did let them rest up (else it would have been a TPK for sure) and attacked them in an ambush in the bebilith cave. Party was a Psychic Warrior, a Druid, a Paladin (Monte's NG variant, I let him change before the session because he never was much good at being LG) and a Cleric.

Two Phantasmal Killers later the Cleric is dead, the Paladin is dead (NG Paladins don't have aura of courage, doh) and the Psychic Warrior is dominated by Sustzam Mar-Shinn (think that's the name). He's got a nasty DC  (I won't give away why). I then fumbled a Dispel DC so the Druid could set the Psychic Warrior free (heroic fights with multiple dead are fine by me, TPKs aren't) and after that they got into one of those great hanging-on-by-a-thread fights with some great tactical choices by the Druid (Transmute Rock to Mud to take the improved invis, flying, hasted Sustzam out of it for a while was the best), a massive contribution by the Druid's awakened panther companion and the PsyWar expending all his daily PPs in just a couple of rounds .

Anyway, I'm getting a little too enthusiastic, but I'm really enjoying your story... I just wish my players were as good roleplayers (or maybe you just make them sound like they are), though the Druid in my group isn't half bad.


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## MTR (Jan 14, 2003)

*Wooph*

Now *that's* a battle.  Since I ran Szith Morcane I know what you were trying to control, Sniktch, and it must have been quite a job.  It would seem your party packed a lot more firepower than mine - of course your guys had a bunch of allies.


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## Donalbain (Jan 15, 2003)

*yeah!*

Wow! What a battle. More!


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## Mathew_Freeman (Jan 15, 2003)

many congratulations Sniktch...this is a great SH! You've done an amazing job on keeping everything together!

And kudos to your players for coming up with such an interesting selection of characters!


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## Broccli_Head (Jan 15, 2003)

I cast my vote for Aritimas as Undead Overlord!

even though he's not so good. I like his style.


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## Sniktch (Jan 19, 2003)

Thanks everyone for the praise!   I should have the intermission in the battle posted soon, followed by a look at what the dark elves are up to during the battle 

I've updated both of my Rogue's Galleries, and should have more frequent posts to the DM-only thread as I apply _Plot&Poison_ to the remaining NPC's.  I still do not have an e-mail from Jack, so Gnish hasn't been posted yet


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## jonjon1112 (Jan 23, 2003)

i really like what you have done with the group and the campaign. I like the charaters that have came in to the party and it has be one of the best stories i have read


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## Jinx (Jan 26, 2003)

Meet the newest victim of CotSQ and mushroom enthusiast, Zooky Funginackle.


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## Donalbain (Jan 27, 2003)

*new session?*

Can't wait!


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## Sniktch (Jan 27, 2003)

*The Battle for Szith Morcane, pt. 5*

Yes, we played this Saturday, although we still haven't finished the hostile take over of the drow outpost yet.  I have only a short update for right now - unfortunately work has picked up and I'm finding fewer moments to write.  This should set the stage for the rest of the evening nicely, though, so look forward to frequent updates the rest of the week until I'm caught up again...

*****

“Unwise seems haste at this time.  On the run we have them, so regroup we should while deal with my ogres they must.”  The hovering goblin moved to the edge of the chasm to watch the fate of his summoned monsters.

The other companions agreed with Higreld.  Gnish approached Artimas and asked if he could heal some of his injuries, while Tierak prayed to Arawn and used her divine powers to drain five of the dark elven dead for life energy and raise eight others as newly animated skeletons to serve their cause.  Welby, extremely weak, pulled some empty potion vials from his pack and started trying to milk the venom from the massive spider corpse before him.  Bruskin chanted a quick detection spell and then directed the others to remove the most easily carried magical effects on the drow, such as rings and potions.

The fleeing drow quickly realized that the ogres would overtake them before they reached the safety of one of the caves.  The two glaive wielders spun about and set to receive a charge while the remaining swordsman continued to flee.  The ogres did not slow for an instant, and ignoring the stabs of pain from the dark elves’ desperate blows they crashed right through, knocking the elves from the web to fall to the river below.  

As the last dark elf disappeared into the cave entrance he was replaced by a handful of archers that began to pepper the charging beasts with a hail of arrows.  The lumbering brutes roared in anger and charged the entrance, but one of them was cut down before it closed the gap.  The other leveled a tremendous blow against one of the elves, catching it with a horizontal swipe of its club and sending brains splattering about the area, but then several sharp glaive points emerged from the darkness behind the archers and transfixed the beast on their points, ending its life.

Higreld could not see the demise of his last pet, but he felt the energies tying the creature to the material plane disrupted and turned to the others.  “Dead is the last ogre and approach now many more of the drow.  Flee or press on now we must.”

Artimas gestured curtly, indicating that he did not wish to retreat, and Tierak ordered the fresh column of undead into motion.  The column filed onto the webway followed closely by the all of the companions save Welby, who was simply too weak to continue and remained hidden in the shadows, and the battle erupted once again.

*****

Far below the companions Zedarr T’Sarran hissed in frustration.  He cut an impressive figure with his topknot of flowing white hair, intricately engraved mithral breastplate, and pair of razor sharp doubled short swords clenched in his fists.  Behind him a large black hunting cat with six legs and a pair of wickedly barbed tentacles protruding from its shoulder blades paced in the shadows, sensing its master’s displeasure.  Zedarr remained motionless, his eyes burning holes in his sister’s back where he wished he could sheathe his blades.

“What now?  I should be out destroying the interlopers, not hiding in this room while they run rampant through our city!”

Dorina turned from the scrying pool and favored her brother with a bloodless smile.  “No, you insipid twit.  We have plenty of soldiers left and even now the surface dwellers move into the jaws of our trap.  Let them expend their resources a while longer, my brother, and then I will dispatch you to deliver the finishing blow.

“In the meantime, gather the others.  We will prepare to strike together when the time is right."

The vampiress turned back to study the images playing out in the pool of water before her as the weapon-master ran down the hall to gather the other dark elf leaders.

*****

Zooky Funginackle knew something was afoot.  She had been trapped in the drow city for almost three days and was beginning to lose hope of ever finding a way to break free; it seemed that at any given part of the day there were at least a dozen dark elf warriors with a clear view of her hiding place.  Now something seemed to be distracting them from the vast chasm and web connecting the different layers of the city, and the two dozen warriors in this area grabbed weapons and rushed toward the entrance to the web, leaving one lone slave overseer standing watch in this section of cavern.

They piled out onto the web with hand crossbows held ready and an instant later the area erupted into broiling flames.  When the smoke cleared she could not see a single elf still standing.

Zooky didn’t hesitate.  The svirfneblin concentrated for a moment and shifted back to her true form, discarding her mushroom disguise, and took off at a run in the direction of the incinerated drow troop.  She angled up the wall as she went until she zipped along upside down across the ceiling.  Behind her she could hear the overseer yelling for her to halt, but she ignored him and raced on, moving onto the side of the cliff face and pausing for a moment to take in the scene.  Above her a fierce battle was fought, fire and lightning leaping back and forth between several flying wizards and a small group of bold or stupid heroes invading the city.  

Zooky scanned the drows’ opponents and her eyes grew wide.  No!  It couldn’t be – all of her people were dead.  But there he was, spinning a deadly kukri in each hand as he prepared to face the charge of a spider riding drow officer.  Somehow another had survived the destruction of her village and had found allies to help destroy the wicked dark elves responsible.

Her heart filling with joy, she shouted, “Gnish!” and started sprinting up the canyon wall as fast as her short legs would carry her.


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## Donalbain (Jan 28, 2003)

*checking party members*

1. Welby Hilltopple - Male Halfling Barbarian 4/ Rogue 3/ Shadowdancer 4
2. Artimas Sendant - Male Human Wizard (Necromancer) 5/ Priest of Arawn 2/ Master of Shrouds 3/ True Necromancer 1
3. Bruskin - Male Fey'ri Sorcerer 8
4. Higreld Pel, Loathegrot of Skull-Skewer Male Goblin Diviner5/ Alienist5
5. Zooky Funginackle - Female Svirfneblin Ranger 8
6. Gnish - ? Svirfneblin ?

+ NPC
Tierak Morcane Female Drow Priestess of Arawn 8

Am I Right?

Oh and where do I find the alienist? TaB?


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## darkbard (Jan 28, 2003)

*Re: checking party members*



			
				Donalbain said:
			
		

> *Oh and where do I find the alienist? TaB? *




you betcha.


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## Sniktch (Jan 28, 2003)

You're right, Donalbain, except that Higreld is now 5 wiz(div)/6 alienist and Bruskin is now level 9.  Gnish is a svirfneblin fighter 8, and I'll keep harping on Jack to get me a character sheet.  The alienist is from TaB, and 2 NPC's you missed that are currently part of the lineup: Larala Dumian (1/2 drow Rogue 7/Fang of Lolth 6) and the Mask (ghost tiefling Rog5/Assassin4).


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## JacktheRabbit (Jan 28, 2003)

I am lost now over this assault on the drow. 

Who are the good guys and who are the bad guys? 

Also this may not be that big a deal but what is the parties real motivation here? Some of them are here for purely revenge reasons but what is the interest for our Necromancer cleric? Is he motivated by revenge or is this just a chance for him to play with his new undead toys?


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## Sniktch (Jan 28, 2003)

I think I'm a little lost, too, Doc.  I think just about everybody involved is a bad guy now.  

I think originally Artimas came along with the rest of the group, as you said, just to play with his toys.  But he seems to have developed a very real hatred of them - seems he feels humiliated by being forced to hide when the last party was defeated.  I also think he feels emnity on some level because the goddess the drow follow basically controls the same domains as Arawn, and he dislikes competition.

I've heard him talking about destroying the Morrigan's temple in Brian's Stone when they finish with the drow for similar reasons...

Honestly, I've heard some grumbling about it from my players - this frontal assault in particular seems to just be dragging on and on...

