# Barrow of the Forgotten Story Hour - Complete! 8/13/08



## Abciximab

*Barrow of the Forgotten King Story Hour.*​
As the title suggests, I’m starting a story hour for our Thursday campaign to recount our adventures through the Barrow trilogy. I’m not a writer by any stretch of the imagination, so I apologize in advance for all the typos and horrific grammar. 

The 1st game saw 4 out of 5 players with a placeholder for the 5th to join in next time. We play (about) every two weeks so updates will be at about the same rate.

Characters are

Wencis – Aasimar Incarnate (1)
Celtir – Elven Cleric (2)
Frankarian Steelhaft (Frankie) – Dwarven Barbarian (2)
Bootsy – Gnome Sorcerer (2)
??? – ???

It is assumed Kingsholm is the (primarily) human version of Hobbiton, a community separated from the rest of the world by distance and the bravery of others unknown to an oblivious populace.


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## Abciximab

*The Beginning.*

*The Beginning.*​
Four strangers, simply looking for a comfortable place to rest in this sparsely populated area, find themselves in the middle of an emergency town meeting. 

Wencis – Aasimar Incarnate (1) (+1 LA)
Celtir – Elven Cleric (2)
Frankarian Steelhaft (Frankie) – Dwarven Barbarian (2)
Bootsy – Gnome Sorcerer (2)

Ian Turbrand, owner of the Coronet and Cabbage Inn and town councilor, stands in the middle of the common room speaking loudly about the apparent doom that has fallen upon the town. “Never! Never in our life time have we had any serious trouble in this community and now it would seem, evil has found its way into our midst!”

“'Midst?'” Celtir whispered to one his fellow travelers, “I thought the graveyard was almost a mile away?” 

“When you live your life in blissful ignorance of the evils that are kept at bay by the non-human nations around you, a mile is far too close,” answered Wencis.

The others also looked on with some doubt in their eyes. All were members of the border kingdoms, the (mostly non-human) kingdoms that kept this region safe, often at the expense of their own lives. This small human community was kept safe by an old pact made long ago by a long lost king, still honored by the nations that live on.

“Now is a time of heroes! Who among us will step forth and save the community from this evil?” asked Ian.

Many an eye was downcast, feet were nervously shuffled, throats cleared. “But… but you sent two sentinels, and neither have returned. We aren’t warriors,” answered Ol’ Jake, a farmer from the eastern edge of town. “Maybe you should send more of the guard, you know, like… maybe the rest of ‘em”.

“And who will guard the town? There is crime here in town, you all know this…”

A voice interrupted from the back, “I thought he was arrested…” 

“… and what if the evil comes here while they are away?” Ian continues, ignoring the comment and the nervous laughter. “Maybe this is just a distraction, to draw our protection away from the town itself!”

Frankie, always having a low tolerance for foolishness and drama, finally stepped forth, “What, exactly is it that has moved into your graveyard that has brought about the end of civilization as you know it?” 

Ian looked upon the strangers as if noticing them for the first time. “Two days ago a family of three went up to the graveyard and did not return. Two sentinels were sent to inspect, a human and one of your hearty race and they also have yet to return. This place has always been safe. We… we simply have no experience with this type of thing.” 

They all saw the exact moment of Ian’s epiphany and knew what was coming. “You… You all look like seasoned travelers. You sir elf, that is the holy symbol to the Elven god of war unless I miss my guess, could you help us? There is a reward you know.”

This peaked their interest. “How much?” asked Bootsy skeptically.

“50 pieces of gold,” Ian answered quickly, eager to set the hook.

The lack of response got Ian’s wheels turning, “Each!” Still nothing.

“And another 250 gold if you catch or destroy whatever it is that has defiled the place. Each,” he quickly added. 

“The 50 up front?” Bootsy asked just as quickly.

Ian thought for a moment, “Yes… though we could give you the equivalent worth in supplies, or healing drafts.”

“We’ll take a little of both, gold and goods to get us started,” answered Wencis. 

“Will none of you come with us?” asked Celtir.

Again, all looked about nervously. Ian finally answered, “We’ll send someone with you, as a torch bearer or some such. He knows his way around a blade as well if you’ll trust him with one.”

“Can’t say as I like the sound of that,” answered Celtir.

“He’s a small time crook. Never actually killed anyone, spends his days performing petty theft and swindling and after a visit to the pawn shop and the tavern, he spends his nights with Hairy Helga, the Half-Orc Harlot.”

“What was he arrested for?” asked Bootsy always the skeptic. 

“Assault,” answered Ian. Seeing they were expecting more he added, “He beat Gerren Landros, the nephew of the Town speaker, to within an inch of his life. Caught him bad-mouthing Helga apparently.”

“Great,” answered the four strangers together with little enthusiasm. 

And with that, the adventure begins.


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## Abciximab

*Descent.*​
“The gate is open, that isn’t a good sign,” stated Mia. The captain of the town guard was “escorting” them to the graveyard. The adventurers assumed she was just making sure they didn’t run off with the 50 gold without investigating. As they passed through the gate, they saw the bodies lying on the steps of the mausoleum. “This is as we feared, I must run back to town to let them know,” Mia said, before almost running back the way they had come.

“Coward,” Celtir whispered harshly. 

“Ah, don’t judge them too harshly,” answered Wencis, “they are simple folk unused to conflict, let alone violence.”

“No, I assumed she saw the wolves hiding behind the statues and another darker one further back,” said Celtir.

At this, the remaining companions stopped and looked up toward the mausoleum. “Damn, we can’t even get inside without something attacking us,” grumbled Bootsy. 

As one, they rushed up the hill and were met by all three wolves. Using his soul magic Wencis summoned a magical war hammer and struck one of the wolves a glancing blow. A swipe from Frankie’s great axe finished it and another was wounded by Bootsy’s crossbow. The two remaining wolves seemed to take exception to Wencis and attacked him, biting at his legs. One grabbed his foot and pulled him off balance dropping him onto his back. Blades flashed, bolts flew and the remaining wolves were quickly killed.

“This one is different,” Celtir observed pointing to the dark wolf, “a young Worg unless I miss my guess.”

“Nah,” observed Bootsy, “they’re all the same. Dead.”

They moved up to inspect the dead bodies on the steps. “It’s the guards. The Dwarf and the human,” stated Celtir. They all glanced at the bodies then over at Bootsy who seemed to lean in for a moment. They noticed a little blood on one of his fingers.

“Don’t look at me,” he said, “I got nothin’.”

Moving quickly they stepped up to the doors and followed the blood trail inside, ready for anything. There was nothing. The room was obviously used to prepare bodies for internment and had already been ransacked by someone else. They all moved to a door that stood at the back of the room. It opened easily and they followed the stairs beyond down into the… light.

The room beyond was well lit with guttering torches mounted along the walls. At the bottom of the stairs they saw the bloody corpse of a human woman. The statue of a winged celestial stood to one side of the room. Seven tables lined the east and west walls, all but two holding corpses and a pile of broken stone separated this end of the room from the other. Rows of vaults filled the far wall.

“Those two bodies are relatively fresh,” noted Celtir, always observant. “And one of the vaults has been spiked shut.”

“You can see that from here?” questioned Wencis as he squinted his eyes and tried to examine the far wall.

Celtir just smiled and walked across the room, intent on inspecting the vaults. As he stepped beyond the rubble, a volley of arrows flew from the east, all missing their target. “Skeletons!” he shouted, alerting the others. As they moved to help, two of the bodies on the tables stood up.

“We got zombies!” shouted Frankie, swinging at one of them with his axe. Wencis approached the other, striking with his war hammer. It seemed to shrug off some of the damage and flailed back at him, striking him a solid blow on his arm. Celtir ran to confront the skeletons, shattering one with his weapon. The remaining two dropped their bows and clawed at him, one struck him twice. One claw left just a scratch, the other gouged deep. Bootsy approached one of the zombies and hurled a vial of holy water. Shattering on the head of the creature the liquid ran down over the side of its head and neck, burning away rotted flesh like acid as it went. Frankie struck at the feet of the zombie in front of him, cutting away one of its legs. It dropped back onto the table but still struck at him. He barely noticed the blow. 

The other zombie fell beneath the combined onslaught of Wencis’ war hammer and yet another vial of holy water from Bootsy. Wencis quickly moved to scramble over the rubble. A number of strikes from both skeletons missed Celtir, but his own strikes were no more effective then those of the undead before him. Frankie brought his axe down onto the skull of the zombie in front of him, finishing it off. He then stumbled over the rubble to join the others, with Bootsy following close behind. Wencis and Celtir had things well in hand by the time they arrived, dispatching the last two skeletons quickly.


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## Abciximab

*Puzzles*​
“Ok, good or evil, it’s obvious something has been sealed in there,” said Celtir as he examined the sealed vault. “The question is, do we open it?”

“We open it,” Wencis answered.

A couple quick tugs showed it was firmly set. As they pulled and levered, they heard a short squeak from within. Sharing a puzzled look, Frankie and Celtir stepped to either side of the door. The two of them worked at the door for a couple of minutes before finally levering off the door. A young girl tumbled out, disheveled and frightened. 

“Little Miss Yurling, I assume,” said Celtir. A brief examination showed she was frightened, hungry and thirsty but otherwise ok. “We should take her back.”

“Bah, it’s a 15 minute walk though the safest place in the realms, we have more important things to do here," said Bootsy.

A short discussion and it was agreed, she would walk back alone. She would run back, as it turned out. 

Celtir and Wencis shared a guilty look and then moved to the east where there was another door. Beyond was a passage with the statue of a woman. There were small fountains on either side of her set in niches along the northern wall. A closed stone door stood opposite and more vaults lined the east wall, all obviously looted. Beyond the second fountain was a hall leading off to the north. As they stepped in, they noted the hall smelled like rain. Bootsy moved to inspect the fountains and the statue while Celtir moved beyond to look down the hall. The others inspected the stone door. 

“Nothing exciting here,” said Bootsy as he walked around the statue. “What’s everyone else got?”

“Seems like a simple stone door here,” answered Wencis, with a shrug.

“Well, I’ve got something interesting,” answered Celtir. The others moved to look. Two short sets of stairs led down to a stone door with no obvious handle and a strange carving. Engraved into the door was a Beholder, also known as an eye tyrant, with words carved beneath. 

_Magic Dies, Fast Men Slow, The Passage You Seek is not Below.
Eye of Death, Eye of Stone, The Key to Passage They Haven’t Shown.
Fear and Mind, You Can Say, Will Move You Around in the Wrong Way.
Friends are Shy, Sleep in Rest, Neither Points to the Passage That’s Best.
Enemy Friend, Painful Wound, Oblivion Aids it is Runed._

Bootsy had to look twice to make sure he was seeing the same thing as everyone else. “Well, the images seem to indicate the different effects of the Beholders eyes. Oblivion aids? What the nine hells does that mean?” he asked.

“Maybe it has something to do with opening the door,” Celtir answered, as he pushed on the door. “It won’t budge.”

“Well let’s check the other stone door,” said Wencis.

They all moved back to the other door and Frankie stepped up and pulled it open. Three steps led down to a large vault. As he stood there he heard a low whirring sound that quickly faded away. A statue stood to the east, a man in robes holding a book, eyes downcast. Two sarcophagi sat at the base of the stair, small niches were built into each of the walls in no particular pattern. The entire place looked as though it had just been cleaned. 

“Well, this doesn’t seem the slightest bit suspicious,” Bootsy stated sarcastically. “Stand back, I’ve an idea.” He spread his arms before him and summoned forth a dog within the room. The moment it appeared, four small mechanical creatures that resembled wasps flew from the niches and struck at the animal with sharp proboscis. The animal started stumbling about, biting one of the creatures and crushing it within its jaws. The dog was obviously affected by something more then just the obvious wounds as it clumsily lashed out again before disappearing back to its home plane. Bootsy slammed the door shut. 

“How many more times can you do that?” asked Wencis.

“Bah, waste of resources, everyone ready a missile weapon. Frankie, get ready to open the door,” said Bootsy as he loaded his crossbow.

Once they were all ready, they pulled open the door. Bootsy threw in his pack and, as the creatures came out to inspect the disturbance, bolts and arrows flew and two more of the creatures fell to the floor. As the last turned toward the doorway, Bootsy stepped forward and slammed the door shut. “One more time ought to do it,” he said as he smiled and stepped back to reload his crossbow.

Less then 20 seconds later they were all within the vault, inspecting its contents. “There’s nothing interesting about the statue, nothing written in the book. He is looking down though, wasn’t there something about a ‘passage below’ on that other door?” Bootsy asked.

“I think it was ‘not below’,” answered Wencis.

“The sarcophagi don’t move,” said Celtir. ”Let’s see what’s inside. Frankie, give me a hand here.” After a brief struggle the two of them forced open the two sarcophagi. “Well nothing obvious. I hate to do it but…” He leaned over, slicing at the linen and burial robes of one of the bodies. Beneath was a small metal tube with a striker. He lifted them out and, with a quick look at those gathered around him, shrugged and hit the metal tube with the striker. A short crystal clear chime sounded for a moment and then faded away. Nothing happened. “Ok, back to the other door.”

Standing once again in front of the “Beholder Door”, Celtir sounded the chime once again. Again the chime rang for a short time but then disintegrated into dust. With a doubtful look back at his companions he pushed against the door. The door slid back, then to the side, revealing an oddly shaped room beyond. Bright white light illuminated a room that was divided into four distinct areas with tiled floors. Each octagonal area was roughly the same size. The closest had a stylized eye carved into the center tile. As they entered, they spread out, each going to a different area. Bootsy stepped up to the eye and cast Detect Magic. “This whole area radiates a strong aura of magic, I can’t differentiate any part of this place from another,” he stated. Then, shrugging, he stepped onto the eye. He felt magic wash over him, dispelling the Mage Armor he had cast earlier as well as the Detect Magic he had just cast. “Damn”, he swore as he stepped away to renew his Mage Armor.

Wencis went to the North. There he saw 3 tiles with carvings, 2 of them were not firmly set into the floor. “Oblivion aids…”, he said quietly. “There’s a carving of a man being disintegrated here.” He looked closely at the tile, and then stepped upon it. “Nothing here,” he called back to the others.

Frankie was investigating the three carved tiles to the east, while Celtir made a quick circuit throughout the areas. “The images are in a different order if you follow them left to right. Look, some of them can be moved.” He reached down and lifted two of the tiles from the western room. “Drop this one back one…” he started, thinking out loud. Making a few trips back and forth, he placed the tiles in the same order around the rooms as they were on the door. They heard a brief yell from Wencis, who was still standing on the tile in the middle of the north room. Frankie in the east and Celtir in the west looked to Bootsy, who was still standing in the central area. “It’s ok. The tile just disappeared below him. Judging from the short duration of his scream, the drop couldn’t have been that far.”

They all moved to look down the newly opened exit in the floor of the north room. Wencis looked up at them looking a little sheepish. “Wasn’t expecting that,” he simply stated.

As the others climbed down the ladder into the small space, Wencis moved down the stairs to the east to make room. Five feet down there was a landing where the stairs turned to the south. As he started down, he noticed some movement in a pile of bones on the next landing. At almost the same moment a distant howl sounded as two doglike skeletons rose from the piles. “More skeletons,” he shouted over his shoulder as he moved down to strike at the wolves with his hammer. The others came down quickly, squeezing around one another in the small space, trying to get to a position where they would be most useful. Frankie moved to the front, striking at them with his axe. He found it hard to find a good place to strike the hollow creatures, but with his strength his blade still did significant damage. One of the creatures bit Frankie on the leg, but the two were no match for the companions organized offence and fell quickly. 

As Wencis stepped down the last flight of steps to the west, a huge rotting creature stepped forth and swung a meaty fist at him. He managed to dodge the attack even in the narrow stair and again he called out, “Undead… uh, I think it was once an ogre, it’s big whatever it was!”

Once more, there was a rush through the cramped space as Frankie and Celtir fought their way to the front, each slashing at the creature and damaging it somewhat. Bootsy, now out of Holy Water, broke out the acid. The effect on the undead was about the same, though his allies did not appreciate the splashing drops that pitted their armor. The large creature lashed out at those moving around it, though the cramped quarters seemed to be working against it. As Frankie dug his axe into the creature’s leg, the creature finally made contact. It struck Frankie with a solid blow across his head, though this proved to be the zombies undoing. Frankie was stunned for just a moment and then grew enraged. Frothing at the mouth, he lashed out again, this time burying his axe deep into the chest of the zombie. The creature fell to the ground with a loud thump.

“I think we need a break,” said Bootsy. “Our resources are sapped. How long have we been at this?”