However, pretty soon they're going to get one heck of a motivator to continue - they may not realize it, but its too late for them to back out now...


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## JacktheRabbit (Jan 29, 2003)

What alignment is our dear Welby now?

It would appear that our Cleric of the Dead is not completely evil. He has a soft spot for the Halfling and was quite angry we he discovered that the Halfling was down and possibly dead.


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## Sniktch (Jan 29, 2003)

Welby and I had a chat and agreed that he's now Neutral.  I have a hard time with Artimas' alignment.  I currently have him at NE, but he's not completely evil, as the relationship he has with Welby reveals.  He's kind of like the big bad necromancer with a soft heart and I can never predict how he'll react to something.  He shocked me in the last session (which hopefully I'll have done before too much longer).

The main reason for this post is to let people know that the gnomish fighter Gnish Gningle has finally been added to my Rogue's Gallery...


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## Sniktch (Feb 1, 2003)

*The battle for Szith Morcane, pt. 6*

The column of undead marched out onto the webway with the companions following not far behind.  They could see quite a bit of drow activity below them; several archers emerged from the barracks and started peppering the undead soldiers with arrows, while at least three flying drow wizards could be seen hovering in various locations.  Far below them a large troop of warriors had appeared on the web with crossbows in hand, looking for the enemy that had invaded their home.

The flash and crackle of magic began to resound through the cavern.  The drow wizards began casting and the group was buffeted by leaping bolts of electricity and icy hail and wind.  One bolt tore through the skeletal troops and remaining zombies and wiped them out entirely, but otherwise the companions were protected by their spells and received little damage.  Meanwhile Bruskin aimed a wand at the large group of drow below them and a ball of fire erupted in their midst.  The screams of dying drow rent the air, and when the smoke cleared not a single dark elf remained standing.

Artimas pointed towards the second closest cave, which Tierak informed him led to the Wizard College of Szith Morcane.  Two dark elf wizards hovered near the opening and a third was just exiting, but it appeared to be the most lightly defended of the caves near them.  “This way, everyone!” he yelled.  “We need to get off this web and into tighter confines!”  he followed by trying to paralyze one of the wizards with a wave of a wand, but the dark elf resisted the effects and prepared his next spell.

Higreld and the other flying companions found themselves the targets of the drow archers taking cover in the entrance to the barracks.  He also pulled a wand from his belt and activated it, and two hulking ogres stepped out in the midst of the archers, diverting their attentions.

Tierak meanwhile focused her attention on the third drow wizard, the one who had just destroyed her freshly raised skeletons, and the elf succumbed to the attack, his body growing rigid as he plummeted from the air.  Larala uttered a curse in the drow tongue and flew ahead of Artimas, reaching one of the wizards just as he was ready to unleash a spell, and cut into him with her scimitar.  The mage cried out in pain and anger and targeted Larala with his spell, but she easily dodged the lightning bolt and pressed her attack.

Gnish fired off a rapid succession of bolts at the remaining two flying wizards until both of his repeating hand crossbows were empty.  One of the dark elves was riddled with bolts and fell, but another emerged from the cave to take his place.  Gnish sighed, hung the bows back on his belt, and pulled his kukris with one smooth motion, then was startled by a cry of “Gnish!” echoing up from below.  He leaned over and stared into the chasm and his jaw dropped.  Zooky was somehow alive and running towards the battle!  His heart brimming with joy at finding another of his people alive, he started to call out to her, but her eyes went wide and she began to scream at him to watch his back.  As he whirled around she raced to reach the battle as quickly as possible.

Above the canyon, hanging from the ceiling of the immense cavern, Saeshan Drey and her outriders had carefully held their wraith spider mounts in check until the last of the invaders had stepped onto the webway.  Then with a subtle motion of her hand and body she conveyed the order to attack.  Regal looking in their black and white tabards and mithral helms, the dark elf knights lowered their lances and charged as one down the side of the canyon.  They crashed into the foe with calculated skill and savagery before reigning in their mounts and withdrawing for a second charge.  Saeshan smiled behind her visor, the blood of her enemies running off the tip of her lance.  The surface dwellers would be crushed in no time.

The charge of the mounted drow took the companions by surprise and inflicted severe punishment upon them.  Artimas’ quth-maren, in the rear of the party, was struck twice and nearly torn in half, while Higreld was struck a nasty blow to the leg that ruined his concentration on his latest summoning attempt.  Gnish was also struck a glancing blow but the gnome seem unfazed and chased after his attacker with his curved knives flashing.

Artimas quickly assessed the situation and ordered the quth-maren to join Gnish in his attack.  At the same time he focused his will upon opening a rift to the negative energy plane and called forth a pair of shadows, ordering the shadow of the roper to join them in assaulting the knights.  These actions were not lost upon Saeshan, who chose the target of her next attack and ordered a second charge.

Her underlings were blocked by the gnome and the necromancer’s undead but Saeshan rode untouched through the ranks of her enemies and aimed her lance at the weakling human’s heart as he prepared to cast a spell to save himself.  He jerked aside at the last instant, but her lance still pierced him through the chest and splintered in his ribcage.

Artimas staggered away from her with blood pouring from his mouth and nearly collapsed.  He looked up in time to see his quth-maren get torn apart by the other drow, but his shadows succeeded in dragging one from the saddle and draining his life.  Focusing all of his remaining strength, the mage brought the riderless wraith spider under his control and ordered it and the shadows to him.  As the spectral figures descended upon the drow officer, forcing her to retreat, Artimas pulled himself atop the riderless spider and willed it to run in the direction of the cave that had become their immediate goal.

Meanwhile the battle still raged across the rest of the canyon.  In front of the barracks, the drow archers had fallen back in response to the ogres that had suddenly appeared in their midst, being replaced by warriors wielding long, thin, whip-like swords and more warriors behind them wielding glaives.  Higrled watched in consternation as they effeiciently sliced his ogres to pieces, suffering only minor bruises in return.  He tried to call more creatures into the fray but was distracted by a shooting pain from his lower body as the outrider’s lance caught him unawares.

The goblin floated further out over the canyon, his entire body pulsating with unimaginable pleasure from the nasty wound on his leg.  Reigning in his passions, the Loathegrot activated his wand and summoned a dire ape to help battle the knights and another pair of ogres to occupy the drow across the webway.

Saeshan cursed bitterly as she withdrew from the swirling melee.  The spirits she faced robbed her strength with every touch and she doubted she could survive their continued attentions.  She issued the order to retreat but the remaining outriders were surrounded; the gnome warrior had been joined by a female armed with a battlepick that wept acid and a spiked buckler and a dire ape which had appeared behind them and cut off their retreat.  She choked back a lump in her throat and hurled venomous barbs at her foes as she watched one of her soldiers dragged from the saddle by the ferocious ape and torn limb from limb, then turned and charged off to help her brethren finish the latest group of ogres that appeared in front of them.

Tierak had fled before the knights’ charge and had almost reached the entrance to the Wizard College.  Larala still distracted one of the wizards, the two combatants playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse as they circled one another, Larala unable to dodge her enemies’ stream of stinging arcane bolts long enough to strike the finishing blow.  The other remaining wizard focused his attentions on the running priestess but proved ineffective at penetrating her innate resistance to spells.  Finally he broke down her resistance and blasted her with electricity just before she entered the cave, knocking her flying through the opening, her hair and limbs dancing crazily.  Artimas entered just behind her on his huge arachnoid mount.

Larala finally succeeded in cutting down the wizard she faced at the same time that the two deep gnomes finished dispatching the last dark elf rider and mount, and all of the companions broke and ran for the cave entrance.  Higreld directed his ape to charge the remaining forces at the barracks to help cover their withdrawal, while Bruskin blasted the last wizard from the air with a stream of acid as he flew past.

The drow finished dispatching the dire ape, Saeshan running it through after it had torn apart two soldiers, just as the last party member disappeared into the entrance to the Wizard College.  An unnatural hush fell over the chasm as the sounds of fighting temporarily faded.

Next:  The archmage of Szith Morcane and an offer that can’t be refused...


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## Ashy (Feb 1, 2003)

One word:

Wow...


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## Broccli_Head (Feb 1, 2003)

Just tough enough to lure them into the web....
Mwahahahahaha!


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## Jameumz (Feb 4, 2003)

I'm a bit late, but thought I'd interject anyway.

Higreld's largely motivated by the lure of magical knowledge he stands to glean once the drow are rousted. One dirty, sunken eye is already glittering at the thought of what lies in the wizards' academy. Annihilating a small portion of goblin-slavers is just sauce for the goose, particularly since it leaves a nice, big inhabitable hole in its wake.


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## Stumpwater Jack (Feb 7, 2003)

*Like ummmm bump and stuff*

Yeah like bump and stuff...... Wheres the next post you know that whole big battle and all ?   And you better be ready for tonight 8)


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## Donalbain (Feb 13, 2003)

*the offer that can't be refused....*

I'd like to hear about it....


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## Donalbain (Feb 17, 2003)

*bump*

update pls?


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## Stumpwater Jack (Feb 18, 2003)

*bumb*

Yeah you might be able to get him to post if you can get him out of the hivemind 8)


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## Sniktch (Feb 18, 2003)

More like if you could get me to stop taking on other projects   I've hit a bit of a lull due to a combination of things, but please bear with me and I'll get back on track before much longer.


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## Dungannon (Feb 22, 2003)

Sniktch said:
			
		

> *More like if you could get me to stop taking on other projects   I've hit a bit of a lull due to a combination of things, but please bear with me and I'll get back on track before much longer. *



I'll have a word with Jeff about revoking your Internet access at work for a week or so, would that help?


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## Sniktch (Feb 26, 2003)

*The Archmage of Szith Morcane (or, an offer that can't be refused)*

So sorry about the delay; I hope I haven't lost you all  I've been in a bit of a slump with my writing these past two months but the cobwebs are starting to clear from my mind at last.  Our next session is this Saturday and I will definitely try to have the SH caught up before we play again - should only take one or two more updates to describe the furious battle that follows this post:

*****

Artimas rode the wraith spider into the cave just after Tierak had disappeared into it and skidded to a halt.  Before him Tierak stood with her hands slightly raised, a semi-circle of drow wizards in purple robes were arrayed in a small chamber, wands gripped tightly and pointed towards the heroes as they entered the room.  Behind them stood a cruelly handsome drow with cropped, upswept hair and opulent black and silk robes, wearing a small fortune in precious jewelry.  He regarded the necromancer with a sneer and stated, even as the companions continued to pile into the room, “Excellent!  You have done well to make it this far, but now this little farce comes to an end, I’m afraid.  I am Solom Ned’razak, Archmage of Szith Morcane, and you stand no chance against me.  However, I do not yet desire your deaths; indeed, I believe I can find use for your skills, so do me the courtesy of laying down your puny weapons that we may speak.”

Artimas curled his lip and send his thoughts streaming to Higreld’s mind across the telepathic bond they still shared, “More damn drow – come in fighting.”

Gnish, standing just behind the mage, heard the communication and silently yelled, “Nooo!  Artimas seeks to get us killed.  Let us hear the dark elf’s proposal before we make any rash moves.”

“I hate to agree, but the gnome is right,” Tierak interjected.  “Solom does not idly boast when he calls himself the Archmage of Szith Morcane – he has been head of the Wizard College for at least two centuries.”

Artimas was enraged.  He had had his fill of dark elves and would at this point happily slay every last man, woman, and child in the entire city if given the opportunity.  “I don’t care what he has to say,” he mentally snapped.  “I have seen enough drow to last a life time and I am not working for or with the filthy cretins.  All before us are spellcasters – should you enter and summon your ogres in their midst we shall have them.”

“Wisdom speaks the gnome and priestess, Artimas,” came the reply as the Loathegrot floated calmly into the cave.  “By fighting have we nothing to gain at this time except swift destruction.  At least hear the proposal let us.  Obligated to accept it we are not.”

The necromancer’s face paled with rage and his hands shot up, tracing patterns in the air as a stream of guttural sound burst from his lips.  He completed the spell and a ray of pure negative energy shot from his extended hands towards the archmage…

And passed right through him!  Solom saw Artimas’ look of anger fade to bewilderment and tilted his head back, roaring with laughter.  “Idiot!” he spat.  “Did you think I would sully myself by exposing my person to your presence?  You are not worthy to breathe the same air as me!

“Nevertheless, I will forgive this one transgression, for you may still be worthy to complete the task I present you with.  Do not think to attack my apprentices or myself again or I will make you wish that I had killed you.  Will you hear me out?”

He waited for several moments, his chest puffed up and an obvious look of satisfaction on his face.  The entire party had assembled within the cave now, but all of them waited silently for the archmage to continue, hardly even daring to move.

“Good; I’m glad to see that you can all be made to see reason.  My proposal is simple.  You seek to eliminate the followers of the Pale Lady and I seek to rule Szith Morcane the way that it should be ruled.  Too long have we of the Wizard College labored beneath the insipid female priestesses of Lolth and the other gods.  I seek to set up a magocracy, with myself at the head of course, and your arrival and the silence of Lolth have presented me with the perfect opportunity to realize my ambition.

“You have greatly weakened the forces of your enemy, and my enemy, but yet you are no closer to achieving your objective.  I am sure that you are all great warriors, but if you continue this battle of attrition my people will bleed you dry.  Whenever presented with such a large foe, you must cut off the head of the beast to kill it.  In this case, that head is Dorinna T’sarran, the bitch of Kiaransalee.  I will help you slay her if you will then leave Szith Morcane and trouble us no more.

“I will grant you several minutes to discuss this, but decide quickly or my patience will wear thin."

The group huddled together and a heated debate began.  Artimas, on the one side, did not wish to make any sort of deals or bargains with the drow and was still in favor of attacking.  “I do not like or trust this situation,” he argued.  “We should treat all of these people as our enemies and attack immediately.”

Everyone else was in favor of accepting the offer, considering their current desperate condition, but they felt that it was vital that Artimas be fully on board before agreeing to work for Solom.  It was Gnish who finally convinced him.  “You know, accepting the offer he gives us now does not rule out betraying him once the task be complete.”

Artimas face lit up at the suggestion and at last he caved in.  “Very well,” he said, turning back to Solom.  “We will do this task for you if you will help us as you’ve suggested.”

The archmage nodded and a moment later the sounds of spellcasting filled the small room.  A wave of white light washed over the companions, healing many of their wounds.  Next, one of the apprentices approached Gnish and sprinkled a handful of glittering dust over his head.  The powder collected on the gnome and bonded with his skin, giving it the strength of diamond.  A second apprentice cast a spell and touched Zooky and she faded from sight, gifted with invisibility, while a third enhanced Higreld with magical celerity for the coming struggle.  Last, Solom ordered the group to gather in the center of the chamber and began casting again.  As he completed this final spell there was a flash of light and then the companions had disappeared, leaving only the drow in the chamber.

Solom turned to his apprentices with a wide smirk and together they burst into raucous laughter.

*****

“What is happening, sister?  Is it time for us to launch our assault?” Zedarr had returned to the scrying room with the other drow leaders as he had been commanded.  Now the pair of drow leaders had been joined by a pair of vampire nobles, a pair of drider vampires, and Velasta T’Sarran, cousin to Velina, the drow priestess that had been destroyed in the initial clash between the forces.

Dorinna hissed in frustration and looked up from the pool.  “It is probably too late for us to join in the attack now.  They have entered the Inverted Tower and I do not expect them to last very long against Solom and his minions.  Unfortunately, the whole blasted tower is warded against scrying and I can no longer see what is happening.

“I do know that the invaders were badly hurt and even if they do somehow manage to overcome Solom and the other mages, our remaining forces will be more than enough to defeat these fools, especially once we join in.  But truly I expect that Solom has already added their statues to his glass menagerie.”

Zedarr scowled and twirled his shining blades in his hands.  “I must say that I hope you are mistaken, _dear sister_.  My blades thirst for blood and you have held me back throughout this engagement, keeping me from the fun.  You know as well as I that if I had been allowed to pursue the intruders when they first attacked our city that their flayed skins would already be hanging from the walls, and we would not be having this conversation."

Dorinna started to utter a sharp retort but was interrupted by a sudden burst of light in the room.  The assembled dark elves cried out in pain and blinked rapidly to restore their vision.  As the spots in front of their eyes faded away they looked up to see that the intruders had suddenly materialized in the midst of the chamber with them!

“Treachery!” screeched Dorinna as she realized what Solom had done.  “Destroy the interlopers!” she commanded.  “I will have Ned’razak’s head on a pike for his betrayal!”

The sounds of chanting and clashing steel filled the room as the companions were once more hurled into conflict…

Next: The battle for Szith Morcane resumes.  Higreld the Dispeller makes his mark.


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## Broccli_Head (Feb 26, 2003)

well...you haven't lost me!

now I'm wondering who will betry who first!


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## Carnifex (Feb 27, 2003)

That is one _unhappy_ Artimus 

I'm surprised though that he was loopy enough to think they could take out an archmage so easily...


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## Dougal DeKree (Mar 13, 2003)

*so? what happened?*

When will we get more of this? Please?! 

Dougal


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## Mathew_Freeman (Mar 13, 2003)

Hey Sniktch ol' buddy ol' pal of mine...

WHERE'S OUR UPDATE!? How could you leave us on "Higreld the Dispeller makes his mark"?!

I know you've been working hard, this is just a friendly reminder...


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## Donalbain (Mar 19, 2003)

*knock knock...*

Still alive?


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## Donalbain (Apr 8, 2003)

*?*

guess not.....


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## Sniktch (Apr 8, 2003)

I'm very sorry, Donalbain and evryone else.  I'm still here, but have been combatting an increased load at work plus a fair bit of 'burnout' and have been forced to take a hiatus from updating.  I'm very, very sorry, but I just need to take some time off.  I've been working off and on on the next update and hopefully I will have more soon, but between work and home right now the going is very slow...


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## Dougal DeKree (Apr 8, 2003)

*too much work...*

No worries, Sniktch, i guess we all know just how good those bosses are at channeling the energies their hormones give them during spring into pushing the working folks to work even more. At least that's how things seem to be over here  
Hope you get through all that well...so you can provide us with more CotS-goodness 

Cheers
Dougal, retired gnomish Illusionist


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## Donalbain (Apr 9, 2003)

*take care*

We'll be waiting.  Take your time.


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## Dungannon (Apr 26, 2003)

Okay, the group is supposedly gaming tonight, so maybe we can be blessed with an update in the coming week.


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## Sniktch (Apr 29, 2003)

*The Big Fight*

Hey, I got inspired today and the words started coming again, just like a faucet had been turned on within my mind.  At any rate, very much overdue and with my apologies, I present the next installment of my SH.  Hopefully inspiration will not leave me and I'll be able to catch up quickly (I'm about three sessions behind now).

*****

Gnish blinked his eyes to clear the spots he was seeing.  He no longer stood in the entrance chamber of the wizard school.  Now he was in an open area dominated by a large bubbling fountain in the center of the chamber.  A couple of female drow stood by the fountain, surrounded by a trio of males in fine garb.  The dark elves seemed unaware of his presence but he knew that wouldn’t last long.  With a shout, the deep gnome raised his hand crossbows and fired a volley of bolts at the group of elves, then dropped his weapons and unsheathed his kukri as he surged forward…

…and found his path blocked by a badly scarred dark elf warrior wielding a wickedly sharp double shortsword in either hand.  Gnish grinned and lunged low, sweeping his kukri towards his opponent’s legs with the aim of crippling him.  However, the dark elf was just too quick and too skilled to be removed from battle so easily.  He twirled his blades low and swept both the gnome’s kukri out to the side, then reversed his grip and slashed at the small warrior’s suddenly exposed head and chest.  Both blades connected with a shower of sparks and Gnish was driven backwards, feeling like a mule had kicked him.  The gnome’s enchanted skin saved him from serious injury but he regarded the dark elf with respect and caution now, waving his blades in a defensive pattern as he fell back from the whirling death before him.