“Uh, about 45 minutes…” answered Wencis.

The companions looked at each other and, shaking their heads, headed back up the stairs.

End of Session 1.


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## Abciximab

Session Notes.

I was wondering how things would go, I've read about a number of problem with the difficulty level of the mod, so far it seems right on target for a party of 4. Getting past the sealed Beholder door presented a challenge, so I made some changes. 

Players did well (Some good rolls, especially spot checks), as I expected and moved very quickly. Short sessions (2 1/2 hours or less) so keeping the game going is important. A lot of humor around the table as well, I don't think that aspect is reflected in the story, but I'll try to see if I can work it in more in the future.

Typing from memory (Time for notes? Ha!) so there are a few details missing (I remembered after the fact the gnome summoning a dog for the 1st encounter).

Player and outside comments are welcome (Please keep future spoilers out of this thread).


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## High Cleric

*A comment from the party's cleric*

Very accurate portrayal and very well written, especially capturing just how someone would act when the floor disappears underneath them! LOL. 
I think you have captured the players traits in the PC's pretty accurately.


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## Abciximab

*Over the Bridge*​
“So… Back at it?” Wencis asked, stretching as he pushed himself away from the remains of his morning meal. 

“Yeah, I think we’re ready,” answered Celtir. “Anyone need any more healing before we go?”

The others shook their heads. Bootsy was unscathed yesterday and though Frankie had come very close to being killed by the large zombie, Celtir had healed most of his wounds the night before. He was left with a few minor cuts and bruises but felt well enough to continue.

They had returned to the Coronet and Cabbage to rest for the remainder of the day and overnight. As they had come down for the evening meal they had found a well dressed elderly lady waiting for them, the little girl they had rescued close to her side. As they crossed the room, the gray haired lady moved to meet them. “My granddaughter tells me you rescued her and showed her some kindness and I thank you. We Yurlings try to pay our debts and though there is nothing I can give you that is worth the life of my granddaughter, I hope you will accept this small token as a thank you.” With this, she had handed a small pouch to Wencis that was obviously filled with coins. 

Noting Frankie was not yet present, Bootsy smiled, greedily rubbed his hands together and squealed, “Three way split!” With the others giving him a disbelieving look, he added somberly, “Just kiddin’.”

During their morning meal, they had talked a little about preparations for their next foray into the mausoleum. Pushing away empty plates, they divided the reward and agreed to meet back here once each had run their individual errands. A short time later, they had all returned and, with a grim look on their faces, headed off once again to the graveyard. Wencis was followed closely by what appeared to be a little flying ball of energy.

Approaching the mausoleum after the short walk to the graveyard, Bootsy commented, “Good thing we shut the gate.” The others looked at him questioningly and he continued, motioning for the others to look around the graveyard, “No wolves.”

Returning to the “Beholder Room” through the door they had wedged open, they we’re surprised to see the puzzle had reset, the tiles once again in the wrong order. 

“Looks like we do it again”, said Celtir.

“Do you think I have to be standing on the ‘Disintegrate’ tile again for this to work?” Wencis asked, with some apprehension. 

With a bemused look, Celtir answered, “Uh, no I don’t expect so, let’s just try rearranging the tiles and see what happens.” Once again they placed the tiles where they belonged and the entry tile disappeared revealing the ladder down. Forming a short cue, they descended into the dark, returning to the small room at the bottom of the stairs. The smell of rot filled the small space as the corpse of the zombie continued to decay. Celtir stepped forward and opened the door.

Beyond was a narrow rope and wood bridge, spanning what looked like a natural crevasse filled with gray water. At the far end they could see a small room with two exits. After a quick inspection of the bridge, Celtir turned to his companions, “Well, there’s only one thing for it,” he said and then moved cautiously out onto the span. About halfway across, his sharp eyes noticed the ropes at the far end quickly unraveling. Muttering a brief expletive, he tried to run forward and leap the rest of the way. Unable to find solid purchase below him as he jumped, he found himself tumbling down into the water. Coming to the surface quickly he sputtered and wiped the water from his face. Discovering the water was only four feet deep, he stood and started to make his way back toward his companions who were stifling laughter. The snickering quickly turned to surprise when, within arms reach of the nearside, they saw a gray glob rise from the water and grab Celtir from behind. Their surprise was reflected tenfold in Celtir’s face as he was pulled over backwards into the water. Wencis quickly jumped down to help him as he thrashed below the surface, struggling to escape. He broke the surface, for a moment coughing and sputtering to Wencis, “Kill it!” Once again, he was jerked below the water.

“Kill it? I can’t even see it!” he answered as he slammed his hammer into the water where he thought the creature might be, but struck nothing more than water.

Bootsy, up on the landing, pushed Frankie aside. “I never thought I’d get to summon one on these,” he said, giggling and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Focusing himself, he started to cast. 

Wencis kept flailing away as his Soul Spark fired little balls of energy into the water, trying to find the creature that was all but invisible within the water. Celtir struggled to hold his breath while being buffeted and slammed by the creature. His feet slid on the algae covered walls and floor as he tried, unsuccessfully, to escape the creature that held him. A fin suddenly appeared in the water beyond where Celtir thrashed and, for a moment, Wencis thought things had gotten worse. Looking more closely, he realized the creature was a porpoise and hearing Bootsy laughing and clapping his hands together with glee, knew where it had come from. 

A few short clicks allowed the porpoise to zero in on the threat and it swam forward, slamming into the creature holding Celtir. The strike loosened the grip of the creature for a moment and Celtir was finally able to break free. He quickly moved past the porpoise to get away from the ooze and get his bearings. A crossbow bolt flew overhead, flashing into the water and seemed to strike something within the water. Wencis continued to splash away with his hammer, shaking his head as he failed to strike anything but water, not wanting to believe a sorcerer with a crossbow could be more effective at fighting then he was. He heard Bootsy’s mocking voice from above, “Firing into combat at an invisible creature and I can still nail it! Ha! And that was with both eyes closed while standing on one foot!” he taunted. Wencis just shook his head once more, sure that there was something wrong with the world.

The porpoise lunged again but missed just before disappearing, returning to its home plane. Wencis and his Soul Spark were just as ineffective, water splashing into his face as he struck at the creature. Finally, Celtir fired an arrow that lanced into it and the water grew still, the ooze losing cohesion and dispersing in the water. 

“Right,” said Bootsy, “Let’s find a way across that doesn’t involve me getting my feet wet.” Wencis and Celtir, both completely soaked, shared a bemused look.


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## carborundum

Great start! I'll be DMing this myself in a few weeks, so it's a great resource to see what other groups get up to 

Looking forward to more episodes of this hilarious journal!


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## Abciximab

carborundum said:
			
		

> Great start! I'll be DMing this myself in a few weeks, so it's a great resource to see what other groups get up to
> 
> Looking forward to more episodes of this hilarious journal!




Thanks for the encouraging words! There's more to come from this session, I'm working on the write up of three more areas they covered.  Some interesting encounters ahead.

I've been looking for write ups from other players for this trilogy, but haven't come up with much, though I read a lot of feedback about potential stumbling blocks for the party. So far, I think the mod is fairly well balanced for a party of 4. We'll see what happens if our 5th party member ever decides to show up. Hope you have fun with your adventures though the Barrow.


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## Abciximab

*Death's Door*​
“It’s freakish the way he never seems to miss,” Wencis whispered to Celtir. “Don’t mages have to spend all their time in study and research to master their magic?”

“Bootsy’s magic comes from within, not from spell books. Perhaps that leaves him more time to practice with the crossbow,” Celtir answered. “He has certainly mastered reloading it quickly and that is no easy feat.”

They had struggled across the water, each refused to carry Bootsy, who finally had to jump down and try to swim across. Watching him do a poor version of the dog paddle, Wencis finally took pity on him and pulled him to the far side, where Celtir had already climbed up and fastened a rope. Soon the companions were standing together in the small chamber, wringing out their clothes and drying their equipment as best they could. 

Two doors stood on opposite sides of this chamber. The one in the south was cracked and broken and had obviously been broken down, dirt and rubble covering the floor before it. The other door seemed sound as the companions moved up to it. Once again it was Celtir who stepped forward and opened the door. 

Beyond was what appeared to be a hexagonal room, though it was hard to be sure since it seemed to be divided by a number of interior walls. The outer walls were covered in scenes of men and women of all races carousing in a tavern. One scene showed a Golden Dragon defeating a great Red Dragon. Two statues stood along the south and east walls, one a knight, the other a beautiful princess. Celtir and Wencis moved in opposite directions to inspect them both, while Frankie and Bootsy waited outside the room. 

As Celtir arrived at the statue of the woman, he heard a shuffling sound behind him. Turning around quickly he saw a fast moving creature, obviously undead, with horns on the top of its head and long arms that almost dragged on the ground. Held in its rotting grasp was a scimitar. With cat-like reflexes, Bootsy shut the door. Both stifling a curse, Celtir and Wencis drew their weapons. The creature lunged forward, moving faster then any zombie Celtir had ever seen and slashed at him. The zombie’s weapon opened a shallow wound down his right arm. Celtir stepped back and fired an arrow into the creature as Wencis came up behind it and, with hands wreathed in gauntlets of glowing energy, punched the creature. The energy seemed to wash over the zombie’s back, causing it some small injury. 

Out in the hall Frankie looked incredulous. “Don’t you think they might need our help in there?” He asked harshly.

“Sorry,” answered Bootsy as he loaded his crossbow, “Just a reflex.” Frankie opened the door once again and Bootsy fired into the melee across the room. Wencis was startled by a bolt whizzing past his left ear, past the zombie and hitting the far wall. Bootsy looked nonplussed, “Huh, guess you can’t hit ‘em all.”

Calling on his Deity, Celtir’s hand glowed with positive energy as he stepped forward, touching the zombie on its arm. The bright energy burned at the undead creature angering it further. Lashing out once again, the creature sliced into Celtir’s shoulder. Wencis once again punched with his gauntlets, burning the creature with his soul energy. 

Two more of the creatures stepped out from behind the walls on opposite ends of the room, though these were obviously alive. One ran up to Celtir, striking him with a scimitar and running back to where he had started before Celtir could even react to his presence. The other creature fired an arrow that glanced off Wencis’ armor. 

Bootsy, focusing his attention on one of the new arrivals, drew a bead on its head, “Hey!” he shouted to get its attention. As the creature turned to look at him he fired, the bolt burying itself in one of the creatures eyes. Amazingly it still stood, dropping its bow and drawing a short sword as Frankie stepped forward, slashing with his axe but missing the creature.

Wencis and his Soul Spark continued to strike at the zombie, as Celtir fired at the other living creature, striking him in the arm. Once more the goblinoid ran forward and, with a snarl, drove its scimitar into Celtir’s chest. The creature laughed mockingly as he withdrew the blade and once again ran back. Celtir, his bow dropping from his hands, fell to his knees, then pitched forward to onto the floor, his life blood pooling around him.

Bootsy quickly reloaded and fired once more. Amazingly, the bolt pierced the creatures other eye and it fell over backwards onto the floor. Frankie ran forward and hacked at the zombie, his axe biting deep into its back. Turning, the zombie slashed at Frankie, the scimitar glancing off his stiff leather armor. Running forward once again, the remaining goblinoid attacked Wencis, but his blade flew wide of its mark. Another bolt from Bootsy also missed its intended target as Frankie wound up and buried his axe deep into the chest of the zombie. Pulling his axe from the creature, Frankie watched it fall to the ground. Wencis struck the remaining creature a solid blow to the head and it finally dropped to the floor as well. Running forward Bootsy quickly frisked Celtir, looking for a potion but finding none. “He still lives,” he said. ”Perhaps he’ll stay that way if we work fast. Anyone got any potions?” Everyone made a quick check and indicated they had none left. The scramble was on as each of the companions worked to stop Celtir from bleeding out. Wencis was finally able to pack the wound and stop the bleeding just in time. Celtir was deathly pale, but still lived. 

The room and its former occupants were quickly searched. Bootsy found two potions on one of the goblinoids. Pocketing one he checked the other. “Here’s a healing draft”, he said. “But it’s a minor one.”

Frankie stepped forward, “Here’s a vial I found on the other one. Can you tell what it is?”

“Here, let me see it,” said Bootsy as he took the vial and inspected it. “Yeah, that’s the one to get him off of death’s door.” 

Wencis knelt to help Bootsy administer the potion to Celtir. Soon, the color was returning to his cheeks and his eyes opened. “See what happens when the God-Botherer goes down?” Bootsy said with a smirk. “Ya’ have ta use up yer non-renewable resources.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind and try not to almost die in future encounters,” answered Celtir dryly.

After healing himself and the others, Celtir asked, “So which way, the broken door or the double doors to the west?”

A short discussion brought the companions back to the broken door. Frankie braced himself and lifted the door, moving it off to the side with a crash. 

Beyond was a chamber that was probably part of the tomb, but was covered in piles of dirt and rock. A small pool of water had accumulated to one side. Right next to the door a rope ladder was hung, disappearing up though a hole in the ceiling to who knows where.

Frankie and Bootsy entered the room and looked around at the rubble. As Bootsy moved closer to the ladder, a long rubbery arm lashed out of the hole striking Bootsy in the head. He ducked aside, to escape from the grasping hand. Quickly loading his crossbow, he fired a shot that stuck into the earthen ceiling around the hole. 

Wencis heard the commotion and entered the room to see what was happening and if he could be of any help. Not knowing what had happened, he was not expecting an attack from above. The arm lashed out and a strong hand grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground and pulling him toward the ceiling. With his feet thrashing a few feet off the floor he was unable to free himself from the grasping hands as they started to choke the life out of him. Jumping forward, Frankie tried to help pry him free, but was unable to get a good grip on Wencis. Stepping closer, Celtir fired an arrow up at the rubbery creature, striking it in the shoulder. He soon regretted stepping forward as Bootsy hurled a flask of acid at the creature. The vial struck the ceiling right next to the creature and everyone recoiled as they were showered with acid. The companion’s actions became more desperate as they notice that Wencis had stopped thrashing around. 

Frankie leapt up and grabbed Wencis around the waist, the sudden pull worked as the gangly creature lost its grip and Frankie and Wencis landed in a pile at the base of the rope ladder. Seeing an opening, Celtir fired his bow, piercing the creature through the throat. With a wet gurgle it fell to the ground. Bootsy calmly walk over and kicked it in the head a couple of times for good measure.

“He’s still alive,” said Frankie as he stood. Celtir knelt down and poured healing energy into Wencis. He awoke and tried to stand but he was still feeling weak. Grumbling a little to himself, Bootsy pulled out the healing potion he had tucked away, and gave it to Wencis. “This’ll get ya up and going lass ('lad') uh, sorry... lad.”

“I see daylight”, Celtir commented, looking up through the hole. “We could use this to get in and out instead of having to get over that crevasse every time we come and go.” 

“We should scout it out”, said Frankie as he picked up his axe. Celtir nodded, shouldered his bow and started up the ladder. 

After a considerable amount of climbing, they finally reached the top. Celtir climbed out and turned to help Frankie. They found themselves in a wooded area and standing before them was the Statue of the Forgotten King. The statue was slightly weathered but there were no marks or significant blemishes to be seen on it. Before they could even move to look more closely, they heard a low, gurgling growl. 

Looking through the brush they saw a horrendous sight. The abomination looked like it had the body of a dog with a long serpentine neck growing out of the middle of it’s back, at the end of which there was what passed for it’s head, but in truth just appeared to be an oversized maw full of teeth. Green bile filled its mouth as it ran toward them. When it got closer it spit a slimy green ball of acid at Frankie. He tried to dodge, but it splattered onto him. He could feel the acid burning away his skin as it seeped through the cracks in his armor. A look of determination crossed his features and he surveyed his surroundings. Despite his pain a small smile appeared on his face as he got an idea. A wonderful, awful idea. 

Celtir unshouldered his bow and fired at the hound, striking it a glancing blow. The wound was already healing as the hound approached. The creature snapped at Frankie, its teeth sliding over his armor. Frankie dropped his shoulder and bull rushed the hound, trying to drive it back. The creature lashed out again, biting Frankie in the leg as he approached, causing him to stumble and fail in his attempt. Frankie stepped back to try again and Celtir, seeing his intent, did the same. Together they rushed the creature and slammed into it. The hound gnashed its teeth, trying to find an opening to sink its teeth into one of them, but was unsuccessful as they pushed it back. The hound stumbled as two of its legs went into the large hole. It scrambled trying to regain its balance but the dirt fell away and it could not find purchase. With a howl, the hound fell into the two hundred foot deep hole. They heard a few yelps of pain as the doglike creature hit the walls as it fell.

At the bottom, the other two were wondering what was taking so long and were just about to step forward to call up, when they heard the howl and the yelps. A cascade of dirt and rock fell from the hole and they all stepped back. There was a loud meaty thump as the body of the creature slammed into the stony pile of rubble below the hole. As one, they reflexively brought up their arms to try to cover themselves from the spray of blood and gore that splattered the entire room. 

Bringing down his arms, blood and entrails dripping from his hair, Bootsy looked at Wencis, who was also covered in gore. “I’m thinkin’… Yeah, I’m thinkin’ it’s time to head back to town and get cleaned up.” Wencis, despite his reluctance to go along with a suggestion from the gnome, couldn’t help but agree with him.

End of Session 2


----------



## High Cleric

*The Barrow King adventures*

I recall that run with more pain, maybe it was me but I thought I was out of it for a good portion of the night. I promise never to mock hobgoblins again, although I will have arrowheads sharpened for the next game.....
Very well written. Bootsy, in particlular, rubs his hands feverishly all the time LOL.


----------



## Abciximab

High Cleric said:
			
		

> I recall that run with more pain, maybe it was me but I thought I was out of it for a good portion of the night. I promise never to mock hobgoblins again, although I will have arrowheads sharpened for the next game.....
> Very well written. Bootsy, in particlular, rubs his hands feverishly all the time LOL.




Well, these weren't exactly Hobgoblins, so you can continue to mock them if you so choose, unless you mean goblinoid races in general. 
I want to say you were down for a total of 3 rounds, the last round being the non-combat round everyone was trying to save you at -9. 
Bootsy's 2 crits in a row with a crossbow certainly helped bring that combat to an end.


----------



## Peteinmaine

*Bootsy*



			
				Abciximab said:
			
		

> Well, these weren't exactly Hobgoblins, so you can continue to mock them if you so choose, unless you mean goblinoid races in general.
> I want to say you were down for a total of 3 rounds, the last round being the non-combat round everyone was trying to save you at -9.
> Bootsy's 2 crits in a row with a crossbow certainly helped bring that combat to an end.




Ahhh yes, Bootsy in his sorcerous wisdom has chosen to advance even further in the spontaneous arcane arts, and as such was able to learn a new spell, spraying forth a blasting cone of fire when he rubs his burning hands together....Bootsy has also learned how to better hit things that are less than 30 feet away with his crossbow, and purchased a fistful (only ten really bootsy has small fists) of superbly crafted bolts for his favorite toy.


----------



## Abciximab

Peteinmaine said:
			
		

> Ahhh yes, Bootsy in his sorcerous wisdom has chosen to advance even further in the spontaneous arcane arts, and as such was able to learn a new spell, spraying forth a blasting cone of fire when he rubs his burning hands together....Bootsy has also learned how to better hit things that are less than 30 feet away with his crossbow, and purchased a fistful (only ten really bootsy has small fists) of superbly crafted bolts for his favorite toy.




Geat! I'm sure your companions (in their armor, pitted from splashing acid) will be thrilled to hear you've learned a spell with an area of effect!
Bootsy loves his x-bow. ("Magic Missile? Bah, this is worth any two magic missiles!" As he lovingly polishes his heavy crossbow.)


----------



## Peteinmaine

*Bootsy's battlecry*



			
				Abciximab said:
			
		

> Geat! I'm sure your companions (in their armor, pitted from splashing acid) will be thrilled to hear you've learned a spell with an area of effect!
> Bootsy loves his x-bow. ("Magic Missile? Bah, this is worth any two magic missiles!" As he lovingly polishes his heavy crossbow.)





Everyone Duck!!!!!  (picture the lucky charm leprechaun hurling something)


----------



## High Cleric

*Barrow etc*



			
				Peteinmaine said:
			
		

> Everyone Duck!!!!!  (picture the lucky charm leprechaun hurling something)





As the ogre's say, "He's magically delicious!" C'mon, you were asking for that one.


----------



## High Cleric

*Backstory for Celtir*

I had this rolling aorund in my noggin for a day or two...


Softly, the elf made his way through the forest overlooking the burned remains of the cabin. Smoke still drifted upward although no fires were now apparent in the husk of the ruined home. His nose picked up the scent of burned flesh and he stepped from the trees, his bow drawn tight. He saw a few crows waiting patiently in the high pines then his eye was drawn to some movement near the corner of the building. He heard a soft crying and lowered his bow as he strode to the form lying in the ashy mud.
The body appeared human or elven from its size but was crumpled in a heap and shaking. As he reached out to touch the shoulder, it jerked and cried out in a woman’s voice. He whispered soothing words that summoned the power of his god, Solonor, and calmed the woman. Turning her over, he realized there was little he could do for her. A large wound stretched from should to chest, and her life blood was leeching from her even as he watched.
“Gobliss,” she whispered hoarsely, “Mir….”
Her voiced trailed away as she died.
Sighing, he looked around and saw a smaller form, also crumpled and not moving a few feet away. Arrows, crudely designed, but obviously too efficient, protruded from the child’s back.
Gritting his teeth, the elf, a low ranking member of the Hawkeyes, or priests of Solonor, collected the woman and her daughter and covered them with his cloak. The remains of a human male were found hacked apart inside the border of pines, a bloody woodsman axe lay nearby with four goblin carcasses strewn about. At least he took some with him, Celtir thought.
The priest shook his head, and brought the man alongside his wife and child. He proceeded to bury them with a shovel he found in the wreckage of their home. A couple more goblin bodies were inside the cabin. At the edge of the cabin’s clearing, he was just finishing his prayer to the woodland gods when he heard the snarl behind him and a titter accompany it.
His holy symbol, a part of his long bow, had never left his hand. With a fluid motion he swept an arrow from his quiver on the ground, and let fly an arrow. He took a goblin rider high on the forehead and it fell from the back of the wolfish creature it was riding. Celtir suspected it was glancing blow off the helmet but he didn’t wait. Another arrow sped toward the wolf, which was charging him. It took the hit in the shoulder and stumbled as the priest fired a third shot. This hit the wolf in the ribs and it slumped, whining.
“By the Damned Branch, will you die,” he hissed as he released another arrow, ending the beast’s suffering. The crack of branches brought him up and he noticed the goblin rider was running into the forest crying out loud. Answering cries came to Celtir’s ears, too many to be a fair fight. Just the way goblins like it. 
Glancing back at the mounds and hoping they would remain intact, he slipped into the forest, continuing on toward Kingsholm.


----------



## Peteinmaine

*Bootsy's tale*

"No, a giant gnome you say?  I've ne'r heard o' tha likes o' tha'!"  Bootsy answered the barkeep solemnly and with a genuinely interested look on his ruddy face.  He stood on a bar stool finishing his ale and knowing it was time to move further out.  He'd always lived on the outskirts of town, maybe Kingsholm would be the place to settle down you can't get much farther away than that.

"Yeah, I thought the one eyed man had lost it when he told me he came home to find his wife in bed with a six foot tall gnome, who'd then proceeded to shoot out his eye and run away."  The barkeep said.  "Sounds to me like the poor guy must've lost it."

Bootsy nodded his agreement.  The damn blacksmith was persistent normally once he made it out of town the husbands stopped looking.  Oh well it was probably for the best, even with the discount Grand Wizard Enzyte gave him the enlarge potions could be expensive, and eventually the novelty of bedding down with a giant gnome wears thin, she would've gone back to her husband in another few days anyway!!!  Bootsy finished his ale and turned to hop off his stool when their eyes met.

"YOU!!!"  The blacksmith yelled, Bootsy realizing the jig was up hastilly blurted out a summoning spell, however in his drunken state the angry dog he meant to cause a distraction became a screeching monkey.  Still he had to make due with what he had as he hopped onto the bar and ran across it deftly hopping out the open window at the end.

"Get it off my head!!"  The blacksmith could be heard shouting as bootsy ran down the street as fast as his short legs could take him.  Ahead a merchant heading towards Kingsholm was just climbing into the driver's seat of his cart.

"You there!"  Bootsy called out.  "Five gold for a ride to Kingsholm!"  The merchant nodded at the gnome and Bootsy ambled up the wheel and into the back of the cart.  "If the crazy guy with the patch comes this way I'm not here!!"  Bootsy exclaimed as he nestled in between two crates and settled in for the ride.  Behind him the commotion in the bar had drawn a crowd and the angry one-eyed blacksmith was wiping monkey crap out of his hair and stumbling about crying vengeance, the cart pulled away and the merchant snickered as he goaded his horse on out of town, five gold was five gold!

"Hey?" Bootsy asked as the din of town faded away, "how much you getting a bottle for this acid, and how long a ride is it to Kingholm?"


----------



## Abciximab

*Weirds, Lycanthropes and Undead Minions. (Oh my!) Part 1*​
Bootsy – 3rd level Gnome Sorcerer
Celtir – 3rd level Elven Cleric
Frankie – 3rd level Dwarven Barbarian
Wencis – 2nd level Aasimar Incarnate

“More undead!” Celtir cried out, boldly stepping toward the dark pit and presenting his holy symbol.

“Very ing funny,” grumbled Bootsy, as he wearily pulled himself out of the hole. Bootsy and Wencis had done their best to clean up, but there was only so much that could be done without proper facilities. 

Together again, the companions made a quick search of the area, finding a chest with some rather nice armor and, more importantly, a rain barrel, which Bootsy and Wencis put to good use. The others packed up their loot in preparation for the trip back to Kingsholm.

Frankie looked back at the two washing at the barrel, “Now you only look half dead and half drowned.”

“I think half dead and half drowned makes you all dead,” Wencis commented.

Once they reached town, they couldn’t help but notice the villagers quickly pulling their children away and crossing to the opposite side of the street as they made their way back to the Coronet and Cabbage. Upon entering the inn, all conversation stopped and all eyes were upon the companions. 

Bootsy spread his arms, to let the patrons see his blood stained robes and said, “This is what happens when you piss off the gnome.” He then looked to the innkeeper, “Two baths if you would… and is there any chance we could get some clean clothes sent up?” The shocked expression never left the innkeepers face as he slowly nodded.

Celtir chimed in, “You might as well make it four baths. We’ve all had a hard morning.” After they had gone upstairs, the conversation in the common room started up once more with twice the enthusiasm.

The rest of the afternoon was spent getting cleaned and healed. When they all felt presentable again, they finally made their way back to the common room. The crowd seemed even larger then it had been and the companions couldn’t help but feel the looks they were receiving were… expectant. Ignoring the looks and seeing no free tables, the party decided now was a good time to unload some of the goods they had salvaged.

“Could you pick up some masterwork bolts for me crossbow when you go to sell the swag?” asked Bootsy.

“You’re not coming with us?” asked Wencis.

“Nah, got some stuff to do, magic stuff, you would nay understand.”

“Well, don’t cause more damage then we can afford,” Celtir answered.

Small flames were already dancing across Bootsy’s fingers as he started back up the stairs. “Don’t you worry too much lad,” he said to no one in particular, “They haven’t removed the bathwater yet.”

A short time later, the barkeep sniffed the air. “Sara,” he called to one of the serving girls, “Could you check the kitchen? I think the suppers burning.”

----------​
Early the next morning they were ready to strike out once again at the evils infesting the Barrow. Another uneventful trek to the graveyard, a short time climbing down the hole and the companions once again found themselves back in the hexagonal room. The only obvious path was a set of double doors on the western wall. Celtir stepped up and opened the doors. Beyond was a short hall, devoid of any furniture or feature except for two doors on the western wall. Stepping forward once again, Celtir pulled on the northern door. It didn’t budge.

Frankie, flexing his muscles and smiling, stepped up, “Here, let me give it a try.” Once again, the door did not budge. 

Wencis stepped forward, “Having a little trouble?” He gave the door a quick tug, “Let’s try the other one.”

Together, Frankie and Celtir tried one more time to open the northern door but the door still would not open. 

As they were moving to try the southern door, Bootsy ran to the front. “Here, let a real man open this door,” he said as he moved to the northern door. Grabbing the handle, he braced against the wall next to the door with one leg and gave a mighty tug. “Aye, that door ain’t openin’ for no one.” Celtir stepped up to the southern door.

Beyond was a short hall, with a ladder that descended to the south. The corridor seemed to continue to the west at the bottom of the ladder. Once the companions had climbed down, they found themselves standing in a room divided by swiftly running water. Across the water they could see steep stairs that lead up to a balcony and a closed stone door. On either side of the channel there were four statues of soldiers with shields at their feet, swords raised in salute. Two of the statues on the near side had been smashed and near the rubble lay two dead goblinoids. A narrow bridge connected the two sides of the room. Wencis went to investigate the bodies as Celtir checked the rubble of the statues. As Wencis rifled through the belongings, he noticed the blackened and swollen skin of the creatures and interrupted Celtir’s search of the rubble. “What do you make of this?”

Celtir stepped over to the bodies and knelt to inspect them. “Cold. Frostbite and hypothermia I suspect.” 

Looking at the equipment looted from the bodies Frankie noted, “All their stuff seems to be here, even some potions. Either this is the last of them, or their friends left in a hurry.” 

Wencis had stepped back from the bodies, bringing him close to the bridge. All the companions heard a quiet sound, as if something was moving through the water. Looking back at the channel they saw that a serpent of water had risen from the channel near the bridge.

“Well, that’s a little weird,” said Frankie.

“More intruders. Be gone from here defilers or pay the price of your folly as have those before you!” the Serpent commanded. “Go back the way you have come, leave the dead in peace!”

Bootsy was wondering how well fire might work against water creatures and Frankie was reaching for his axe when Celtir stepped forward. “Greetings noble guardian. We are seeking the defilers of this place of rest, so that they may be eliminated and peace can be returned to the dead.”

The serpent, apparently flattered by Celtir’s polite address, rose a little higher from the water for a moment, “Those you seek have gone through the door to the north. Go forth and destroy those who have defiled this place. Good luck on your quest.” With these words the serpent slipped beneath the water once again.

The others watched the scene with shocked expressions. “We’re talkin’ to monsters now are we? What is this world coming to?” Bootsy mumbled as they all started across the bridge. 

Celtir just smiled, “A little diplomacy can go a long way.” 

Bootsy gave a short laugh, “So can a crossbow bolt.”

Beyond the door Celtir found a passage that angled away to the northwest. Four statues stood along the eastern wall before four vaults, a female mage with a staff held high, a dwarf brandishing a symbol of Moradin and two elves, which looked almost identical. One held a bow, the other a rapier and a dagger. Across the hall from the statues, there was a stone door. At the far end of the hall stood another door, two polished black statues of warriors on either side of it, their halberd crossed over the door. As the others moved to inspect the statues along the eastern wall, Wencis moved to the door across from the statues. “Let’s see where this goes,” he said as he pulled it open. Beyond the door, two short sets of stairs led down to the south and appeared to lead to a small room. 

Frankie took the lead and moved cautiously down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs he found himself in a small, clean chamber and the statue of a robed man holding a book open in front of him. There was a flat stone door just before it on the south wall. Behind him he heard Wencis, “It’s always good to check and see if there is anything written in books held by statues.” Frankie thought this sounded reasonable and stepped forward to allow Wencis into the room to inspect the statue. The moment he stepped into the room, a rat-like humanoid that was hidden in a dark corner lashed out with a rapier, piercing Frankie in the arm. Momentarily stunned by this unexpected attack, Frankie was caught off guard by another attack from the creature. He moved his axe to try to knock away the thin blade, but realized too late that this was a ruse to put him out of position to defend from the real strike that pierced his left shoulder. 

Frankie reacted quickly. Seeing the tight quarters here, he turned, grabbed Wencis and pulled him along, back up the stairs to the hall up above. Bootsy, hearing the ruckus on the stairs and footfalls approaching, readied his crossbow. 

Once they reached the top with the creature close behind, Bootsy let fly his bolt which sailed past the creature. Frustrated by his missed shot he started to reload. Celtir’s shot with his bow also went wide of its mark, striking the wall next to the beast. The creature struck again with its rapier, piercing Frankie in the back. Blood seeping from his wounds, Frankie brought his axe around full circle, the blade slicing through the creature’s abdomen almost completely eviscerating it. The shocked creature brought his free hand across his belly in an attempt to hold in his entrails. Bootsy and Celtir again missed with their shots and it was Wencis’ Soul Spark that finally brought the combat to an end. The energy from its attack struck the creature in the head. His blade slipped from his grasp and he fell to the floor. 

As they watched, the rat-like creature’s features began to twist and change before their eyes, until they saw it was a hobgoblin that lay on the floor, dead.

Celtir and Wencis knelt to examine the body. “Were-rat,” said Celtir. “Good thing no one was bitten.” 