Dorinna T’sarran realized in an instant what had transpired. “Treachery!” she screeched.  “Destroy the interlopers!” she commanded. “I will have Ned’razak’s head on a pike for his betrayal!”  As the sounds of combat erupted through the chamber, she began concentrating on the largest group of invaders, chanting a prayer to her goddess as she called a storm of divine fire upon their heads.  She completed her chant and raised her arms triumphantly, waiting for the wrath of the Pale Lady to consume her foes, when she felt the power drain from her and dissipate with no effect.  

Dorinna blinked in confusion as a small, broken figure levitated from her enemies’ midst and waggled a finger in her direction.  “Tsk, tsk,” chided the goblin.  “Not on Higreld’s agenda roasting is.  No match for my power are you.  A new playmate for you to play with, perhaps?”

A splashing noise came from behind her and Dorinna whirled to see the water of the fountain broken by a gnarled green giant that rose from its surface.  She shrieked in anger and sudden fear as the troll stretched to its full height and leaned towards her with grasping talons.

While Higreld focused his attentions on the high priestess, Artimas scanned the room and assessed the situation.  Gnish was fighting a furious but losing battle against the scarred male, while unseen to the gnome, a great black hunting cat with tentacles protruding from its shoulders moved in on his flank.  Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of movement and turned to see a pair of driders scuttling across the ceiling.  Meanwhile, the second female and the pair of richly dressed males were striding forward to meet Tierak and Larala in combat.  The necromancer frowned and considered a moment, murmuring a spell under his breath.  As he completed the incantation he felt his vision changing, and as the arcane energies coursed through his frame he turned and scanned the room again with the eyes of the dead.

Immediately the situation became much clearer.  Out of all the opponents before him, only the swordsman, the great cat, and the second drow female still drew breath; the rest, including the driders, were undead.  The necromancer smiled and turned to the fey’ri beside him.  

“Bruskin, shed some light on this problem for us, please,” he suggested and then turned his attention back to the fight.  Ripping a portion of his own life-force away, the necromancer empowered it with the touch of the dead and sent the resulting energy hurtling toward the second dark elf priestess.  She froze suddenly as the missile slammed into her, chilling cold spreading through her body and paralyzing her.  Artimas chuckled grimly and sent a mental command to his ethereal assassin, then considered his next strike.

Bruskin understood the mage’s suggestion and pulled a slender wand from his belt an instant before a pair of crackling streams of white hot energy tore through the air around him, setting his clothes alight and causing his hair to stand wildly on end.  Luckily, the protective spells he’d cast so long ago were still intact and he barely felt the jarring strikes.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Artimas hurled away by the force of the blast and could only hope that his ally was as well protected.  Bruskin closed his eyes and leaned forward, touching the tip of his wand to the cold stone floor.

Light flooded the chamber, a blinding, white burst that rivaled the sun.  Screams of pain and dismay sounded from the assembled drow and then a masculine voice spoke a command and the room went dark again.

The brief flash of light bought Gnish a sudden opening in his opponent’s defenses and the gnome went back on the attack, drawing two deep cuts in the elf’s side and then raising his blades for the kill.  His opponent recovered with preternatural quickness and easily parried the next strikes, slashing and chopping at the deep gnome with the other end of his weapons.  In an instant Gnish was back on the defensive, all of his skill focused on keeping the flashing blades at bay.  It seemed to matter little to the drow, who penetrated Gnish’s elaborate defense seemingly at will and rained blow after blow upon the gnome’s head and shoulders.  The little warrior backed away and parried as best as he was able, fully aware that the enchantment upon his skin weakened with each hit and brought him one second closer to death.

“Gnish, behind you, look out!”  Zooky’s voice rent the air and made him aware of a new threat.  He dove to the side and rolled away just as a long spiked tentacle swept through the air.  He received a glancing blow on the shoulder but was saved from a much worse injury by his friend’s warning.  A huge displacer beast with glowing red eyes and bony spurs protruding from its spine pounced at him, but he dove forward underneath it and rolled in the direction of the swordsman, who now seemed to be engaged in frantic combat with some unseen enemy.  Ignoring the sounds of the beast coming in at his back, Gnish charged the dark elf, accepting no less that four stinging hits from his blades, and drove both his kukri deep into the swordsman’s gut.  The dark elf staggered back, disbelief showing on his face, until an instant later something heavy and blunt struck his face and shattered it.

The pair of gnomes, one visible and one unseen, turned from their fallen opponent to face the enraged displacer beast.

Bruskin faced the driders as they perched on the ceiling and summoned eldritch power with which to strike him down.  He recognized the first spell and raised a shield of invisible force before him just in time to catch the volley of fiery green bolts, but the second spell passed through his barrier and burned into him, sizzling and sputtering as it bore deeper into his flesh.  The sorcerer gritted his teeth against the pain and spoke the command word for his wand again, once more bathing the chamber in bright light.  Once more the light was quickly countered by the drow but at the cost of valuable seconds, and the battle raged on.

Dorinna recovered her wits moments before the troll sunk its talons into her flesh and uttered a word of banishment.  The creature howled in rage as it was ripped from this world and sent hurtling back to the nether realm from which it came.  Rage contorting her beautiful features, she turned to confront the troublesome goblin, a prayer on her lips that would tear the life from his flesh.  Yet once again as she completed the final intonation the power was drained from her and her spell had no effect.  Higreld grinned crookedly and waggled his finger at her once more, heightening her fury, and she began praying once more to summon the power of her goddess to smash the wretch.

Meanwhile, in the center of the chamber Larala entered combat with the two handsome drow, joined by the Mask after the helpless priestess was disposed of.  Larala was a skilled swordswoman, but her opponents were possessed of supernatural strength and speed and easily dodged her slashes and thrusts, striking her with their bare hands over and over.  With each touch the crazed half-drow felt her life drained from her, until she was barely able to stand.  Her life was saved then by Tierak Morcane.  Standing calm as the battle raged about her, the priestess focused her will upon the closer of the two drow and dominated the undead elf, bending him to her will.  He turned to attack his companion, buying Larala the moments she needed to withdraw from the battle and hide in the darkness in the corners of the room.

Artimas saw that despite the fall of the swordsman, the gnomes were hard pressed by the ferocious displacer beast and fought a losing struggle for survival with each passing second.  He started to chant a ritual that would aid them in their fight, but his concentration was broken by a flurry of stinging red darts from the ceiling above him.  Growling in frustration and pain, the necromancer turned away from the desperate melee and bent one of the undead driders to his will, commanding it to attack the other.  Freed from distraction, he turned back to the combat and began casting again.  Black rays of energy knifed from his fingers and cut through the air where the beast should have been, bursting harmlessly against the wall behind it.  Ignoring the miss, Artimas pooled his energies and sent beam after beam streaking towards the beast.  Finally he connected and the creature slowed considerably, all the strength drained from its muscles.  Gnish and Zookie renewed their efforts against the greatly weakened beast and soon succeeded in slaying it.

Dorinna completed her chant and stopped, breathless, waiting to see if her spell would have any effect.  But Higreld the Dispeller was at the height of his powers and easily dissipated the ravening energies, chanting a ritual of summoning in return.  The dark elf priestess glanced around the room and seemed to notice for the first time how quickly her allies were falling, and the first thoughts of flight entered her mind.  Before she could act upon them, however, the air around her rippled and five hulking brutes stepped through.  The summoned ogres raised their clubs high, and Dorinna only had time to scream and raise her arm feebly to ward off the blows before they descended with crushing force.  The priestess was crushed completely, her body dissolving into intangible mist that floated up through the ceiling and away from the battle…

At the same instant, Bruskin activated his wand once more and flooded the room with daylight.  The remaining enemies thus got a clear view of the defeat of their leader and quickly fled, dispersing into smoke and following her through the ceiling.  The companions stopped to catch their breaths, hardly able to believe that for now it seemed they had reached a lull in the fighting…

Coming soon:  Welby makes some new friends, and the saddest day…


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## Mathew_Freeman (Apr 29, 2003)

The update! The holy update! Praise unto the Storyteller! 

Good stuff sniktch, worth the wait.


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## Inez Hull (Apr 30, 2003)

Aah, worth the wait Snicky. Any chance though of another update within the next month?


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## Krellic (Apr 30, 2003)

Many thanks!  Looking forward to the next one while your inspiration lasts...


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## Donalbain (May 1, 2003)

great update!


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## stringbean (May 23, 2003)

*Not sure where to post this, so....*

Been reading yer storyhour recently, because I wanted to get a feel for this adventure, as I am about to begin running my band of misfits and cut-throats through it.... Only problem is they number only 3.

My question is this: Even considering the Leadership feat - which one of them has - do these three heroes stand a chance?

Mordeccai Brother-Of-Clouds (Human Cleric 9 Radiant Servant 2)
Chance (Half-Drow Rogue 7/Fighter 3/Duellist 2)
Thrance the Whale (Human Fighter 11)

The first two are veteran players who are very familiar with each other's style of play, Thrance is a D&D newcomer.

After reading through the story hours so far, I have grave doubts.

Thanks fer yer opinions.
Stringbean


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## Ashy (May 24, 2003)

GREAT job, Sniktch....


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## Maldur (May 26, 2003)

Well done rat boy!


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## Dougal DeKree (Jun 24, 2003)

*page3?!?!?!*

Now, is this on page three because Sniktch has left us or everyone forgot about this SH??? THAT would be a pity!

Still alive, Ratman?