Gathering the creature's equipment, Celtir held up a key, “I wonder what this goes to? Better keep it somewhere safe.”

After the body was thoroughly looted, Wencis and Frankie again returned to the small room at the bottom of the stars. Wencis stepped up to check the book. The page seemed to swim before his eyes then clearly read – 

_Two as one can win the day,
The one with two shows the way,
Brave the blade and break the seal,
Twist the knife it will reveal._

“A poem worthy of the great bard E.G. Gygax,” Wencis stated with a smile. Turning to Frankie he asked, “Didn’t one of the elves upstairs have two blades? A dagger and a rapier, right?”

“I think so,” Frankie answered. “I’ll go check.”

As Frankie went back upstairs, Wencis called to him, “If it does, try twisting the dagger.”

Sure enough, one of the Elven twins held two blades. Frankie stepped up to the statue and twisted the dagger. It rotated easily and a grinding sound was heard from the bottom of the stairs. Wencis called up to his companions, “The vault door has opened!”

Frankie came back down as Wencis stepped toward the sarcophagus that was within the vault. “I may need some help with this, these things can be pretty heavy,” he said. Surprisingly, the lid pivoted easily and Wencis peered in. He smiled as he pulled the items from the sarcophagus. Each was an exquisitely crafted item, a finely woven tabard, a masterwork rapier and quiver and a set of leather bracers. There was also a rolled up scroll with the items. 

The others quickly came down and Celtir cast _Detect Magic_. “They are all magical, except the scroll.” Bootsy’s face fell. He had been grinning and reaching for the scroll with high hopes. 

“A non-magical scroll? Whoever heard of such a thing,” he grumbled as he unrolled it. “It’s Draconic,” he said looking at the writing. “_‘We who rest still long to serve. If you seek the same, take our goods and be blessed. If greed moved this stone and not a true heart, may our curse find you ere we awake.’_ Hmm, a little from column A, a little from column B. I wonder where that leaves us.” He looked at the others and shrugged. “I think we technically qualify as ‘The Good Guys.’”

The others nodded their agreement. Celtir put on the tabard and the quiver, Bootsy put on the bracers and, at the suggestion of the others, Frankie took the rapier, though he couldn’t quite comprehend why anyone would wield such a dainty weapon. Celtir reassured him, “It’ll be good to have, you know, just in case your axe is hitting a creature but doesn’t seem to be doing any damage.” Frankie wasn’t sure what Celtir was getting at, but nodded his head and took the blade anyway. “If you really decide you don’t want it, I’ll get it from you later,” Celtir added.

After the new-found equipment was stowed, they moved up to the northern door. Celtir tried the door. “I think it’s stuck. Frankie, give me a hand here.”

“Maybe there’s a secret release or something,” said Wencis stepping forward to examine the area around the door. 

“Maybe it’s locked and the key we found on rat-boy will open it,” said Bootsy.

The others stopped in their tracks. “Um. Yeah, I’d forgotten about that,” Celtir said, his face turning a little red. “Now that you mention it, it does seem to just be locked.”


----------



## Abciximab

*Weirds, Lycanthropes and Undead Minions. (Oh my!) Part 2*​

Unlocking the door and ducking under the halberds, the companions moved on. The open door revealed a hall that seemed to go both east and west a short distance before turning north at each end. Bootsy and Frankie went west while the other two went east. “There’s a ladder going down here,” Bootsy called to the others.

“Same here,” Wencis called back. “There are also some statues of human warriors and a Minotaur standing in front of some looted vaults.”

Bootsy and Frankie went down on one side while Wencis and Celtir went down the other. Wencis was about to join Celtir in examining the statues when he heard muttering coming from down the hall and around the corner to the west. At the same time Bootsy heard it as well, coming from down the hall and around the corner to the east of where they were. “Spellcasting,” he whispered to Frankie, “Or your mothers a gnome.”

“But my mothers a dwarf,” the literal minded Dwarf whispered back.

“That’s what I mean, it’s someone casting a spell,” answered Bootsy. Seeing Frankie’s confused look, Bootsy just shook his head and motioned him forward.

“There it is again,” whispered Celtir, “More casting.”

On both sides, the companions moved slowly down the hall, stopping to listen from time to time. When they reached the end of the hall, Bootsy pulled out one of the bottles from his bandoleer that was loaded with vials. He looked to Frankie with a smile and Frankie knew that Bootsy had one of _those_ ideas. Bootsy poured the oil on the floor at the end of the corridor.

Meanwhile Wencis and Celtir snuck down the short hall at the end of the corridor that joined the eastern passage to the west. A broken door stood to the north, a ladder there descended into darkness. They moved toward an opening in the western part of the wall. Peeking around the corner Celtir saw a room full of animated skeletons. One of them, towering above the rest, was made from the bones of a Minotaur. At the back, behind a fountain carved in the shape of a golden dragon, was a hobgoblin in breastplate armor that had obviously been waiting for someone to come around the corner. The Hobgoblin quickly cast a spell and magical fear filled Celtir’s heart. He turned and ran to the end of the corridor and hid in the corner of the largest vault, cursing all the while.

The four human skeletons ran out and swarmed around Wencis and his Souls Spark in the eastern part of the corridor. His armor deflected most of the attacks as they slashed at him with their boney hands. The Spark, however, was slashed multiple times by the skeletons around it. The two of them lashed back at the skeletons, destroying one of them. Bootsy threw another vial of oil into the corner of the corridor for good measure. 

Frankie finally stepped out, slashing at the large skeleton that was now standing at the entrance to the room, his axe chipping away at the creatures legs. A dog appeared next to him as Bootsy summoned some help. The dog nipped at the feet of the skeletal Minotaur, but was unable to bite the creature. 

The large skeleton slashed at the dog with his claw-like hands. Almost torn completely apart by the skeletal claws, the dog disappeared back to its home plane. Suddenly, a disembodied flail appeared next to Frankie and struck him on his left side.

Bootsy stepped around the corner, a fan of flames leaping from his fingertips, burning at the lower half of the skeleton. The hobgoblin cast another spell, this time Bootsy felt a wave of doom crash over his shoulders, but was able to shrug off the feeling just as quickly. His fingers still smoking, he used just one to gesture back at the hobgoblin.

Wencis and his Soul Spark dropped two more of the skeletons. Celtir, finally able to overcome the magical fear that had compelled him to flee, came running out of the vault, eager to make up for lost time. Stopping by Wencis and his Soul Spark he cast a quick spell, touching himself and others quickly, he explained, “The undead can no longer see us, we can move among them so long as you do not make any contact with them. Let us try to deal directly with the one that has created these abominations.” 

With only Bootsy and Frankie visible to the undead, the last remaining human skeleton started to move back to the other end of the hall. Bootsy moved away from them, being careful not to slip on the oil he had poured all over this area. 

Both skeletons, big and small, lashed at Frankie, their claws digging deep into his flesh. Anger flashing in his eyes, Frankie slashed at the large skeleton again, chipping away at the bone a little more. Bootsy cast, summoning another dog to appear next to the cleric that had moved up to strike at Frankie. Celtir and Wencis wound their way through the remaining undead, taking up positions to strike at the evil cleric. Celtir struck from a distance using his bow, Wencis closed to melee with the hobgoblin. 

The dark flail struck Frankie once more then disappeared. Both skeletons also struck at Frankie, their claws raking over his flesh. Frankie had had quite enough. He raised his great axe above his head, and fell over backwards, unconscious. 

Seeing the human skeleton looking in his direction, Bootsy ran around the corner and readied his spell, eager to spring his oil trap. The skeleton followed him closely, cutting the corner and avoiding the oil. “Son if a bitch!” He exclaimed as he cast forth a sheet of flames, igniting the oil behind the skeleton. “Of all the mindless undead out there, I get the one that cuts corners!” The face full of flames seemed to confuse the skeleton and it stopped where it was, as if momentarily disoriented.

Celtir, Wencis and the Soul Spark unloaded on the evil cleric with everything they had. Unfortunately luck was not with them. Every shot, every swing seemed to miss. Those that landed were mere scratches. The cleric was wearing them down and the skeletal Minotaur had come around the room in an attempt to defend the evil cleric. 

Bootsy finished off his skeletal adversary with a crossbow bolt to the skull, the skeleton crashed to the floor in pieces. Reloading, he came around the corner and fired a bolt into the melee but the shot missed all combatants. The Minotaur skeleton tried to move through the space occupied by Wencis and, realizing something was there, slashed at him. The creature was confounded by not being able to see him directly, but was able to land a single blow. Celtir moved back and poured a potion into Frankie in hopes of bringing him around. Though his bleeding slowed, he did not regain consciousness.

The combined attacks against the evil cleric were finally starting to show. Blood streamed from numerous wounds and he seemed to be weakening. Bootsy drew a bead on him and caught him in the shoulder with a bolt. With the Hobgoblin distracted by the pain, the Soul Spark was able to strike the cleric with its energy attack. Fortune was starting to turn.

Celtir mumbled a prayer to heal more of Frankie’s injuries, finally rousing him. Frankie drank another potion, and then got angry. Really angry. Frothing at the mouth and spitting blood, he ran forward to avenge the injuries he had suffered at the hands of the cleric and his giant undead creature. Venting his rage, his axe sliced deep into the clerics shoulder. The Hobgoblin looked at Frankie in momentary disbelief and then fell to the floor.

All eyes turned toward the undead Minotaur. Bootsy and Celtir launched their missiles, the bolt and arrow both glancing off the bones of the creature. Wencis and the Soul Spark struck it as well, both cracking bones with their attacks. The skeleton slashed at the Spark, ripping away at its essence. The bonds that tied it to this plane broken, it slowly dissipated. Frankie turned, his rage still burning, and struck the skeleton a mighty blow with his axe. The bones crashed to the ground, the Minotaur was finally at peace once more.

The exhausted companions looked around at each other, barely able to believe the long battle was finally over. Looking at the dead cleric, Bootsy simply said, “Well… Let’s see what he’s got.”

----------​
Looking at the piece of paper looted from the cleric, Bootsy said, with more then a little sarcasm, “A draft for 500 gold coins from the temple of the Scourge of Battle. Great, if we ever come across one, we’re rich.”

Collecting up the rest of the equipment from the dead cleric, Celtir cast one of his few remaining spells to see if there was any magic. “His weapon and the potion.” He was just about to suggest returning to the town when he noticed something else. “The fountain.” Everyone looked from him to the fountain, then back to him once more with a confused look on their faces. “It’s magical.”

“Yes, it’s lovely,” said Bootsy. “Can we go now?”

End of Session 3


----------



## Abciximab

Session notes.

I was a little suprised (pleasantly) at the diplomatic solution. We're not a Role Playing heavy group (unless there's humor involved). 

A crit on the Were-Rat by Frankie leaving it with 2 hp (Even after DR) cut that battle short. Ouch.

Boy, that last encounter was a long one. I didn't think it would give them as much trouble as it did. 

Big reason. It was 5 rounds from the time they were detected to the time they looked into the chamber with the Cleric and his Undead minions. 4 whole rounds of raising dead and buffing for Team Evil. Ouch. 

Always a question, do you rush in, or take your time? Some encounters go better one way, some go better the other. You never know.

Even then, I expected the cleric to Destroy the Human Skeletons, but failing his save vs Fear did not help, then he went in a totally different direction (Hide from Undead). 

But they did finally triumph.


----------



## Peteinmaine

*Chapped my hairy mule*

The first potion poured into tha' damn dwarf came from my coffers!  I'll have to speak with the potion maker that weak brew couldna' even git him ohn his feet!  But at least it stopped his bleeding!  It'd been a damn shame if we'd had to drag his body up the rope ladder (maybe we could rig up some kind of derrick with some rope and this pile of angry cow man bones....)  I wonder how far down the ladder into darkness goes, and will we be able to tell by how long it took the hobgoblin body to reach the bottom?  (I think that's a dwarf skill {good thing we got him walking again})


----------



## High Cleric

Bloody Shield of Faith Spell, it was just enough to give a higher AC to the hob cleric. But the night also shows just how chancy it is if the dice rolls are in the cellar. Now where did I put that lucky 20-sided????


----------



## High Cleric

The Cause Fear spell was a real bummer too. Full effect (~4 rounds of cowering). 
But, the DM was right, we're not heavy into the RP yet, I think someone actually said "You have skill points in diplomacy? Wow...." LOL.
SO the real question is, where do we go to find the Temple of the Scourge (begins praying to Solonor)...


----------



## Peteinmaine

*"cause fear"*

N here I thought you ran off, just because the fighter looked like the was goin' down...and not the way that damn torch bearer did with the wretched orc!!


----------



## High Cleric

When the dwarf went down, I wasn't sure if he was intoxicated or not. If he passed out, I wasn't sure a hangover was covered by a  cure light wounds spell


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## Peteinmaine

*sum up*

I think tonights adventure can be summed up by the following copyrighted comic, which I blatantly stole, but give full credit to for being funny.


----------



## Abciximab

*Islands in the Dark*​
Once again, the companions found them selves gathered around a table at the Coronet and Cabbage Inn and were discussing some of the clues they had garnered from the draft they had found on the Hobgoblin cleric.

“So let’s see what we’ve learned so far,” said Celtir. “No one around here knows of any ‘Temple of Hextor’, nor have they heard of the ‘Vanguard’ or this ‘Xernon’ character. In short, we haven’t learned anything.”

“Well, we’ve made some gold from the equipment we’ve looted and Ian gave us 400 gold coins as a reward for the jewelry we returned,” said Wencis. “How’s everyone feeling? Are we ready to return to the barrow?”

“I could use a little healing, but I was thinking we might stop by the fountain and see if it will heal me again this morning,” answered Frankie. “I found it very refreshing yesterday.”

“Yes, though some of us found it more refreshing then others,” Wencis said with a smirk.

Bootsy grumbled something about “Bloody, biased, goody-two-shoes” and left it at that.

A quick check to see that they were all prepared and they were off yet again. 

----------​
A short time later, they found themselves back in the room where the great battle against the evil cleric and his undead minions had taken place. Frankie sampled the water from the fountain and was healed once more. Once they were all ready, they turned to the smashed door in the northern wall where the ladder descended into the darkness beyond. Climbing down, they found themselves in a great natural cavern, standing atop what appeared to be a tall column. Somewhere far below, they could hear the sound of running water. Moving carefully, they found the column to be about fifteen feet in diameter. Frankie and Wencis looked out into the darkness with their dark vision. 

“There’s a rope here tied to a spike, knotted for climbing,” said Frankie who then peered over the edge. “It descends to another column about fifty feet below.” 

Bootsy stepped forward to examine the rope. “It’s spiked at this end,” he said, then gave the rope a sharp tug, “Seems to be firmly attached below as well. Better play it safe though.” He then pulled out a potion and drank it down. Frankie gave him a questioning look. “Levitation. I’ll check it out and let you know.” Stepping out into open air, Bootsy willed himself to slowly descend along the length of the rope, stopping from time to time to give it a tug. The others broke out torches and sun rods, casting them about the chamber to light it up as much as possible.

Bootsy was about forty feet down the rope when a beam lanced down and struck him on his left side. He felt magical drowsiness fill his head, but was able to shrug it off. Simultaneously, another beam lanced into Frankie, and a wave of magical fear washed over him. Unable to stop himself, he ran back up the ladder. Wencis looked to where the beams had come from and saw an odd sight. A three foot long strand of sinew connecting two grotesque eyeballs flew near the eastern wall. He quickly stepped to the edge of the column and launched his hammer of soul energy at the creature, striking it in one of its eyes. The creature seemed stunned for only a moment before it launched two more beams that narrowly missed both Wencis and Bootsy. Bootsy quickly descended the last ten feet and then loaded his crossbow. 

The magic of Wencis’ hammer caused it to reappear in his grasp and he quickly launched it again, barely missing the creature this time. His Soul Spark then flew out and burned the creature with its mystical energy. The eye creature flew north, farther into the chamber trying to put some distance between itself and its attackers and once again fired one of its eye beams at Wencis, missing by a hairs breadth. Bootsy started to cast a summoning spell but Wencis’ next throw was right on target, smashing into the creature yet again. This time the creature fell from the air and they heard it splash into the water far below. Bootsy finished his spell and just let the owl fly around for a short time before it returned to its own plane.

About this time Frankie was coming back down the ladder more then a little shamefaced. “Did I miss the fun?” He asked with a meek smile.

Wencis stepped back from the edge and patted Frankie’s shoulder, “Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m sure there’s plenty more to be had.”