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## Carnifex (Jun 24, 2003)

A more effective way of getting Sniktch to update would be for me to tell him - Sniktch, you'll get that 5$ I owe you if you update


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## Maldur (Jun 24, 2003)

Sniktch is doing two jobs at the same time at the moment 

Hell return, with an update in the near future.


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## Donalbain (Jul 4, 2003)

Hey Sniktch, if you don't update soon my CotSQ party will finish the adventure before your party does.


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## Sniktch (Jul 8, 2003)

Many apologies to all, but Maldur hit the nail on the head.  I'm currently doing my job and replacing a manager who's taken ill at work, and I'm just very very tired and fried.  I promise to wrap up the story as soon as my brain cells start taking in oxygen again.

No one at work is telling me how long I've got to juggle the jobs of two people, so I have no idea when they're going to ease my suffering... 

Stringbean, I know this comes very late, but your party stands a chance if they try to avoid fighting like mine did.  My group's desire to hack & slay and search every nook & cranny cost them dearly, but at least they seem to have started to learn their lesson.

Donalbain, its quite likely your group will finish the adventure before mine.  Sorry, I can't explain yet but all will be revealed soon.  

And again, I'm very sorry to my readers for not keeping up with this.   This SH will be completed eventually.


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## Mathew_Freeman (Jul 9, 2003)

Sniktch, we can wait, and wait patiently. It'll be worth it, I'm sure.


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## Donalbain (Jul 9, 2003)

Tallarn said:
			
		

> *Sniktch, we can wait, and wait patiently. It'll be worth it, I'm sure. *




same here!


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## Son_of_Thunder (Aug 21, 2003)

*Hey Sniktch*

Sniktch,

Wassssup! Come on man! Update already.

Son of Thunder


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## Sniktch (Feb 16, 2004)

This has been far too long in the coming.  To my readers, I apologize for the delay and point the finger of blame at a too busy job, too busy life, and a bad case of writer's block.  The following text should not be considered an ending, although thus far it has been, but merely a hiatus while a DM and his players explore new settings and new lands.  The dead do not sleep easily and may return again in the not too distant future...

*****

* Welby makes some new friends, and the saddest day...*

Far above and completely forgotten, a small figure struggled to sit up.  Still extremely weak from the spider venom coursing through his veins, Welby vainly tried to gather his strength to follow his friends.  So focused on his exertions, he failed to catch the warning from his shadow friend until a large shape loomed over him out of the darkness.  A startled cry escaped his lips and the small warrior fell backwards, shaking hands trying to lift his blade…

“Do not fret, little one.  You must be the companion, the one we were told about.”

A tall human with pale skin knelt next to him.  The human wore voluminous dark robes, but Welby could see the symbol of Arawn dangling from about his neck.  The man regarded him impassively and called softly into the darkness behind him.

“Raak!  I have found the companion.  Artimus Sendant must not be far.”

The sound of flapping, barely noticeable until now, grew louder and another stranger appeared.  A five foot tall figure encased in a blackened suit of plate mail decorated with actual bones fastened to the steel in intricate patterns hovered nearby, supported by a ten foot span of demonic bat wings.  A shield gripped in one of its hands bore a stylized symbol of Arawn and the patterns on the armor portrayed the glory of death.  A boneguard of Arawn.

The figure held forth its other hand, revealing a delicate seeming glass globe filled with a briny yellowish liquid.  A severed finger floated in the midst of the fluid, currently angled so that it pointed downward at nearly a ninety degree angle.

A deep raspy voice issued from the helm, “The oracle is in agreement.  Our charge lies almost directly below.

“What ails the halfling?”

“S-s-spider,” stammered Welby, his mind racing.

The hand withdrew inside of the flyer’s cloak for a moment and re-emerged, the globe replaced by a glass phial.  “Drink,” the voice commanded, “Assainir pour venin.”

The pale man took the philter and unstoppered it, raising it to the stricken halfling’s lips.  Welby hesitated.  “Drink, my friend, this will help.  We are friends of Sendant; if we wished you ill it would be quite easy to kill you in this state.  Now drink, and tell us what has happened here.”

Welby tilted his head back and let the thick liquid pour down his throat.  As he swallowed he could feel renewed strength flowing through his limbs.  After he finished the bottle while they waited for his strength to return fully, the barbarian began to speak…

*****

Below, Artimus Sendant urged Higreld to hurry.

“Come, we must locate the priestess’ lair and destroy her before she can reform!  This battle has not ended yet.”

The Loathegrot stood before the dark elves’ scrying pool, tossing in odd spices and reagents.  “Patience must have you, time takes this right to do,” he chided.  “Ah, see?  Look!”

The goblin pointed towards the murky waters of the pool.  The companions gathered around and looked into its depths as the water cleared and a scene appeared.  They saw a small room with a trapdoor in the floor, dominated by a large stone sarcophagus.  Carved into its surface they recognized the likeness of Dorrina T’sarran.  As they watched, thick stream of smoke began to billow from the trapdoor and flow into the coffin.

Higreld waved his hand over the pool and the surface became murky and dark once more.  “See?  Found her we have.  Up we go.”

“Going up?  Then I guess we go this way,” Gnish called their attention to a silky ladder running from the corner of the room up through a hole in the ceiling before beginning his ascent.  One by one the companions followed him into a large forsaken room.  Across the floor were strewn the rotting corpses of dark elves long dead, intermingled with debris from smashed statuary and shattered glass.  Spider-like inscriptions running around the interior of the chamber were defaced with obscene drawings in blood.  On the far end of the room a great black altar stood, partially crumbling.

Artemis looked around, his brow furrowed.  “I’m not sure this is the correct path.  This looks like the old temple of Lolth, hardly the place I’d expect to find a vampiric priestess of Kiaransalee making her home.  And I sense that this place is not completely deserted, especially – no!  Zooky, stay away from the altar!”

Artemis’ warning came too late.  As the svirfneblin strayed near the altar, a misty shape coalesced above it, taking the form of a ghastly and spectral drow priestess, the pain of death still etched across her face.  The companions raised their weapons and prepared for another struggle, but the spirit merely smiled at them.  And opened her mouth.  And _screamed_.

One by one, the party succumbed to the banshee’s wail and dropped lifeless to the floor.  In the ringing silence that followed, Gnish looked over at the still bleeding Bruskin and discovered that they were the only two still on their feet.

Not quite… not the only two…

Another shape materialized the air above Artemis.  Grinning and brandishing his rapier, the Mask sighed, “Free at last, free… Let us begin again.”  Turning to the fey’ri, the ghostly assassin chuckled.  “So, are you victim number one, or victim number two?”

Bruskin and Gnish turned and raced for the exit.  Bruskin flew down as Gnish slid down the ladder to the room below, then they ran for their lives…

Into the teeth of the remaining drow.

*****

Far above, on the ledge overlooking the great chasm and the city of Szith Morcane, three travelers prepared to descend the web.  Welby stood between the pale man, a monk of Arawn named Lassivarius, and the Boneguard Raak, wondering for the countless time exactly what he was doing down here.

The boneguard considered the glass sphere again and a low moan escaped his lips.  As Welby watched, the suspended finger suddenly lost its bearing and slowly floated toa level position.  Then the glass burst and fluid and finger and glass showered the stone floor.

“Lassivarius, we are too late, we are undone!  Sendant is dead.  Sendant is dead…”  His voice trailed off into the surrounding darkness, and soon there was only the raging of the underground river, far below.


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## Sniktch (Feb 16, 2004)

And I have to admit that the prospect of writing up basically a TPK also fueld my mental block.  But there it is, finally.  Some day my players and I may come back to these characters and this adventure, but at the moment we're having too much fun exploring the waters around Freeport and exploring our new found powers with M&M.  I'm not going to promise anything as I have no idea if I'll be sitting down with a chance to write again anytime soon, but if I do get inspired and find a free moment, I might just start a thread to tell about some of our more recent adventures.


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## Mathew_Freeman (Feb 16, 2004)

Sniktch, thanks for telling the story of what happened on that final session. I can imagine that you weren't exactly inspired to write that, it makes fairly demoralising reading. I bet yourself and the players weren't exactly thrilled at that turn of events!

What was the DC of the save, and how badly did the players roll?


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## Broccli_Head (Feb 17, 2004)

But its good to reach a point of closure. Thanks for the story! Love your writing so hopefully you'll have another SH, no matter the genre.


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## htetickrt (Feb 17, 2004)

Man, the City of the Spider Queen is brutal, isn't it?  I have been slowly running a group through it for about a year now, and after reading yours and others' story hours, I'm beginning to think that not even my group of survivors will make it.  Whoa.

Anyway, it's a little late now, what with it being over, but I wanted to thank you for the story.  I'd been following it for some time and have really enjoyed reading it.  So, thanks!


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## Sniktch (Feb 17, 2004)

Thanks for the kind words, all of you.  Again, I'm just sorry it took me so long to get to it, but I guess that happens sometimes.

Tallarn, the banshee wail was a DC 22 Fort save IIRC.  Definitely above 20.  It was compounded by the fear save first, something like a DC 17 Will save that if failed gave a -2 on all subsequent saves, etc.  Without that fear save Zooky and Higreld, at least, would have remained standing - they both passed the save by 1 before taking fear into account.

Artimas rolled a 1 for his save, as his player nearly always does on a save or die roll.  I think Tierak rolled a 1 as well - I know there were 2 of them.

I think the near TPK may have demoralized me worst of all.  Play actually went a little further than this as Welby and his 2 new friends tried to rescue Bruskin and Gnish and recover the bodies of the fallen, and I may write about that sometime, but my heart wasn't into the game anymore.  And of course, any time the DM loses enthusiasm the game is going to suffer.  I started running another game to recapture my spirit and we've just never gone back.

Bring on Freeport and bring on the guns!


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## Dungannon (Feb 17, 2004)

Ahh, it's nice to have the conclusion to this adventure in writing finally.  And I look forward to reading about your M&M campaign.  As soon as you can get around to writing it up, that is.


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## Sniktch (Mar 26, 2004)

Artemis strolled down the Hall of the Dead for the second time, his failures in life far from his mind.  He had returned to the bosom of his Lord and might now know peace in the quiet Gardens of the Dead.

He reached the great gate and stopped, examining it in minute detail, revelling in the exquisite relief carved into its surface.  The gate was constructed entirely of bone and pain stakingly carved with images portraying the glory of death and the worship of Arawn.

Artemis studied the gate for hours, the pressure of time non-existant.  He had all of eternity, after all.  Finally, satisfied that he had taken it all in at last, he raised a hand and knocked loudly on the door, thrice.

*BOOM BOOM BOOM*

The noise resounded through the hall in which he stood.  After a moment, it swung open slightly and a cadaverous face peeked out from the inside.

"Ah, there you are.  We've been waiting, you know," the figure rasped.

"I did not realize there was any need for haste," the necromancer replied calmly. "Now let me pass so I can take my place by my Lord's side."

"You shall not pass, Artemis Sendant.  Our Lord is not ready for this; you have yet a role to play.  Return to the waking world, return to breath, flee the end, flee death.  The greatest reward awaits success, eternal oblivion the reward for death.

"Look back the way you came, Artimas Sendant, for you have those who await you there.  Look back."

The figure lifted a skeletal arm and extended one bony finger to point over the wizard's shoulder.  Artemis turned...

...and gasped for air, coming awake suddenly on a cold stone slab.  The cloying scent of incense hung thick in the air and a low chant echoed through the chamber, deep in the bowels of the city.  He sat up slowly, stiffly, looking from left to right, finding himself surrounded by the black robed clergy of Arawn, and also...

"Arty!" cried Welby and ran forward, wrapping him in a fierce embrace.

"Yes, little one, I have returned," replied the mage, stroking the small bald head fondly.  "Now come, take me to the others.  We have much to do."

*****

Sniktch says:

And it appears this game is making a comeback  I've talked to all the old players, including a couple that now live out of state, and we are going to attempt to revive it in PbP format.  So it looks like I will have more adventures to report soon as the companions re-enter the darkness below and make one final attempt to end the threat of the cult of Kiaransalee.

I've got a little fodder to start with as first Welby explains to Artemis how his body was recovered and safely returned to the surface, further negotiations with the archmage of Szith Morcane, and then a knock down slugfest as the party takes on the illithid prison known as the Spiral of Manzessine.  Hopefully by the time I catch up with this the PbP will be in full swing and I'll have more to report


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## Broccli_Head (Mar 26, 2004)

Sounds great! Can't wait to see more....especially how they recovred Arty's body...


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## Nightingale 7 (Mar 26, 2004)

Glad to see your campaign return Snitchk.I was a long time lurker,and your Story Hour was the first I read in the Boards.I'm pretty happy to see it returned.Now that Artemis is returning to life did you consider letting him trade some levels of True Necro for Mystic Theurge.It seems that True Necro was a failed PrC,while MT is it's bigger,better sister.Assuming you have switched to 3.5 of course.


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## DragonOfIntellect (Mar 28, 2004)

How exactly does Artimas' deity work, anyway?  I recall reading that Arawn disapproved of intelligent undead, but if that's true, why does Artimas summon so damned many of them?  I wonder how the Mask is going to end up playing a role in the future, assuming he didn't go off and try to kill Jack, Ike, and anyone else he once journied with.


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## Sniktch (Mar 28, 2004)

There are few gods in the world but several interpretations as to how each should be worshiped.  Each church is divided into sects and cults that have different beliefs and teachings.

When the campaign started, Artimas followed a very mild interpretation of the Book of Arawn.  Along the way, however, he has thrown himself in with a different sect, a much nastier sect, with a much different view of the way things work.  They do disapprove of intelligent undead - intelligent undead that are not part of the church, that is.  They also disapprove of non-intelligent undead left uncontrolled or in the control of someone other than a worshiper of Arawn.  

And of course some things have happened along the way that haven't been covered yet in the Prelude, such as Artimas' first death (at the hands of the Mask).  Artimas keeps him around out of spite, and also I think to remind the other player what will happen should he start to entertain thoughts of inter-party strife again .

Its not quite as extreme, but a good example of Artimas' change in beliefs would be like switching from Kelemvor to Velsharoon (maybe more like Jergal to Velsharoon).


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## DragonOfIntellect (Mar 28, 2004)

Is the Mask under his control again?  I would think that his death would've permanently broken the dweomer he was using to keep him under his power.  Personally, I think the party needs to gain a more cautious, reserved approach, and it wouldn't hurt to have a character around who counterbalanced Artimas' viewpoints and tactics.


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## Sniktch (Mar 28, 2004)

Heh - I would tend to agree with you but my players have always enjoyed rushing into things headlong.  As long as we're all having fun, right? 

In this game raise dead magic is fairly easy to come by, honestly.  In my Freeport game raise dead is 9th level and restricted to boot - they tend to be a lot more careful in that game.  

The party has gained a level and added some members (3) since the last bit detailed in the thread, and thats not counting the two who showed up looking for Artimas - we'll see if their tactics evolve with the new additions and with the painful defeats of Szith Morcane.  

As for the Mask, that should be covered in the next update


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## Sniktch (Mar 28, 2004)

Gnish was laughing as Artimas and Welby entered the low, smoke filled room.  Seated around the chamber were Zooky, Bruskin, Malobar (who looked decidely paler than when last Artimas had seen him), Tierak, Higreld, and two people he did not recognize but wore the symbol of Arawn: a gaunt, robed man and a winged dwarf with pronounced demonic features.  Zooky waved for them to sit and join the gathering, "Artimas, you're just in time!  Gnish was about to tell us what happened after we all dropped dead."

Gnish chuckled again, "Right.  Well, the first thing as happened was that scary ghost Artimas keeps around turns to Bruskin and he says, 'Are you victim one or victim two?'  Scared us right out of our wits, everyone dying like that and then him turning on us, so we took off running for our lives.

"The Mask gives chase, and he catches up to Bruskin and lunges forward to spear him on his rapier - Bruskin, being hurt real bad from his tango with the driders, closes his eyes and expects to die - and nothing.  The rapier just bounced off, didn't even scratch him.  In all that excitement he'd forgot that he cast his stoneskin spell, and turns out the Mask couldn't get through it.  Good thing Artimas couldn't afford to give him a better weapon.

"Well, the Mask was enraged at that, and howled, and gnashed his teeth, and kept coming.  We calmed down a bit and started moving a bit more careful, and the Mask keeps after us, trying to get around and stab at me, but Bruskin keeps movin' and getting in his way, really frustrating him.  Then we all stopped as we saw four figures approach - and its Welby with three people I never seen before.  On of 'em is this dwarf with bat-like wings, and he pulls out a holy symbol, waves it around and mutters something, and thats the last I saw of the Mask.  He disappeared with a wail and never did come back."

Here the winged dwarf cleared his throat and leaned forward, "Actually, the Mask is present amongst us, but hidden and very much under control again."

He stood up and bowed to those assembled, "Greetings!  For those I am meeting for the first time, I am called Raak the Breaker.  My associate Lassivarius and I were dispatched from the church in Greystone to aid Artimas after having received the letter he sent detailing his quest.  Unfortunately, we arrived too late to prevent your deaths.

"We followed a locator spell to Szith Morcane and stumbled upon Welby, weak still from spider venom and mournfully awaiting some sign of his friends.  We provided him with an antidote but as we prepared to enter the web the locator spell died, and we knew then that we were searching for a corpse.  Still, the locator had indicated that Artemis had been towards the very bottom of the city, and we resolved to make our way to the lowest level and work our way up.

"Proceeding onto the webway, we found resistance from the Drow to be minimal and reached the bottom without any difficulty."

"Minimal resistance once they saw Raak in action," interjected Lassivarius.  He stood and nodded, glancing around the room, then introduced himself and began describing what happened next.  As Lassivarius spoke Welby closed his eyes, the events of a few days ago replaying in his mind.

*****

Raak had jumped over the side of the cliff and spread his wings, flapping them slowly and circling to the roof of the great cavern, while Welby and Lassivarius set foot upon the web and started down.  The remaining Drow were ready for further trouble and responded quickly, sending a hail of bolts at the trio.  Welby responded in kind, raising his shortbow and firing at the closest dark elf.  The arrow grazed his target and the barbarian smiled; sure enough, the poison he'd milked from the great spider's carcass took effect quickly and the elf staggered and fell prone.  The halfling sent a mental command and shadowy fingers emerged from the stone near the stricken elf, nearly invisible, and quickly drained its life away.

Up above, the death knight grinned and folded his wings, dropping like a stone towards a group of warriors rushing the halfling and monk.  He slammed into the leading Drow and sent it hurtling off of the web toward the river below, then brought his warhammer across in a wide arc, smashing through a buckler with ease and crushing the ribs of the elf who held it.  Meanwhile, Lassivarius reacted by stepping in front of the halfling and knocking a bolt to the side with his hand, then picking up the little warrior and throwing him over one shoulder.  "Hang on," he warned, then sprinted down the web at a terrifying pace.  The wind seemed to be whistling past Welby's ears quite loudly, and his position offered him a clear view of the long drop below.  He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, holding on for dear life.

Raak caught a blow on his shield and at the same time felt a blossoming fire as another dark elf's sword entered his side.  He whirled as the Drow pulled back for another strike, catching the swipe on the head of his hammer and shattering his foe's blade.  Before the stunned dark elf could recover, a heavy mailed boot shot out and caught it in the midsection, knocking it backwards and off of the web.  The Boneguard turned back to his first opponent as he saw Lassivarius speed past.  He lowered his head, raised his shield, and charged forward, accepting another stinging hit in the process.  The dark elf before him's eyes widened as three hundred pounds of armored dwarf bore down upon it and dove to the side, and then the death knight was airborne again, spreading his wings and diving down, down to the bottom of the web.