“There’s another rope down here,” called Bootsy as the others started down the rope from the first column. “Not as steep of an incline and not too far to go it would seem.” Willing himself off the ground once again, he pulled himself across the rope and found himself on yet another column about ten feet below the second one. A quick examination led to the discovery of another spiked rope. “Another one,” he called back again as the others continued to follow him, “This one’s been cut at the far end though.” Bootsy waited for Frankie to find his footing and come up next to him, “It would seem that’s the way out of here.”

Across a short gap and about twenty feet lower, they could see a stone ledge with a ladder leading up to another passage. “Well, let’s go check it out,” said Bootsy as he walked away from the edge. 

Frankie gave him a questioning look. Bootsy just smiled, got a running start and launched himself into the air activating the levitation effect as he leapt. The momentum was enough to carry him to a point where he could lower himself down to the last ledge. 

“Bah! I can do better then that,” said Frankie with a smile. He backed up and also launched himself into the air as the others looked on with shocked expressions. Amazingly, even though the other ledge was ten feet away and twenty feet lower, he cleared the distance and landed with only a slight twisting of the ankle, which he barely acknowledged. “All right, so I didn’t quite stick the landing,” he joked.

With the unspoken challenge in the air, the others started to get themselves ready for the leap. Wencis stepped back and ran full tilt for the edge. Just as he was about to launch him self across the gap, his foot caught on the spike that was holding the severed rope and he tumbled over the edge. The others heard a splash and a number of expletives from below. Celtir moved to the edge and looked down at Wencis, who was standing in about a foot of water with only mild injuries. “All right then, who’s got rope?” He asked.

It didn’t take long to rig a rope leading from the column to the ledge using the spikes that were already in place and another rope from the ledge down to the water covered floor of the chamber. While the others were crossing, Frankie and Bootsy climbed down to join Wencis who was examining the area below. They found the depth of the water to be fairly uniform throughout the area. A thorough search by the three of them revealed a large rotted orb-shaped carapace. Bootsy and Frankie moved around it, examining it closely. 

“Looks like an Eye Tyrant,” said Bootsy. “An Ex-eye Tyrant, that is.” Stepping closer, Bootsy reached into the tooth filled jaws and pulled loose a single tooth. “There’s gotta be some use for this,” he said as he tucked the tooth into one of his pouches. “We’re done here I think, nothing more to be found.” 

----------​
After they had all climbed up the ladder they found themselves in a corridor with irregular stone walls. Crude carvings and patterns of what appeared to be runes or writing decorated the rough walls. 

Bootsy moved closer to the wall and after casting a spell, leaned in to examine the markings. “They are magical in nature, though what they are meant to do, I’m unsure.”

Frankie and Wencis had moved down the corridor to see where it might lead. Looking at how the corridor seemed to branch out, Wencis started to get suspicious. “I think we’ve entered a maze,” he said. 

“Oh, I hate mazes,” Frankie said with a grimace. 

Bootsy just smiled and started casting, a dog appeared before him. “Check it out boy!” he said enthusiastically pointing down the hall. The dog gave him a tired look and went off down the hall. Still smiling, Bootsy looked back at his companions, “Smarter then the average dog, you know,” he said while tapping his head with his index finger. “I just wish I could summon more creatures in a day.”

Within fifteen seconds they heard the dog barking and snarling. It had obviously found something. The companions readied themselves for battle and then started down the corridor. Bootsy jumped out from around the corner and called forth a fan of flames that washed over the creature before he even had time to register just what it was that stood before him. A large spider, still smoking from where the spell had singed it, skittered forward, snapping at Bootsy with its fanged mouth. Bootsy ducked beneath the attack and, seeing the poison that dripped from the creature’s fangs, was relieved to see Frankie charge in, his axe chopping into the large spider’s carapace. Ichor oozed from the wound as he pulled the axe back for another strike. Wencis and his Soul Spark struck at the creature as well, causing further injury to the spider.

Bootsy noted that the flames hadn’t caused as much damaged as he had hoped, so he stepped back and fired his crossbow at the creature. The bolt glanced off the creature’s hard exoskeleton and flew off into the darkness beyond. The spider turned its attention to Frankie, biting him in the leg. Frankie grimaced as he felt the poison trying to weaken him, but the sturdy dwarf was able to resist the initial effects. The flurry of attacks that followed finally dispatched the creature and it disappeared in a flash. 

“Ah, it was summoned,” Bootsy declared. “We must be cautious.”

The companions spread out, examining the various exits from this area. Most led to dead ends, though Wencis found one that seemed to continue to the northwest. As the companions moved to join him, they all heard Frankie gasp. Celtir stepped up to check on him, but Frankie waved him off. “It’s the poison, I was unable to continue resisting its effects and it has weakened me.”

“Do you need help?” Celtir asked in a concerned tone. 

Frankie looked at him and answered, “I’m a dwarf! I am weaker then usual, but I am, by no means, weak.”

Celtir just smiled, “Sorry, forgot who I was talking to for a moment there.”

The companions moved on, exploring whatever avenues they came across until they finally reached a stone archway that lead into a small chamber. Entering, they noticed three other darkened archways, their light unable to penetrate beyond. The strange writings and runes covered the walls here as well. 

Bootsy moved to the southern door and stuck his torch through the impenetrable darkness that filled the doorway. The top of the torch disappeared in the darkness, though when he pulled it back out, the torch seemed undamaged. With a shrug, he threw the torch through the doorway and stuck his head into the darkness. The darkness seemed papyrus thin and beyond was another room, lit by the torch he had tossed through. The room was the same size as the first but with only two other exits.

He turned back to his companions. “Gnomish yo-yo?” he asked. 

The others nodded and got out the rope. 

After the rope was firmly tied around his waist and he saw Frankie had a firm grip, Bootsy went through the doorway. Seeing no notable difference in the archways, he picked up the torch and chose to go west. As he stepped toward the western archway two creatures appeared before him in a puff of smoke. Two evil looking wolverines hissed at him. 

Bootsy was fast to react. “Wolverines!” he shouted. Then, using the torch like a club, he brought it down with a “crunch” right onto the skull of the wolverine directly in front of him. Blood ran freely down the creatures face but it was far from finished. Once again it was Frankie who was first to join him, his axe biting deep into the other wolverine. Bootsy was scratched by one of the creatures before he could back away and the other sank its teeth into Frankie. Though both bled freely, neither injury was life threatening. Wencis and Celtir came in close behind. Celtir used his healing prayers to bolster his wounded companions while Wencis and his Soul Spark attacked the wolverine threatening Bootsy. 

Knowing close combat was not his forte, Bootsy stepped back and fired his crossbow. The bolt pierced the creatures hide just above its shoulder. 

The combat between Frankie and the wolverine before him was intense, with both of them growling and spitting, slashing and biting, their demeanors were almost identical. The others thought it best just to stay out of the way and focused their efforts on the other wolverine. This creature was obviously angered as well and seemed to soak up a lot of the damage that was dealt to it by the companions. 

Frankie finally dispatched the wolverine before him and he turned his attention to the other. With a loud battle cry, he swung his axe in an arc over his head and brought it down at the base of the wolverine’s skull. The axes momentum was broken only by the stone floor. 

“Are you sure you’re feelin’ all right?” Bootsy asked Frankie. “You barely chipped that stone.”

----------​
Returning to their routine, they continued to explore the maze. They could tell this area had some strange effect on their decision making. Some rooms they reentered seemed different then they recalled, their thoughts muddled by some strange magical effect. Bootsy tried selecting archways that would lead him to where he thought the “middle” of this maze might be. 

He was just about to head through the northern door of the latest room when two more creatures appeared before him. _Big freakin’ weasels_, he thought to himself. He quickly ran back through the southern door that he had entered through, dropped his torch and readied his crossbow. He wanted to see if the creatures could leave the area into which they were summoned. 

As soon as he saw them coming through the archway, he fired his crossbow and yelled, “Trouble!”

One of the creatures was pierced by the bolt, but they both kept coming. One sank his teeth into Bootsy’s arm and latched on, refusing to let go. Bootsy shook his arm in an effort to break the creatures grip and shouted again, even louder, “TROUBLE!”

No sooner had the words left his mouth then Frankie was there once again, his axe slashing the weasel attached to Bootsy’s arm in two. Wencis and his Soul Spark followed close behind, quickly killing the other weasel. 

Bootsy straightened his robe and checked the rope. “Right… Back at it.” With that, he went through the northern archway.

A short time later, Bootsy finally found something different. He found himself looking at a corridor similar to the ones they had left behind when they entered these strange rooms. A damp scent hung in the air and he thought he could hear running water. He tugged the rope three times and the others quickly joined him. 

Once again they spread out to search the area. The corridor opened up into what appeared to be a natural cavern. Openings pierced the northern and southern walls, allowing ingress and egress from several points. A deep, dark pool filled most of the room, though a rough pebbly floor was visible to the west. Three spires of rock with flat tops jutted from the water. Bootsy moved to inspect the pebble beach as the others looked out over the water at various points to see what they could. _Maybe I’ll find some drift wood shaped like a tiger on this pebble beach_ he thought to himself, and then he froze. “Found something!” he called.

Hearing Bootsy’s call from the beach, they all moved to see what he had found. He was moving carefully along the eastern wall. “There are runes carved into the stone in this area,” he said as he pointed to a roughly ten foot square area of the beach, “Watch where you step.” He stayed as close to the wall as possible until he finally reached the corridor on the far side. The others followed in his footsteps as closely as they could as they crossed to join him. 

They continued down the hall to the north once they all had safely crossed the beach. 

“I feel like we’ve missed something,” said Wencis.

“Aye, and are you thinkin’ that’s a bad thing?” Bootsy asked, “Because I’m thinking it’s for the best.”

The others could not disagree, so they continued on. Around a triangular column, they spotted a yawning pit in the western corner of this area. Carefully looking over the edge, Bootsy saw a young female in a light chain shirt lying at the bottom about thirty feet down. She had auburn hair and fine features. Her ears suggested Elf heritage but her height and build suggest Human ancestry as well. He looked closely and could see she was still breathing. Bootsy turned to his companions, “Rope me up boys, I’m goin’ in.”

“I can not, in good conscience, leave her down there alone with the gnome,” Celtir said and he quickly moved to climb down the rope as well.

By the time he arrived, Bootsy had already poured a healing draught into her mouth. She coughed and sputtered, but regained consciousness. “Easy now,” Celtir said soothingly, “We’re here to help you.” He mumbled a quick prayer and healed most of her remaining injuries. “Who are you and how did you come to be down here?” he asked. 

“My name is Leera,” she answered somewhat hesitantly. “I learned of the expedition to this tomb from Teryl, an associate of mine and he let me have a place in the party. I guess I didn’t know what I was getting into.” 

Celtir saw she had a lute among her equipment. “You’re a Bard?” he asked. 

“Yes.” She answered quietly, apparently still unsure of her benefactors.

“Can you tell us how you came to be in this pit?” Celtir asked.

“Xernon led us around the corner to the east and we went into a wide room beyond. There, we saw two metal statues. There was also a complicated puzzle lock – one Xernon had considerable trouble unraveling. He got angry and ordered the tomb robbers to smash the platform that contained the lock and break through the doors to the north. 

“Unfortunately, when we smashed the puzzle, the chests of the statues spit out small automatons that attacked and the statues mouths spewed out smoky creatures that distracted and nipped at us. Three of us, including Teryl and I, fought back while Xernon and the others smashed through the doors and escaped. When I saw that happen, I ducked back around the corner and fled… Right into this pit it would seem. I don’t remember anything from that point until now.”

“What can you tell us of Xernon?” asked Celtir.

“Xernon isn’t human or elf. I’m sure of that. I don’t know what he is, but something about him makes my skin crawl.” 

“Are you going to stay down there all day?” Frankie interrupted. 

“He’s right,” said Celtir with a smile, “Let’s get you out of here.”

Once they were all back at the top, they readied themselves for the combat that they felt was sure to come in the next room. Leera stayed toward the back while Wencis moved forward to look around the corner. 

The smell of blood and entrails filled this large oddly shaped room. A dead Hobgoblin lay almost directly at his feet and another apparently Human body lay in a pool of blood in the middle of the room. A pile of rubble that may have once been a stone table sat just north of the body. In the north wall hung what remained of two stone doors that had obviously been smashed open. To the southeast and northwest stood two light colored metal statues, there appeared to be dried blood around a small compartment door in the chests of each. 

Wencis motioned for Bootsy to bring Leera forward. “Let’s go honey-lips,” Bootsy said as he grabbed her arm and led her forward. As they came around the corner he felt her slip from his fingers as she screamed. 

“!” Wencis exclaimed. 

She had stepped onto an undetected pit trap and had fallen thirty feet to the bottom, where she lay unconscious once again.

“We’ve got to save her!” Bootsy exclaimed. The others stared at him as this concern for others seemed a little out of character for Bootsy. “Having her around is like having unlimited summoning at our finger tips,” he explained. The others just rolled their eyes and started to go about saving her once again.

----------​
“Is she still breathing?” Celtir asked, once he was down next to her.

“Huh?”

“Breathing. I assume your hand is on her chest to check her breathing.” 

“Oh, Right. Yeah, she’s breathing,” Bootsy finally answered. “Sorry I was a little distracted there for some reason.” 

“Please move so that I might heal her once more.”

“Right. I’ll, uh, I’ll be right over here if you need me.”

----------​
Having healed her once again, everyone climbed up out of the pit and turned to face the room with the statues. Bootsy cast a quick spell to search for magic. “The amulet from the Hobgoblin is magic.” He turned his attention to the other body still in the middle of the room. “All right, do you know what your friend out there had that might be magic?” Bootsy asked Leera. 

For the first time she looked into the room. “That’s Teryl,” she answered sadly. “I don’t know why he thought I would want to be part of this gang of thugs, but even he deserved better then this.” She looked away and paused for a moment to collect her self. “The only magic I knew of that he carried was a wand that fired magical missiles. I think the command word was ‘Sparkus’. I’m not sure what the amulet does, but I can identify it for you. I have a talent for appraising magical items.” She looked to where Bootsy had been standing, only to find that he had already run into the middle of the room and grabbed the wand from Teryl’s body.

Just as he scooped it up, each statue spit from its mouth a small creature that looked like animated smoke with luminous eyes and a humanoid form. The chests of both statues opened and from the southeastern one, a vaguely humanoid creature that looked to be made of stone leapt out, its eyes burning. Each of its four appendages ended with a sharp spike. From the other statue a black, metallic, animal like creature tumbled forth. It ran on four paw-like limbs and had oversized jaws filled with sharp teeth. Both constructs were covered in dry blood and looked as though they had been damaged from an earlier battle.

All four of these creatures converged on Bootsy, flanking him on all sides. The smoke creatures harassed him, making it difficult to dodge the attacks of the other two creatures. The spiked construct pierced Bootsy’s side while the animal like construct grabbed him by the throat, blood spraying from the wound. Bootsy broke free and stumbled back, retreating in the only direction he could and started to cast. One of the smoke creatures lashed at him as he did but missed completely. Finishing his spell, the magical fire burned some of the creatures attacking him. Frankie, Wencis and his Soul Spark all ran forward to help him and the three of them quickly destroyed the animal construct and one of the smoke creatures. 

The spiked construct attacked Bootsy again, injuring him even more, just before Celtir came around to try and heal him. Frankie and the others turned their attention to the spiked construct as Bootsy fell back once more and fired his crossbow, piercing the creature in the head. Had the creature not been a construct, it surely would have been a critical injury. Frankie swung at the spiked construct but his axe glanced off the metal exterior of the creature. Wencis and his Soul Spark destroyed the last smoke creature. 

The spiked creature turned its attention to Frankie, piercing him through his left arm. Bootsy raised the wand, “Sparkus!” He cried and two missiles flew from the wand and struck the construct. The others slashed at the creature as well, causing minor damage. Finally Bootsy activated the wand once more and as the two missile slammed into the creature, it fell apart and crashed to the floor. 

Bootsy sat down hard onto the floor, blood still streaming from numerous wounds. Holding up the wand he smiled, “That was definitely worth it!”

End of Session 4


----------



## Abciximab

Session notes.

First - High Cleric (Celtir) was missing for this session, so you won't see much of him in combat.

Second - Apparently they weren't kidding about bringing their lucky d20's. There were a lot of 20's floating around that night. (I was only able to get 1 crit. Construct vs Bootsy).

We covered more ground then I expected, things went smoothly, including the maze,  I wasn't sure how that would go. I had preprinted 10 20x20 rooms with 2, 3 or 4 exits and made some changes (the impenetrable darkness) so they were never sure what they were getting into until they actually looked. They did fairly well, only choosing the wrong exit twice. (2 of their rooms only had one other exit so that made it a little easier.) 7 rooms and three encounters (counting the spider) and they were through.