By the time the Drow had regrouped, the trio had reached the lowest cave and disappeared from view.  Lassivarius put the halfling down and entered first, coming into an apparently abandoned guard post after a short entry tunnel.  Welby saw the gaunt man turn and motion that all was clear, then cry out and stagger to the side, blood beginning to well up and fountain from a gash in his side.  Welby ran forward to confront the attacker, then stopped as the _pale_ skinned elf turned and - 

"Malobar!"  Welby exclaimed.  "No, stop!  He friend!"

The rogue swiveled his head to face the diminutive savage, his eyes flashing red.  "Ah, yes, but you see, my dear Welby, I am afraid that I am most certainly not."  He smiled, parting lips to expose oversized and razor sharp canines.  Welby caught movement and turned to see two dark elves coalesce from the haze slightly off to one side.  

"Uh oh," he gulped.

Coming soon:  Reunions


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## DragonOfIntellect (Mar 28, 2004)

Which characters are NPCs, and which are new PCs, if any?  You know, the Mask really should've taken the opportunity he had to book it, or at least destroy Artimas' corpse.  But with the luck and tactics this party seems to possess, I'm certain he'll get another chance someday soon.


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## Sniktch (Mar 29, 2004)

Lassivarius is an NPC and is treated as Artimas' cohort.
Raak was a PC whose player was unable to remain in the group, unfortunately.  He became an NPC for the extent of Spiral of Manzessine.  Now that we're moving to PbP I believe he'll probably become a PC again.

Otherwise, Malobar makes a return (as a vampire now) and is being run by his old player after being released from dark elf control, (that player is also running Bruskin).  This hasn't quite been detailed yet in the SH but his return was strongly hinted at already ("Seated around the chamber were Zooky, Bruskin, Malobar (who looked decidely paler than when last Artimas had seen him)"), so I figure I'm not really giving anything away.

In addition, just before the Spiral one of my friends graduated from college and found he had time to play with us again.  A new PC and his cohort will join at that time.

As for the group's tactics?  Hmm, they've changed and they haven't.  The players go full speed ahead into the Spiral and make a frontal assault against the illithids.  But the mind flayers are not nearly as successful in fending them off as the drow of Szith Morcane.  What's the difference?  Oh, I suppose you'll find out soon enough


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## Snow Savant (Apr 1, 2004)

Sniktch,

Welcome back!  Your Story Hour for CotSQ was one of my all-time favorites.  So I was heartened to see you've revived the thread!

Will we soon be able to see stat blocks for the revised/existing characters ... and for the new ones (Lassivarius & Raak)?

Higreld Pel is still my favorite character of yours.  Your depiction of him is unlike any other I've seen/read in a story hour.  Regardless of his similarity to Yoda.     I'll be looking forward to seeing him play a big part along with his summoned beasties.

And Artimas?  He just plain rocks.  His new cohort sounds creepy as well.

Take care and glad to see the creative juices flowing again!


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## Broccli_Head (Apr 1, 2004)

Yah! This is probably the creepiest bad of PCs that I've seen. What's their motivation again to rid Faerun of this evil cult of Kiranselee? Cuz I can't see it being for the good of all goodly folk


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## Sniktch (Apr 2, 2004)

Actually, I have all the most recent sheets posted at http://www.randomlingshouse.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=3136 should anyone care to check them out.  This is the forum where the PbP will be played out.  There's another thread in that forum which has all the stat blocks for all the critters Higreld can summon.

BH, their motivation is - Arawn doesn't like Kiaransalee.  She's trying to intrude upon his portfolio and he wants her put down.  And Artimas is one of the favored of Arawn's evil aspect, and has a personal grudge against this dark elf cult now, so he is to be the agent of Arawn's will.  If he succeeds he will be rewarded with his ultimate goal of lichdom - should he fail, well, I feel sorry for him   

The other PCs and NPCs are there for a variety of reasons - some are around to kill dark elves, some are along for the ride, some are freshly escaped from an illithid prison and haven't thought of anything better to do yet, etc.


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## Jameumz (Apr 16, 2004)

Snow Savant said:
			
		

> Higreld Pel is still my favorite character of yours.




Much appreciated!


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## Sniktch (Apr 16, 2004)

Welby hesitated, then dove to the side as Malobar lunged forward.  The halfling rolled under the swipe, drawing his own blade and slicing the elf’s calf as he passed by.  The wound was bloodless and began to heal immediately, but the barbarian did not have time to think about this as one of the dark elves moved in on his flank and he was forced to parry for his life.

Lassivarius recovered from the pain and shock of the sudden attack and kicked his leg out, catching Malobar in the back of the knees and sending him sprawling.  Then Raak entered the room with a bellowed challenge and hurled himself towards the second dark elf.  The drow answered his challenge with a wide grin, revealing his fangs, and lunged forward.  The dwarf could not match the vampire’s speed with the blade and was pierced several times before he brought his warhammer up and caught the rapier on the massive flat head.  There was a ringing smack and glittering shards of steel flew through the air – Raak followed through and caught the drow in the chest, crushing ribs and sending it staggering backwards.  It glared up at him, still grinning, as the bones began to knit and its ribcage began to fill out again.

Meanwhile, Welby launched a furious offensive, driving his opponent back several paces.  As the dark elf recovered his footing and raised his blade, the halfling stepped back – and vanished!  Puzzled, the drow looked around, and spotted Lassivarius struggling with Malobar near the entrance.  A snide sneer curled his lips as he moved in on the monk’s unprotected backside and raised his blade to strike… and stopped suddenly, staring down questioningly at a length of gray steel protruding from his gut.  Welby twisted his sword and jerked it free, and an unholy scream escaped the vampire’s lips as it dissipated into smoke and flowed from the room.

At the same time, Raak crushed the skull of the other dark elf and forced it to discorporate.  As the pair of vampires fled for their coffins, Malobar took a step back and held up his hands, “Enough!  Stop fighting!”

Lassivarius paused, panting and bleeding from many shallow cuts, and snarled, “Prepare to join your friends, vampire.”

“But I’m free – they were controlling me, I had no choice but to fight.  Now they are vanquished I am in control of myself again.  We must hurry and destroy them in their coffins before they regain their strength, or else I will fall under their control once more.”

*****

Lassivarius leaned back and let Malobar continue the narration:

“Of course, we reached the coffins and destroyed the pair, and I retained my free will.  That was when we ran into Gnish and Bruskin, and the lunatic ghost chasing them.  Raak did something to the Mask –“

“Just showed him the power of Arawn,” Raak interjected.

“Right, well – the ghost gave a mournful wail and disappeared, and I have not seen him again since.  Gnish and Bruskin explained what had happened, and I went upstairs and retrieved the bodies of the fallen.  The banshee, to her eternal frustration, was unable to harm me, and soon we were ready to carry the corpses out of that foul place.”

“But I was not ready to leave,” Bruskin said.  “No, we had defeated Dorina T’sarran but she had escaped to her coffin, and I knew if we left then she would reform as if nothing had happened.  We had to find her coffin and finish her off.  A bit of exploration found it not far away…”

*****

Gnish entered the chamber first and jumped, hurling his dagger at the seated figure of Dorina T’sarran in the middle of the room.  The dagger passed right through her and clattered off the wall, and she did not react.  “Illusion,” sniffed the svirfneblin as he went to retrieve his weapon.

The survivors fanned out around the room and searched the walls.  Welby found a cluster of holes in one section, and soon a loose brick, which caused the section to slide inward when he pressed it.  Inside was a beautiful, ornate sarcophagus with the likeness of the dark elf priestess carved into its surface, and opening the sarcophagus revealed the form of Dorina T’sarran.  The vampiress had yet to recover from her earlier battle and was quickly dispatched.  Searching the coffin revealed a pile of coins and jewelry, as well as two rolled up documents – a map to the dark elf city of Maerimydra and a letter.

Bruskin opened the letter and read aloud:

_Daughter:

Our Dark Lady favors my efforts, and my research proceeds well.  Within five tendays, perhaps six, all will be ready for the Day of Great Vengeance.  The Spider Queen is dead; we have already brought low the Spider-kissers and seized our rightful place in the realms of the dark.  Now the Day draws near when we shall avenge ourselves on the day-blasted lands, too, and achieve the ultimate triumph denied us long ago.

While I prepare my Great Revenance, it falls to you to make ready the way.  Harry the surface-dwellers, hunt them in the woods and fields, and take the measure of their strength.  Do not concern yourself with putting them on their guard; our Lady desires their blood, their fear, and their dreadful anticipation of our ultimate act of revenge.  With each slaying we grow in her favor and sow the seeds of our coming victory.

If they come against you in Szith Morcane in irresistible strength, slay as many as you can.  Withdraw from the fight if you must, and bring Zedarr with you, but as for the rest - they are to stand and die for the glory of the White Banshee.  The battle for Szith Morcane will come to nothing when our Great Revenance comes to pass.  If anything, our final vengeance will be made even sweeter by each fleeting, false hope our enemies entertain before it falls upon them.

Work great slaughter for our Lady's dark glory, my daughter.  Soon I will come to you from Maerimydra with such dark and terrible might that all the world will tremble before us.

Mother_

Welby exchanged uneasy glances with Bruskin and Malobar.  They had thought their task would be completed with the fall of Szith Morcane, but it was clear that this was only the beginning.

Next: Second meeting with the Archmage of Szith Morcane


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## shilsen (Apr 17, 2004)

Nice, but I've got to say you're way too nice on your PCs to house rule that vampire control aspect (Malobar becoming free-willed just because the controllers were forced into gaseous form) the way you did. No killer DM cookie


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## Sniktch (Apr 17, 2004)

I know; sometimes my killer instinct lapses and I am way too nice to the PCs.  I'm so ashamed  

But after that awful banshee wail save, I admit I was eager to send a little bit of love the PCs way.  I was also eager to move on with the adventure and didn't want to spend a whole session just getting the party back together.  I promise to make up for it in the future and earn that cookie back (and honestly, the way Malobar has been acting lately, I'm not sure his return was really a blessing ).