Took a picture of the model we used for the "Island" room. Forgot to take one during the process so this is when they finally made it across.


----------



## Abciximab

*Skeletal Remains?*

Just as an aside- 

Does anyone have any thoughts as to what the skeletal remains of a beholder would look like? A big skull with 10 little foramen, one big eye socket and teeth? Guess I should have put more thought into it before they found it...


----------



## High Cleric

*SKull of a beholder*

Beholder's almost look like they have an exoskeleton, simlar to lobsters, with a cavity for the eye and teeth. If you want a real scientific thought, the stalks would require some severe strength to hold up the eyes stalks, which means either a lot of muscle or outward reinforcement (exo). If its an exo, think of finding a dead crab on the beach, brittle and holllowed out.


----------



## High Cleric

But it looks like a I missed one hel of a game!


----------



## Abciximab

High Cleric said:
			
		

> If its an exo, think of finding a dead crab on the beach, brittle and holllowed out.




Hmmm, I like that description a lot more then what I came up with. Now what are the chances of ever having to describe that again...


----------



## High Cleric

There's always 7-9th lvl....


----------



## Peteinmaine

*Can't wait to git out of this hole*

Hopefully I got a good night sleep in this !#@$~ pit!!  Cuz, I can't wait to go ahead and find out what was snorin' down that corridoor!


----------



## Abciximab

*Interludes.*​
The sound of the falling water made it hard to be sure, but he thought he heard sounds from the puzzle room. Should he wake Xernon? Better to be sure. He edged forward and looked around the corner. He saw light at the top of the stairs and heard the sounds of combat from above. So Xernon was right, they were being followed! Moving backed to where Xernon rested, he woke him with a gentle shake and held his finger to his lips to indicate the need for silence. Xernon was confused for a moment, but when he saw his loyal servant pointing toward the stairs, he knew what was going on. 

“Quickly,” Xernon whispered urgently, “Wake only those that are truly loyal to our cause. It is time to move on and rid ourselves of some of this dead weight that holds us back. Being slaughtered in their sleep would serve them right for their foolishness. Jeopardizing the entire mission for a few baubles…”

----------​
“I hear the water too, but I’m sure I hear snoring as well,” whispered Celtir.

“We’re in no shape for another fight,” whispered Bootsy. “They’ll surely have guards, let’s fall back and find somewhere to rest.”

“Perhaps on the islands in the water room,” suggested Wencis.

“Nay, I feel we’ve dodged a bullet in that room and we should not go back,” answered Bootsy. 

“Dodged a what?” Wencis asked.

“Bullet. You know, those lead balls they throw with slings.”

“Ah, right.”

“How about we rest at the bottom of the pit?” Suggested Frankie.

The companions looked at each other and shrugged. They’d slept in worse places.

----------​
Once they had settled in, Celtir turned to face Leera. _Time to get some answers_, he thought. “So, you have met Xernon. You were introduced to him by Teryl? Is that right? Who was this Teryl?”

“Just an associate,” she answered, “He thought we could make some quick coin with this group.”

“What more is there to this?” Celtir pressed. “Tell us your story.”

"I was part of the band of tomb robbers.” She answered in almost a whisper. The companions leaned in as she continued. “A man named Xernon leads them, but a hobgoblin priest of Hextor also has some clout. Xernon is some sort of arcanist - he's also young, intense and without mercy. To be honest, he scares me and I've tried to keep from attracting too much notice until I could escape from his band of cutthroats. He's looking for something deeper in the catacombs and only his personal magnetism has kept the tomb robbers from escaping with the treasure they've found already. He thinks that someone is bound to be pursuing them by now, though and has talked about finding a different exit from the tomb rather than the hole we dug to come in.

"The hobgoblin cleric - Krootad they call him - elected to stay behind and take care of the pursuit. You must have already run across him. He wouldn't shirk when it comes to raising the dead and the possibility of killing decent folk.”

“Who is left in the band?” asked Celtir.

"I think the remaining tomb robbers are nothing more then servants and hirelings, though most seem loyal to Xernon. Minus the ones who fell in the next room, he still has a few Varags, two more Hobgoblin warriors, a Halfling male I think is a sorcerer and a nasty Goblin female. We left several goblinoids and undead behind us, as well as some of Xernon's twisted pets. Many members of our band have died in the run through this place.”

Her expression grew thoughtful as she continued, "Xernon is definitely working for someone, though. I remember Xernon and Krootad quarreling about how to carry out our superior’s wishes, leading me to think that Xernon is either already a member of an organization or about to join one. He certainly knows a lot about the tomb complex, though he appears unsure of what dangers he might face as he explores. It's as if his map - yes, he has one - has no notes or specific details about the area.” 

“You describe Xernon as neither elf nor human. Can you tell us any more of him?” asked Celtir.

An involuntary shiver ran through her as she answered, “He was bald, with bright yellow eyes. He had reptilian scales on his forehead. I don't know what he was”.

“Any indication of where he might be from or going to?” 

“I don't know where he came from, and other then escaping from this tomb once he found whatever he was looking for, I don't know where he was going after.”

“So now what is the plan?” asked Bootsy.

She looked confused for a moment before answering, “His? I don't know. Mine? I just want to get out of this place.”


----------



## Abciximab

*Varags in the Mist*​
“Well, that was uncomfortable, but at least it was uneventful,” Celtir said, while stretching out his stiffened limbs.

The night in the pit had passed without any trouble, each member had taken watch in turn and morning had arrived all too early for some of the tired adventurers. 

“Yeah, sleeping on stone can’t be good for you,” commented Wencis.

“Speak for yourself,” said Frankie with a grin. “It’s really the only way to get a proper nights rest, with the solid earth at your back.” Celtir winced as Frankie thumped him on the back.

Bootsy looked at Wencis and Celtir, “How is it that you two got to sleep on either side of the only female in the group.”

“To protect her from the things that might go ‘bump’ in the night,” Celtir responded, with a pointed look in the gnome’s direction.

Climbing out of the pit, the companions made ready to see what challenges awaited them in the next room.
----------​
Celtir was first to climb onto the stones that had been piled four feet high at the bottom of the stairs. Bootsy quickly clambered up next to him. Beyond was a wide room full of mist and moisture. Directly ahead were three sarcophagi, their lids removed to provide the material to block the doorway. To the west was a wide crack in the floor, near which stood three weathered statues of human warriors leaning on longswords and bearing shields. Straw had been spread on the floor just beyond the fissure. The sound of falling water came from the west. 

Through the mist to the west they could make out three of the hairy, horned Varags hastening to ready their bows. 

Celtir jumped down and quickly moved into the room as Bootsy fired his crossbow, striking one of the Varags in the arm. Frankie and Wencis quickly followed their companions over the low wall and into the room. 

A flurry of arrows was the response from the far side of the room. None of them found their marks and the shafts snapped against the stone statues and the wall.

As Celtir ran to the far side, he felt sharp objects scattered within the straw piercing the souls of his boots but was able to safely make it through without injury. His arrow struck one of the Varags in the leg. Frankie ran up to the closest and slashed the creature with his axe, sorely wounding it. Wencis’ hammer glanced off the creature’s armor but his Soul Spark was able to drop the creature with a blast of energy. 

Celtir mumbled a quick prayer and a morning star appeared and struck at the Varag that was in the back of the room. Bootsy climbed up into the nearest sarcophagus and fired his crossbow. The bolt struck one of the creatures and Wencis was there to finish it with his mystical war hammer. 

The only remaining creature moved quickly. It ran up and slashed Frankie and then moved back near the stream of water that ran from the falls and washed over the stairs to the north. Celtir’s spiritual morning star followed the Varag closely and struck when it could.

Frankie and Wencis closed the distance quickly and each struck their target, though the creature’s skills in battle ensured the injuries were only minor. Celtir fired away with his bow whenever he saw an opening.

Finding itself cornered and apparently unwilling to descend the slippery stairs, the creature grabbed a potion bottle from its belt. Wencis tried to take advantage of this distracting action and struck at the creature while Frankie tried to strike the bottle from its hand, but both attacks failed. The Varag quickly drank the contents and took up his blade with newfound strength. Frankie and Wencis both struck again, this time each struck the creature on opposite sides of its body. The creature’s blade slashed Frankie across the torso. Frankie then winced as he saw a familiar looking vial fly past his shoulder and strike the Varag a glancing blow, splashing acid over Frankie and Wencis as well. The two of them gritted their teeth and vented their anger on the creature before them. 

Sorely wounded, the creature took out another potion but this time Frankie was able to smash the vial out of the creature’s hand. The creature’s anger turned to surprise as two mystical bolts of energy flew between Wencis and Frankie, striking the Varag in the head. The creature finally dropped to the ground. 

Wencis turned to see Bootsy standing behind them, putting away his new wand. “Now why didn’t you go with the wand before, instead of dousing us all with acid?” 

Bootsy looked incredulous. “It only had six charges to start with,” he stated, as if that would explain everything. The others just shook their heads and turned to investigate the room.

*Into the Web*​
Gathering their loot and placing much of it into Bootsy’s new Haversack that he had found near the cots, they turned to the task of descending the water covered stairs. Beyond was a slick ledge, the waterfall on one side of it, a deep pit on the other. Someone had driven spikes into the ledge along the eastern edge and a rope had been threaded through the loops in their tops forming a banister of sorts. After much discussion they decided they needed an additional safety rope, just to be sure. Working together they were able to drag two of the statues to the top of the stairs to act as an anchor. They tied one end of a rope to the statues and the other around Celtir. 

Moving cautiously down the stairs the words “bull rush” kept passing through Celtir's mind for some reason. As he reached the bottom he heard a voice from the waterfall, “So many visitors this day.” A ruggedly handsome man stepped out of the falls, clad in a shirt of shimmering mail. His silvery hair wasn’t wet, but it cascaded over his shoulders in ringlets. A trim beard rounded out his face, accented by a silver chain around his neck shaped like an acorn. Silvered axes hung from his belt and his intense blue eyes focused on Celtir, his jaw set. “Tell me, why came you here?”

Celtir found it challenging to be diplomatic while keeping his balance on a slippery ledge next to a fifty foot pit, but he did his best. “We pursue a band of evil tomb raiders that have infiltrated this place and seek to steal its treasures.”

The man seemed to consider for a moment before answering, “Listen, the ones of whom you speak have preceded you into the tomb, though they will almost certainly be destroyed. The Betrayer is compelled to destroy them, if the foul creature in the next room does not.”

“Who is this betrayer you speak of?” Celtir asked.

“”Why, the one who betrayed the king whose tomb this is,” the man replied, as if this should be common knowledge. 

“What can you tell me of the creature in the next room?”

At this, the man's countenance grew angry, “A large spider has made its home in the next room. It comes and goes as it pleases, I am unable to stop it. It is an abomination and must be destroyed. If you pledge to do this, I shall help you all safely past these falls.”

Celtir, a true representative of the tenets of Solonor, the Elven god of war, did not even hesitate in his reply, “It will be done.”

One by one, the fey water guardian, named Sigur, helped each of the companions across. Leera was last to go and as they neared the middle of the water covered ledge, she leaned in, saying something to him they could not hear. The companions could see him smile, nod and then quickly whisk Leera up to what they could only presume was the top of the waterfall. Only Bootsy expressed any disappointment, “Ah well, no more free identification of magic items.” 

Sigur came over as they made ready to open the door, “I do know this. Weapons touched by virtue can harm the spider most easily.”

“Good to know,” said Bootsy who then turned to his companions. “Anyone here have an aligned weapon or the ability to create one?”

Wencis was the only one to raise his hand.

“Aye, that’s about what I thought. Well, let’s get this over with.”

“Wait a few moments more, I wish to give us all the blessing of Solonor and enchant my weapon,” Celtir said. He then murmured a couple of quick prayers before indicating to Frankie to open the door.

Dust choked the air in this large, open room. Webs covered the walls, but they could see the gleam of their glasslike surfaces in a few clear patches. The webs also blanketed the walls to the south and covered a large statue in the center of the room. It was hard to make out the features but it appeared to be a man sitting on a throne. There was a high balcony to the south. Bootsy stepped to the front, “Right, let’s see if I can clean this place up a little.”

Walking a short distance into the room, he raised his hands to burn away the webs. Just as the spell went off, he noticed movement behind the statue as something shuffled toward him. As he shouted a warning to the others, a swarm of tiny spider boiled forth from the burning webs and swarmed over him. He felt many tiny bites from the creatures but was able to keep his head. “Get the other creature, I’ve got these bastards!” he shouted to his companions. 

Frankie rushed into the room and around the statue, where he saw a horrible sight. It was a human shaped creature wrapped in webs, its skin rippling as if many tiny creatures squirmed inside of it. Undeterred, Frankie ran up to it and promptly cut it in half. As it dropped, its body seemed to lose its shape and it released another mass of swarming red spiders. 

Wencis and his Soul Spark stepped into the room. He threw his hammer at the first swarm, smashing a number of spiders, while Celtir threw a vial of holy water at the swarm to little or no effect. 

Bootsy took a step back to get out of the swarm, then cast forth a fan of flames once again, destroying the first swarm. Wencis worked his way along the room to the south near the balcony, throwing his hammer at the second swarm. Frankie was unable to strike effectively with his axe as the swarm flowed over him. He felt the tiny bites and though he was able to resist the sickening effects of having a swarm of spiders crawl all over him, he felt the poison of the creatures tear at his very soul. As he ran back to stand next to Wencis, he felt cold, as if the darkness of the grave had enveloped his heart, the very spark of his life, within its grasp. 

Celtir worked his way over to confront the swarm, sending forth a beam of energy to burn at the creatures. The spiders swarmed over him, nauseating him as they climbed quickly up his body and over his face, trying to crawl into his mouth and nose. Bootsy, seeing the sputtering flames burning away the webs at Celtir's feet, quickly thought of a solution. In retrospect it may not have been the best solution, but the demands of the battlefield sometimes call for desperate measures.

The flask smashed into Celtir's back, soaking him and the spiders with oil, which was quickly ignited by the flames at his feet. Still retching, Celtir backed away from the swarm, looking for a place to stop, drop and roll... and perhaps throw up a little more.

The swarm moved across the room, covering Frankie once again, though his Dwarven fortitude won out against the effects of the spiders this time. Celtir’s hammer blow and the dieing flames of the remaining oil were enough to disperse the last of the swarm.

Celtir, figuratively and literally still smoldering and smoking, gave Bootsy a tired look as he tried to spit the taste of bile from his mouth, “I don’t think I can bring myself to thank you for that one.”

The companions collected themselves and proceeded to search the downstairs area, though Frankie and Wencis contributed by watching the stairs up to the balcony. All the flames had burned away much of the webs and Bootsy was able to get a good look at the statue. While there was a passing resemblance to the king’s statue on the hill, this mans hands and feet were chained to the throne. Unsure of what this meant, he decided to climb up onto the statues lap. Celtir searched through four sarcophagi in the northeast corner but found them all empty. 

“Well, that spider has to be here somewhere, let’s see if we can flush him out,” Bootsy said with a grin as he pulled out more oil and began lobbing it up onto the balcony. For the fourth vial, he tore a piece of cloth from his bandoleer and stuffed it into the top of the flask as a wick. “Everyone ready?” he asked.

Frankie, noting that the cold feeling had finally left him, nodded grimly and raised his axe. The others indicated their readiness as well as Bootsy checked to see that his crossbow was loaded. Motioning the torch bearer over, he then lit the wick and threw the flask.

The flames spread quickly and almost immediately a large spider appeared at the top of the stairs, pieces of mottled gray chitin flaking off as it moved. The spider didn’t seem to notice as Bootsy’s bolt struck it a glancing blow. Wencis quickly ran up the stairs, striking with his hammer. Bolts and arrows from the others flew up toward the spider, though most seemed ineffective. The spider bit Wencis on the shoulder, causing the same cold feeling that Frankie had experienced earlier. Wencis and his Soul Spark both struck again as the others continued to fire arrows at the large beast. The spider’s fangs tore into Wencis once more and knowing he was close to death, he quickly decided now was the time to retreat. Carefully backing away, he moved as far away from the terrible spider as he could. 

As the spider tried to pursue Wencis, Frankie stepped in to block its advance. He was happier now that he was finally able to strike at it with his axe, a weapon he felt infinitely more comfortable with then the short bow he had been using. Hacking with all his strength, he saw his strikes didn’t cleave as deeply as he thought they should. The tough spider struck back, its fangs piercing Frankie’s armor, but the stout dwarf resisted the effects of the poison. 

Wencis worked his way over toward Celtir, who was busy firing arrow after arrow at the large creature. Bootsy, finally growing weary of seeing his bolts glance off the spider’s hard chitin, took out his wand. The bolts of energy tore into the spider from behind. 

Frankie's incredible fortitude allowed him to hold the line while the others attacked with abandon from a distance. After what seemed like an eternity, the combination of axe, Magic Missiles and arrows finally destroyed the vile creature. 

After the combat had finally ended, Wencis finally was able to get Celtir’s attention. “I could use whatever healing you could spare, my friend.”

“Unfortunately, I have used up my most powerful prayers, but I do have these scrolls I purchased in town,” Celtir answered. Digging out the scrolls, Celtir read from one of them and placed his hand on Wencis.

“Aaahhhrg!” The pain caught Wencis completely off guard as the magic of the healing prayer seemed to burn his flesh. He was so shocked by the pain, he almost struck Celtir in retaliation, until he saw the surprised expression on Celtir’s face as well and knew it was not his doing. “The poison! The cold feeling! Now I see. Hopefully it will wear off as it did for Frankie and you can try to heal me once more.” 

While they waited, Bootsy explored the balcony, finding the corpse of a Hobgoblin, some weapons and a skull that was still wearing some type of phylactery. Placing the loot into a pile he cast Detect Magic. A potion he could not identify and the phylactery were the only things that were magical. Putting the rest into his haversack, he debated what to do with the phylactery. “Wencis, could you check to see if this is evil?” He asked, holding it up. Wencis concentrated for a moment then shook his head. Bootsy shrugged then put it on. Nothing happened. He tried running, jumping, even thinking to see if he felt smarter or wiser. “Hey Frankie, do I look more commanding or physically attractive to you? You know, like I have a greater presence?” 

Frankie just laughed and shook his head, “Crazy Gnome, you’ve been without a woman far too long.”

Shaking his head in frustration Bootsy called the others together to examine the only exit, a door on the balcony that had been almost covered in webs before the oil had burned them away. Wencis, the cold feeling finally having left him, was successfully healed by Celtir while Frankie opened the door.

As they entered the square room beyond, the room lit up. They were able to discern a winding stair to the southeast before the walls seemed to paint themselves with rich images. The magic painting depicted a spring day on a high, green hill, making it seem as if the sun reached this room as well as the green slope. They could almost smell the apple blossoms and awakening flowers. People in fine clothes stood around the hill and it was as if they were among them. Central in the scene was a tall, raven-haired man dressed in shining plate armor, kneeling before a blond man and a red-haired woman, each wearing golden crowns. The image faded and the light diminished but did not go out.

Bootsy quickly put on the phylactery and looked around the room, but was disappointed when nothing more happened. He took it off.

As the companions moved down the stairs, Bootsy was disappointed once more by the absence of a railing and seemed reluctant to walk down the stairs in a normal fashion. 

Reaching the bottom, they saw gleaming doors to the northeast and southwest engraved with fiery grinning skulls. Celtir felt they had some religious significance, though he could not place them. In the southeast corner another stair descended. As they took all this in, the walls seemed to paint themselves with images once again. They saw the same hill as they had in the previous vision, but it was now covered in brown grass and flames were leaping into the sky off in the distance. The dark haired man in shining armor wielded two curved swords and battled howling goblinoids and baying wolves. Beside him stood the blond king armed with a black longsword. Light sparkled on the blade and the kings crowned helm. The red haired woman held her ground behind and between the two, her staff held aloft as lightning struck her foes. The companion’s hair stood on end and their skin tingled as if electricity were really in the air. Then, the image faded and they saw the room as it had been. 

They moved to the door in the northeast and Frankie opened it. Four sarcophagi stood within, two along the south wall and two to the east. The lids showed graven images of trapped people on them, one different person for each lid. It seemed as if each lid was a prison. The imprisoned people were depicted as if they were crying out, their desperate eyes set with rubies. To the north, a huge mirror hung on the wall. 

“Rubies, eh,” said Bootsy. “Too bad. We ain’t in’ with no mirror.”

They closed the door and moved back to the door in the southwest. Within, a musty putrescence pervaded the air. Two statues of warriors here looked stern, even angry as they brandished their spears southward. There were four standing sarcophagi along the southern wall, two sealed ones flanking two others that had been smashed open, their lids lying broken on the ground before them. Each remaining lid had the graven image of a person on it. Again each looked as though they were imprisoned, each face screaming in pain, wide eyes set with rubies.

They heard the sound of steel clearing its sheath and a skeletal figure in full plate stepped out of the eastern coffin with a hiss. Its eyes burned under its helm, “Blood and vengeance,” it whispered.

Then a bloated rotting figure raised its arms and shambled forward from the other open coffin. A gurgling moan escaped from its flabby lips.

Bootsy slammed the door shut. 

Celtir opened it once more and stepped inside, invoking the power of his deity. The creature in full plate hissed and moved to the back of the chamber averting his eyes from the radiant power of Solonor. The bloated creature shuffled his way up the stairs and struck Celtir across the chest. Wencis stepped in next to him and his Soul Spark flew above as they both struck the disgusting creature with solid blows and burning bolts. Bootsy used even more energy from the wand, further wounding the creature. Frankie fired into the room with his bow, but was unable to find his mark. The hideous creature struck back at Wencis, but his thick armor deflected both of the creature’s strong blows. Celtir struck the creature with his morning star and once more, both Wencis and his Soul Spark landed crushing blows, driving the creature to the ground. 

Almost as one, Celtir and Wencis charged the other creature that was cowering in the back of the room. They pounded on it with all their strength, though the creature seemed resistant to their blows. The creature lashed back with its fist, the effects of the turning broken by Celtir’s charge. Frankie also charged in, his axe slashing the creature. Though the creature proved to be tough, soaking up a great amount of damage, it did not stand long against their determined assault.

Bootsy had started prying the rubies out of the sarcophagi before the combat had even ended. When he had all eight he turned to his tired companions. “Right. Let’s go have a chat with the water boy again.”

End of Session 5.


----------



## Abciximab

First, it was pointed out by my players that I had confused Celtir and Wencis at a few points in the Session 4 post. Sorry for any confusion, it should be fixed now.

Session Notes.

I was a little disappointed at the small space the Varags had to work with. It made hit and run tactics almost impossible. 

For a moment we thought Celtir had blown the diplomacy check with Sigur, but thanks to actually having Ranks in that skill he was able to pull it off.

We were all disappointed that Wencis was not killed by Celtir's healing.
Ok, not really, but we did all have a good laugh over it.

Mirrors. What more can I say.

Wencis and his soul spark dropped the plague walker before it could detonate. Darn.
The Huecuva was pretty ineffective in all respects and it’s turn resistance was not enough to resist the power of Solonor. 
.


----------



## High Cleric

Man, its a good thing I didn't give a cure mod wounds spell. That would have been, well...uncomfortable, for Wencis. Luckily, he takes it in stride.


----------



## mundinironhand

It would have been a much more entertaining story had i actually been slain by the party cleric.   oh, well guess i get to keep my character a little longer


----------



## Peteinmaine

*at least...*

until Seth starts playing......


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## mundinironhand

why do you think i want him to be a paladin huh?  its the only way i'm safe


----------



## Abciximab

Bootsy – 4th Level Gnome Sorcerer.
Celtir – 4th Level Elven Cleric.
Frankie – 4th Level Dwarven Barbarian.
Tristan – 3rd Level Human Paladin.
Wencis – 3rd Level Aasimar Incarnate (LA buyoff as per UA).

*Betrayers and Kings    Part 1*​
“With this, I consider my debt to you, for the death of the Tomb Spider, paid in full.” Sigur had agreed to ferry the companions to the top of his water fall and then return them to the tomb once they had restocked their depleted supplies in town. 

“We thank you for all your help in this, it will make things easier for us when we finally confront the tomb robbers,” Celtir said as he clasped hands with the fey. 

With them was Tristan. A human paladin they had met back at the Coronet and Cabbage, who had heard of the companions and their quest to eradicate the evil within the tomb while he was staying at the Inn. Despite what he had heard, he was eager to help and had offered to join their quest. Glad to have an additional sword arm, the companions welcomed him into their ranks.

Turning back to the task at hand, they made their way back to the series of rooms where they had seen the visions of the forgotten king and his retinue. After some debate, they decided to carefully inspect the mirror room. In truth, Bootsy was loath to leave any treasure unpilfered, no matter the risk. 

Opening the door, Celtir averted his eyes, staring only at the floor at his feet. Moving carefully into the room, he approached the first sarcophagus. His first order of business was to pry the gems from the eyes on the face carved into the stone lid. The jeweler in town had mentioned that all the rubies from the sarcophagi in the other room were flawed and it seemed these were of equal quality. After stowing the gems, he spent the next few minutes trying to pry off the lid. Finally, in exasperation, he called for Frankie to come in and help as well. 

Frankie approached, also keeping his eyes on the floor at his feet and finally the two of them together were able to remove the lid. Within was a desiccated corpse, wrapped in a burial shroud. Taking his dagger Celtir carefully cut away the wrappings to inspect what lie beneath. There was nothing but the emaciated corpse.

As they moved to the next sarcophagus to repeat the procedure, Bootsy’s impatience finally won out. Closing his eyes, he carefully made his way down the stairs and over to the third sarcophagus. There, using only his hands to guide him, he went about removing the gems from the lid of the sarcophagus. After a false start, chipping away at the nose for a few moments, he was finally successful. 

He repeated this procedure with the next sarcophagus and finished just as Frankie and Celtir finished inspecting the contents of the second sarcophagus. Believing there was nothing more to be found, they all carefully left the room. 

Once they were safely out in the hall there was a brief discussion concerning the mirror. Finally, his frustration getting the better of him, Bootsy went to the room where they had fought the two undead creatures and collected some stone from the broken sarcophagus lids. Closing his eyes, he asked Frankie to open the door to the mirror room. Facing the general direction of the mirror, his first throw was too high, bouncing off the wall above the mirror. His second throw was spot on, the clang of the stone striking the glass echoed throughout the chamber. 

Bootsy turned to his companions, “That’s how a gnome casts Detect Magic on a mirror. Since I didn’t hear no breakin’ glass, it’s magic and as we all know, contrary to the fairy tales your mum’s told ya’, there’s no such thing as a beneficial magic mirror. Let’s move on.”

As they stepped off the next set of stairs, the room filled with images as had the others. They saw the same hill, covered with snow. Bloodstains clashed with the mud and frost. The blond king had fallen to one knee, his left arm hanging useless by his side. Bestial humanoids surrounded him as he caressed the cheek of the red-haired woman lying mortally wounded before him. Behind the king stood the raven haired knight, his silver armor stained with blood and his eyes wild with triumph, wrath and greed. He held the kings crown aloft with one hand as his curved blade sliced down at the king with the other. As the image faded, the dim light revealed a plain stone door to the east. 

Beyond, a soft light illuminated the corridor from no single point. The north and south wall of the corridor had more of the intricate designs they had seen throughout this part of the tomb. There was no dust, no webs, no sign whatsoever of age or weathering. The passage turned to the north up ahead. 

Curious about the cleanliness of the tomb, Bootsy removed some dirt from a pouch and sprinkled it about the floor before him. The only reaction was from Frankie.

“You carry a pouch full of dirt?” He asked with a look of disbelief.

Bootsy just returned the look, “Are you saying you don’t?”

The others just shook their heads and smiled as they continued on. 

Around the corner, smooth stone stairs descended to the north. The ceiling stayed at the same height as the corridor, despite the decent. At the bottom, purple curtains that glittered with gold tracery covered tall openings to the west and east. On the wall facing the base of the stair was a huge painting that depicted a tall, dark-haired man sitting on an opulent throne. He wore a golden crown and a dark frown.

“The Betrayer,” Bootsy spat. “Or your mothers a gnome.”

“But my…,” Frankie started.

“That’s what I’m sayin’, it’s The Betrayer!”

“Right.”

Wencis moved the western curtain aside. Beyond was a patterned floor and marble walls that gleamed with magical light. They appeared polished and unmarked by age. To the northwest was a statue of a mounted warrior. A narrow passage opened eastward along the north wall.

Tristan opened the curtain to the east. The room was similar, with glossy floors and walls that shone with magical light, only this room was much larger. To the southeast was another statue of a mounted warrior, the horse’s hooves kicking in the air. North of the statue along the eastern wall were two iron coffers. A large dais and jewel encrusted throne were set against the north wall. Bootsy’s eyes locked on the jeweled throne and his jaw dropped. He didn’t really notice that sitting on the throne was a handsome, clean-shaven man with a powerful build, his raven locks spilling from beneath a golden crown onto the pauldrons of his fine plate armor and violet cloak. Sheathed blades leaned on either side of his fine chair. 

The paladin concentrated for a moment. “He’s evil.”

Almost immediately after this announcement, the figure opened its dark eyes and frowned, “Who would disturb the rest of the king?”

Celtir, always the diplomat, stepped forward. “We seek the tomb robbers we have been pursuing, though we have lost their trail. Have you seen them?”

“I have seen no-one,” he answered in a deep voice. He looked Celtir over, top to bottom. “You are an elf. Tell me Elf, what news is there of the lands above?” 

“This region has known only peace for many years now, the bonds of an ancient treaty protecting this land.” 

A look of disgust passed quickly over the man’s face, “And your lands?”

“The Elven lands are mostly peaceful, though we fight occasional humanoid incursions from the wild lands to the north. Who are you?”

The dark knight’s voice grew louder, “I sit here, in this place, on this throne and you dare to ask who I am? I will show you who I am!” 

At this the man leapt to his feet, drew his blades and descended from the dais. As he did, the bejeweled throne faded to a plain stone seat and Bootsy let out a cry of anguish. The man’s hair withdrew under the crown and his skin turned gray and ran, revealing bone and muscles beneath. His armor sagged and corroded, seemingly grafting itself to his distended flesh along with the crown, which lost all luster. His lidless eyes burned with madness.

“How dare you come here and question me!” he howled. “Now you shall share my pain! Knights, to arms!”

The statue of the mounted figure in the corner changed to reveal a lance bearing skeleton warrior atop a skeletal horse. A clatter from the western passage suggested more trouble was on the way.

Charging forward, Frankie confronted The Betrayer, his axe cleaving through the armor that was grafted to his body. The Betrayer struck back, slashing him with his bastard sword and following up with a punch to the face. Frankie’s skin seemed to distend and detach, almost starting to look like he might come to resemble The Betrayer’s withered features. Frankie seemed unconcerned by this and continued his assault. 

Drawing his bow, Celtir drew a bead on The Betrayer. His attention focused on him, he did not see the mounted skeleton charging down on him immediately. At the last moment, he saw the motion out of the corner of his eye and tried to dodge, but the undead creatures lance pierced deep into his side, knocking him back and causing his shot to fly wide of its mark. 

The other knight rode up to Wencis on the other side of the room. Unable to charge with his lance, the skeleton drew a longsword and slashed down at him. Wencis met the blade with his shield and struck back with his mystical hammer, chipping bone from the large beast. Energy from his Soul Spark burned at the creature as well. 

Bootsy cast one of his latest spells. A fiery ray struck the knight that had charged Celtir, hitting it almost exactly dead center, where horse met rider. Tristan charged forth, hoping to finish the undead abomination with his war mace. His mace struck true, sending still-smoking bones flying, but the horse and rider still stood.

The Betrayer and a raging Frankie stood toe to toe. Frankie traded blow for blow time and again with the creature before him. He knew if something didn’t change, he would not be able to outlast the abomination. Glancing up briefly The Betrayer looked to Celtir who stood close to the paladin and shouted “Betrayer!” Celtir felt a wave of magic wash over him, but resisted its effects.

Celtir took a defensive stance and started to cast a spell, but was unable to maintain concentration with the mounted knight and his steed striking at him. 

The other knight was having a hard time piercing Wencis’ heavy armor, though the skeletal mount was able to sink his teeth into his shield arm. Ignoring the welts on his arm, Wencis and his Soul Spark reduced both rider and mount to a big pile of bones. As the bones clattered to the ground, Wencis ran to the east to help with the other skeleton, followed closely by his Soul Spark.

Bootsy got there first. Tristan was a little surprised to see a small unarmored gnome run up and strike at the large skeleton. He was even more surprised to see him land a solid hit, smashing bone from one of the legs of the horse. 

Seeing this skeletal creature surrounded by attackers, the paladin ran to help the dwarf. As he arrived, The Betrayer once again shouted, “Betrayer!” while looking at the dwarf this time. Frankie, unable to control himself, struck the paladin a solid blow. The Betrayer followed this up with two deep strikes, one from his large bastard sword, and the other from a short sword. Frankie fell to the ground bleeding heavily. 