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## tariff (Apr 20, 2004)

*cotsq*

Hey, found your page by accident.. Im also running this module and have our groups adventure log posted on my site below

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/tariff/TariffMana.htm


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## shilsen (Apr 20, 2004)

Sniktch said:
			
		

> I know; sometimes my killer instinct lapses and I am way too nice to the PCs.  I'm so ashamed
> 
> But after that awful banshee wail save, I admit I was eager to send a little bit of love the PCs way.  I was also eager to move on with the adventure and didn't want to spend a whole session just getting the party back together.  I promise to make up for it in the future and earn that cookie back (and honestly, the way Malobar has been acting lately, I'm not sure his return was really a blessing ).



 Ah well, I'm sure you can make them suffer later  Looking forward to the next update.


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## Maldur (Apr 23, 2004)

Sniktch said:
			
		

> I know; sometimes my killer instinct lapses and I am way too nice to the PCs.  I'm so ashamed
> 
> But after that awful banshee wail save, I admit I was eager to send a little bit of love the PCs way.  I was also eager to move on with the adventure and didn't want to spend a whole session just getting the party back together.  I promise to make up for it in the future and earn that cookie back (and honestly, the way Malobar has been acting lately, I'm not sure his return was really a blessing ).



 Actually his return might be very........


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## Sniktch (Apr 25, 2004)

They exited the tunnel to the giant web again and found themselves instantly surrounded by the remaining forces of the city, led by none other than Solom Ned'razak, the Archmage of Szith Morcane.

"Ah, the triumphant heroes return," he sneered.  "And looking a bit worse for wear, I might add."

"Yeah, dark elf - we did your dirty work.  The city is yours.  Now fulfill your half of the bargain," Gnish growled.

"And leave such dangerous potential opponents alive?  My dear gnome, why would I ever want to do that?  Give me one good reason to let you continue drawing breath."

Bruskin spoke, hating each word as he said it.  He yearned to slay drow - this drow, all drow - not bargain and deal with them.  But they had little chance of surviving this fight, and he could do more good by staying alive.  "My Lord,  might I have a word?"  He flapped closer, producing the scroll from the vampire's coffin.  "I believe if you read this, it will give you a very good reason to allow us to continue on our way.  Even, if I might dare suggest it, to continue to support us."

The wizard took the sheaf of vellum and studied it silently.  His dark skin seemed to pale as perused it, and when he at last glanced up, he appeared shaken.  "Ah, yes, a very good reason, a very good reason indeed.  Very well; our alliance continues a trifle longer, until the threat of Maerimydra be laid rest.

"If the Great Revenance comes to pass, we are all lost.  You must move with desparate haste."

The fey'ri nodded, calculating, "Then send us back to Brian's Stone, that we might recover our allies.  And if possible, provide means for our return."

The archmage scowled at him.  A tense pause followed, then Solom broke the silence, "I've had an idea.  I will teleport you back to your surface city so you may recover your strength.  I'm certain you can find your way back here again."

*****

Bruskin leaned back and placed his hands behind his head, smiling smugly.  "And here we are," he concluded.  


They departed the following day, once the newly risen had a chance to recover their strength.  They were quiet, grim, determined to succeed.  They spoke little - Higreld returned them quickly to Szith Morcane, and after consulting the map they'd found, they set out, exiting the city through the marketplace.  They stopped briefly to trade with some passing duergar merchants, but then they were moving into the tunnels beyond the boundaries of Szith Morcane, beyond the site of so much bloodshed and pain and into the wild underdark.

The first two days were largely uneventful.  They beheld marvels as they travelled - glittering caverns of crystal, silent dripping caverns decorated with sculptures of mineral and rock crafted by the slow course of time, strange gardens of fungus - but most of the journey consisted of long hours spent trudging through endless and ever-winding passages.  It was impossible to discern day from night, so when they were tired Artimas would erect a _secure shelter_ and all save Malobar would rest within.  The necromancer had developed an intense dislike of the rogue since his undeath and forbid anyone to invite him inside.  Young vampires were too wild and chaotic, and anyway the mage was generally opposed to any free-willed undead who did not follow the doctrines of Arawn.  When they camped the elf would take a chair out of his coffin and sit in front of the shelter, keeping a lonely vigil while his companions slept or studied inside.

This is how the stranger found him on their second 'night'.  Malobar looked up in surprise as the dark figure separated from the shadows and approached.  At first glance the traveller appeared to be a dark elf, but as the rogue stared closer obvious differences began to stand out.  The man had hands and feet ending in sharp talons and was covered in a mesh of fine black scales.  Two great draconian wings were folded behind his back.  Malobar leapt from the chair and drew his blade, but the stranger only regarded him with cold reptilian eyes.  Then he smiled a most disturbing crocodile smile and spoke.

"Stay your hand, elf, I have no wish to fight you.  If I had you would know it already.  I am merely a wanderer seeking news of the road ahead.  Perhaps if you  have a tale that might interest me I could repay you in kind."

Malobar stopped, unnerved by the man's cool confidence.  "Who are you and what do you want?" he called out.

"I am Sshumath Daerindra, a simple traveller.  And I have already told you what I seek: information."

The stranger seemed sincere and the rogue allowed himself to relax a little, sitting back down.  Sshumath strode over to join him, and Malobar regaled him with what he knew of their attack on Szith Morcane and the current status of the city.  The half-dragon listened attentively and nodded thoughtfully as the vampire finished his tale.

"And now you head to Maerimydra to take the fight to the Cult of the Pale Lady's doorstep.  I have recently passed by the city and can give you some idea of what to expect.

"Maerimydra is a city at war right now; at war with itself and at war with outside forces.  The followers of Kiaransalee were in control, but their grasp on the city was tenuous at best.  They are opposed by those of the populace with the bravery to fight, and they are also besieged by the followers of Kurgoth Hellspawn, a great fire giant conqueror.  I find it quite likely that you will all die there, but perhaps if you are intelligent you will find a way to take advantage of the situation."

Sshumath thanked Malobar for his tale and departed into the dark, and in the morning the vampire told his companions of the strange traveller and imparted what he'd learned.  As they broke camp they heard a rumbling in the distance, and the tunnel began to shake, dust and pebbles showering the gathered companions.  As the trembling subsided Zooky knelt down as if listening to the stone.

"Earthquake," she said after several moments.  "It is likely we will find the path ahead damaged or blocked."

The deep gnomes words proved prophetic several hours later, as Welby, scouting ahead, came upon a great cave-in that made the tunnel impassable.  The tunnel was not empty, however, and the halfling hunkered down in the shadows, examing the scene.  The denizens of the underdark had gathered in force and labored hard to clear the passage of rubble - drow, hobgoblins, and duergar all joined together at the task.  Two figures monitored their progress - tall, thin figures with bulbous heads.  All of the assembled creatures worked without speaking, creating an eerie silence broken only by the sounds of pick and shovel.

Welby crept back to the party and informed them what lay ahead, and Higreld visibly paled as the barbarian described the silent foremen.  "Illithids," he gasped.  "Preserve Old Ones us!"  The goblin tremulously described the race of mind flayers and what he knew of their powers to his companions.

"Fah, Loathegrot, we need not fear them," Artimas reasoned.  "It is they who will learn to fear the power of Arawn!  Listen; here is what we should do..."

The necromancer's plan worked flawlessly.  Malbar dispersed into gaseous form as Welby crept into position, and the pair of rogues took the mind flayers completely by surprise.  The halfling fired a poisoned arrow at one one illithid as the vampire coalesced behind another and stabbed it through the back.  Their tentacles waved in surprise and they both brought the force of their wills to bear upon the elf, blasting him with waves of psychic energy.  However, their powers proved useless against the undead; the vampire continued to hack with his sword, dismembering one foe as the poison took hold in the other's system and it fell powerless to the rocky floor.  A pair of black shapes emerged from the floor nearby and fell upon the helpless creature, draining it of life energy in seconds.  As the rest of the companions came into view they beheld dozens of slaves slowly breaking out of mind control, shaking their heads and gazing about in confusion.

"Now," said Artimas, "If we are going to fight mind flayers we will need an army of our own.  And what better way than to use their own slaves against them?"  He reached into his robes and brought forth a handful of rotting burial shrouds, reciting a strange litany as he cast them forward.  The aged rags disintegrated and several long, black shadows were called forth.  Artimas held forth the symbol of Arawn imperiously and commanded the summoned undead to feed.  As the assembled slaves broke free of their befuddlement they began to realize that they had not been rescued but damned.  The caverns began to echo with screams of terror and panic as the encroaching darkness closed in and the mind flayers' former slaves began to feel the freezing claws of undeath..

Next: The Spiral of Manzessine


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## Broccli_Head (Apr 30, 2004)

wicked!


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## Sniktch (May 3, 2004)

I posted an updated Rogues Gallery with the latest character sheets here on ENWorld now.  I also added some things like characters from my M&M games.  I'll also be starting a Villains thread soon to put in customized bad guys from CotSQ, M&M super-villains, and the like.

In other news, it looks like I'm taking a break from DMing for awhile - Lord knows its about time for one.  CotSQ has moved to PbP, my M&M game is currently in a crossover with another PbP I run and is being taken care of online, and I'm just going to put my Freeport campaign on hold for a little while.  Hopefully this will mean more time for writing SH updates as I won't be spending as much on developing and preparing the next session.  Right now I believe CotSQ is 2 to 3 updates behind and I have a long way still to go on the Prelude SH and M&M SH...


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## Mathew_Freeman (May 20, 2004)

Sniktch - firstly, great updates! Very interesting to see how this rag-tag band of strange types have come together.

Secondly - if you do start any new M&M threads, would you post the links here so that those who read your SH's have an easy way to follow them?


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