Wencis and his Soul Spark attacked the remaining skeletal knight, the energy of the Soul Spark burning it deeply. Bootsy moved to the side looking for an opening and then cast forth a sheet of flame over the skeleton. All that was left was a pile of smoking bones. 

Concern for Frankie’s life driving his blow, Tristan slammed his war mace down onto The Betrayers head, crushing his skull and driving its armored helm into its cadaverous body. The Betrayer fell to the floor, his evil life finally ended once and for all. 

Moving quickly, the paladin and Celtir converged on Frankie to heal his wounds. 

Wencis moved to the open the coffers and found them filled with coin and jewelry. Bootsy, still devastated by the transformation of the throne from jeweled to plain, moved up to it. Running his hands over it, he ignored the misgivings of the others and climbed into the seat. He shook his head in sorrow and whispered, “Tis naught but stone.”


----------



## Abciximab

*Betrayers and Kings Part 2*​
As the others gathered up what they could, Celtir walked around the large section of stone that occupied the space between the two sides of the room and the corridors. 

Approaching a point on the western side, he heard what sounded like metal striking stone. Moving closer, he inspected the wall, but could find nothing out of the ordinary. Knowing dwarves and their uncanny knowledge of stonework, he called Frankie over. 

Searching diligently, Frankie finally found the outline of a door. Running his hand over its surface until he felt he had just the right spot, he pushed and the door swung open. 

A tight stairway descended to a landing below. Between sharp ringing reports that must have been a metal tool on stone, he heard shouting in a guttural tone. They moved down the stairs as quietly as they could but each step seemed to echo within the stone stairwell.

Finally the narrow stair gave way to a wide room lit by a faint white light. 

Four statues stood within, each apparently ensorcelled to add a lifelike aspect to it. One represented a tall human male with a salt and pepper beard and a symbol of Heironeous emblazoned on his shield. His brown eyes flashed and his brown hair blew in an illusory wind. Another showed a female elf dressed in armor made from overlapping metal leaves. Her tall bow was made of ivory and the green of her cloak seemed to blend into the background of the room. She crouched in a hunter’s stance, peering off into the distance at some unseen target. The red-haired woman from the paintings was depicted in the third statue. Her hair, kept in check by a silver circlet set with a gleaming diamond, fell in waves down her back, over her white and gold robes. In one hand, she held a staff tipped with a dragon’s head. Her other hand stretched out to the statue across the room – a kingly figure. The gold crown on his head nearly blended into his blond, flowing hair. The man’s blue eyes shimmered in the dim light as he stared across the room at the red-haired woman. He held a black longsword point downward in one hand. The other hand was held out, palm upward, toward the statue of the woman.

Beyond the statues, sarcophagi along the southern wall had been wrenched open, their lids cast to one side. Around a corner in the eastern part of the room came the sound of shouting and ringing.

Bootsy checked his crossbow and then held up a fist. Slowly, at about one second intervals, he raised his fingers. One. Two. Three.

He leapt into the chamber with Celtir close at his heels. Around the corner he saw two more thoughtlessly opened sarcophagi. Here also, was a male Hobgoblin in half-plate, his black hair shorn close to his scalp, swinging a pick at the floor. Nearby stood a slight but imposing man in rich violet robes, reptilian scales on his forehead and bald pate, as well as his bright yellow eyes marked him as not quite Human. He had just enough time to look at Bootsy and sputter, “Fools! You’ll ruin everything!” Bootsy let fly with his bolt, but the shot went wide, striking the wall behind Xernon.

Celtir ran to the far side of the room taking cover behind one of the sarcophagi and fired an arrow into the Hobgoblin’s shoulder, eliciting a snarl. Xernon threw what appeared to be a dark stone that landed next to Bootsy. It shattered and a serpent-like creature formed out of the smoke that issued forth. It had a snake-like body and two arms that ended in long claws. Its mouth was full of sharp teeth, two extra long fangs on either side. 

Frankie sliced into it with his great axe almost as soon as it appeared. Bootsy, maneuvering himself to the best position he could find cast forth another sheet of flames, badly burning the creature. Tristan stepped forward, swinging with his mace, but the serpent darted out of the way. 

Wencis and his Soul Spark ran up to the Hobgoblin and both slammed the creature with hammer and soul energy.

Celtir continued to pepper the Hobgoblin with arrows. The creature, finding it self suffering from multiple wounds, drank down a potion that seemed to stop the most significant bleeding. 

Xernon cast and pointed at Wencis, whose heart filled with fear and dread. He started to run back, but stepping close to the paladin, he felt the fear lessen and was able to stand his ground. 

Frankie continued to slash at the serpent, which bled freely from a number of wounds. Bootsy drew his small mace and landed a solid blow as well. Surprised once again by the unarmored gnomes attack, the paladins mace missed its mark. Seeing the paladin’s confused look Wencis called out, “See what we have to deal with? A sorcerer who thinks he’s a warrior.”

A sparkling ray lanced from Xernon’s finger, striking Frankie in the back. His muscles sagged and his great axe felt heavy in his hands. Growing angry, he loosed his battle rage and felt some of his strength return and he slashed the serpent once more, neatly slicing it in half and it dissolved once again into the smoke that had formed it.

Celtir turned his attention to Xernon, grazing him with an arrow.

Everyone else turned their attention to the next creature in line. The Hobgoblin cringed as the companions converged on him and cut him down. 

As he saw the last of his defenders fall, Xernon cursed the companions and cast another spell, this time pointing at Celtir. A yellow arrow streaked from his finger and Celtir felt acid burn his flesh where it hit. Celtir tried to return the favor, casting forth a beam that seemed to fizzle and die as it struck Xernon.

Xernon laughed out loud, “Ha! You fools think you can harm me with magic! Now you will all die by my hand! He pulled out a wand and two balls of energy flew forth and struck Tristan.

Bootsy cracked his knuckles and cast. Xernon saw him casting and with a slight smile he gave a small nod as if to say, “Bring it on.”

The scorching ray struck Xernon right in the chest, burning his robe and causing him to scream in pain and outrage. The paladin stepped forward and slammed Xernon with his war mace, knocking him back against the wall where he slowly slid to the floor. Xernon and his tomb raiders were no more.

Tristan looked about the room. Stepping up to the statue with the symbol of Heironeous, he brought his mace to his chest in salute. In that moment all four of the statues looked upon him. A translucent apparition stepped out of the king’s statue and addressed the companions. 

He smiled warmly and spoke in a strong but somehow distant voice. “Thank you my friends. It is good to see that heroism remains in this world. My time to return is not now, but it may be soon. 

“In my time it was prophesied that my rule would end prematurely, but that I would return to aid the world in its most dire struggle. I sense that time coming, but my bones have been stolen and if they are not recovered, I don’t know if the prophecy can be fulfilled. 

“My name is Theron, but that is no matter, for my time is past. The name you need to know is Sertrous. I heard that scoundrel,” the king gestured toward the body of Xernon, “refer to something called the Vanguard of Sertrous and while I do not know who or what the Vanguard of Sertrous is, I know that it is evil. It must not triumph!

“The villains stole my bones and the weapons of my wife and my champions! Those arms are very powerful and should not be used in the service of evil. Still they did not get this.” 

King Theron reached down into a sarcophagus and through its bottom. When his hand emerged, it held a black longsword that glowed with a silvery light. 

“This weapon, Merthuvial, once helped me save a kingdom. May it aid you in your heroics and serve as thanks from a forgotten king.”

Tristan stepped forward and accepted the sword and saluted the king with the dark blade. Saluting back, the apparition disappeared, as did the lifelike images on the statues. The quiet of stone and death pervaded the area and the light of the blade shone bright. 

Wencis leaned over to Celtir, “How come the new guy gets the good stuff?”

----------​
Assuming Leera had been truthful, there were still two members of the band unaccounted for, a Goblin and a Halfling. The hole in the floor was just big enough for a small creature to squeeze through. A few more hours of work would have to be put in to get it large enough for a human sized creature. Bootsy turned to his companions, “Rope me up.”

Once all was ready, Bootsy stepped to the edge. “Right, let’s try not to advertise our presence here.” 

Tossing his sunrod down through the hole, he clambered after it. Looking down through the hole, the companions saw him standing in the middle of a circle of light as he yelled up, “Hey, toss down the wand that mage was using!”

The companions all smiled and said, almost as one, “So much for stealth.”

It was quickly determined the tunnel went on for quite a ways, much farther then Bootsy was comfortable going on his own. After exploring the tunnel for a couple hundred feet in either direction, he climbed back up. Frankie was the first to take up a pick and start hammering on the stone floor. 

----------​
After about two hours, they finally had a hole big enough for all of them to squeeze through. As they gathered at the bottom of the rope, Frankie looked around. The tunnel was about five feet wide and seven feet tall. The air was damp and the stink of rot hung in the air. 

“Looking at the green beams that were used for supports, I would say this is a new tunnel. It has the look of an exploratory tunnel used for mining, though I don’t see any minerals, metals or gems worth mining for. It was dug, using a combination of magic and muscle. If you look at the arching of the tunnel and the marks in the igneous and sedimentary stones, you can see where they used different methods, each leaving different marks on the stone. The patterns of striations in the stone of this area imply a low likely hood of finding any precious metals…”

“Frankie…”

“…But over here we have some metamorphic rock. Now this stuff forms deep down, under tons of pressure…” 

“Frankie!”

Frankie turned to his companions. “Can you tell us anything we might find meaningful?” Bootsy asked.

“I thought that’s what I was doing.”

“Ok, how about something that is not just meaningful, but also of could be of immediate use…

“But…”

“…And be something that we would all understand,” Bootsy finished.

Frankie frowned. “The tunnel probably reaches the surface about two hundred yards that way and it probably comes out near the side of the hill with the statue on it, but on the side away from town.”

“And the other way?” Bootsy asked.

“It goes down.”

“Right. Let’s see where down goes.”

----------​
After about eight hundred feet, the air started to pulse and there was a scent like that which precedes a storm. Another two hundred feet and the tunnel opened up. The tunnel widened to about twenty feet and the ceiling rose to eight or nine feet. The porch had no far wall, instead opening into a great, echoing hallow. Even from this distance the air seemed to be charged, as if a great storm were imminent. The walls of the opening ascended and descended, moving closer together as they rose into darkness and forming a wider space as they went downward.

Ahead, on the edge of the terrace were two bodies. Actually, as they quickly discovered, it was one body and one statue of a goblin. Not wanting to get too close to the pit, they used a rope to snag the small body and drag it closer. Bootsy noted that much of his equipment stayed behind. Tying the rope around himself and handing the other end to Frankie, he crawled over and quickly grabbed the items, which included a wrinkled piece of paper and then quickly crawled back. 

His eyes lit up as he saw what they were. A masterwork crossbow and a masterwork short spear, both his size. “Celtir, can you tell me if it’s magical?” He asked, holding up the crossbow.

Celtir cast his spell and looked at some of the equipment they had recently collected. A number of them detected as magical, including the crossbow. He also examined the note only to find it was written in a language none of them recognized.

Bootsy was very excited, and then he realized something. “A light crossbow? What kind of pussy uses a light crossbow?” he asked sardonically as he slung it over his shoulder.

“Apparently one just like you,” Frankie answered with a grin.

Bootsy just shook his head. “Let’s see if we can get back to town. Maybe someone there can figure out what this note says.”

“Frankie, could you carry the Halfling back to town for me?” Celtir asked. “And we have to make one other stop along the way.”

The companions started back up the tunnel.

End of Session 6.


----------



## Abciximab

Session Notes. 

Finally, our wayward son has returned. Yes we have reached the very end of the first third of the trilogy and our 5th player finally showed up. His excuse is the one that so many gamers have used from time to time… a woman. For him it’s a reason to miss a game, for the rest of us, it’s one of the reasons we want to get out of the house once every two weeks. (Just kidding Dear.)

So, being fully prepared and using the creativity that comes from a lifetime of gaming, they wrapped up the last two encounters with little difficulty. Ok, the dwarf was dropped at one point at -7, but he was up very quickly. The barbarian actually has one of the worst ACs in the group, so it doesn’t seem quite right to call him a meat shield, more of a damage sink (Like a heat sink, but for stabby things). He sucks up the damage so the others don’t have to.

There will be some administrative/clerical tasks to take care of by e-mail so there may be an interlude at some point.

Not counting our players, I know we have at least one reader (Unless he dropped off). This seems a good place to ask for comments… Anyone?

In any event, it’s into the rabbit hole and on to the second part…


----------



## High Cleric

"In any event, it’s into the rabbit hole and on to the second part…"

I won't trust which pill to take, the red or the black, if Bootsy is holding them out.....

Honestly, it was a good session, and having the paladin there, I think, really helped take some of the edge off the encounters.

The interlude will probably include an interrogation of the corpses by Celtir via Speak with Dead which wil hopefully direct us onto the next path to take. Although, I am itching to see what killed the other two henchmen down in the caves.


----------



## High Cleric

Interlude

The air was thick with the cloying incense. The room in the inn was darkened, lit only by a few candles, despite the late morning sun outside.

Bootsy looked bored holding the brass bowl and muttered to Wencis, “I wish he would hurry up. There was this pudgy farmer’s daughter that walked by…’

At a stern glance from Celtir, the gnome suddenly noticed a dark smudge on his shoes and slopped some holy water on the floor.

‘Don’t drop the water, Boots,’ the aasimar laughed, and then quieted too. 

Neither noticed that elven cleric suppressed a small grin.

Clearing his throat, Celtir called out to his god, Solonor, and asked for divine assistance to speak with the corpses of Xernon, the tomb raider, and his henchman, a Halfling spellcaster. He took the bowl of holy water from Bootsy and traced it over Xernon’s body. The water appeared almost fiery for a moment then faded. Celtir looked to Wencis, holding a censer of incense, and the aasimar waved it dutifully.

 A small moan came out of Xernon’s throat, interrupting Bootsy’s memory of this female goblin that he once came across bathing in some mud, and he started out of his reverie. The corpse of Xernon bucked once on the table and quieted. Celtir sighed.

‘Not enough strength to conquer that one,’ he whispered. Turning to his companions, he asked, ‘Do you remember how some of our spells failed against him?’

‘Not mine!’ the gnome sorcerer giggled, then was elbowed in the ear by Wencis, who was aiming for a rib but forgot Bootsy was a gnome.

Celtir looked over at the halfing corpse and grinned.

‘To the Nine Hells with it!’ he said, ‘The morning’s early…’


----------



## High Cleric

Celtir gathered more incense from his bag, muttering a small pryer under his breaht, and almost absentmindedly grabbed Bootsy as he crept toward the fredom of the hallway.
‘Take this,’ he handed another bowl of holy water to the protesting gnome, and before Wencis could remark, filled the censer with more incense.

‘Halfling,’ Celtir intoned, ‘I command you, in the name of Solonor, the Hunter, and by the forces of Light, to answer these questions.’
Bootsy shook his head. The elf was always too serious. He needed a roll in the hay to loosen him up. He made a mental promise to get a date for his companion, maybe that milkmaid…
The halfling’s body convulsed on the table, a small rill of blood seeped from the cracked lips. 
Celtir’s eyes narrowed and he asked, ‘What direction from Kingsholme are the abductors of the dead king's bones headed, north, east, south, or west? Answer, shade!’
The dead lips parted and a whisper escaped, ‘I was not given this information. Only that we would meet a contact within the Tunnel.’
The elf suspected he heard a thread of complacency from the corpse, and he muttered a prayer to Solonor and the corpse jerked spasmodically.
‘Think he’s ready to...’ Wencis began but stopped when Bootsy kicked him.
‘You don’t want the Halfling to answer that, do you?’ the gnome asked.
Celtir ignored Wencis’s embarrassment and asked his second question.
‘What information were you given about your contact, including his/her name, description, and background?’
The corpse resisted for second then responded, ‘Fadheela is her name, I know nothing more.’ It then exhaled deeply and relaxed, blood flowing more freely from between its lips.
Wencic looked to Bootsy then at Celtir. ‘Fadheela?,’ he asked.
The elf smiled, ‘A name we already know from the note. Not much gained. Although I did enjoy making the wretch twitch a bit…..’


----------



## Abciximab

Bootsy – 4th/1st Level Gnome Sorcerer/Fighter.
Celtir – 5th Level Elven Cleric.
Frankie – 5th Level Dwarven Barbarian.
Tristan – 4th Level Human Paladin.
Wencis – 4th Level Aasimar Incarnate.

*Down the Rabbit Hole*​ 
“Both my parents and grandparents are always going on about how much harder things used to be”, said Celtir as he stood up and took a deep breath of the fresh spring air.

Wencis paused at his examination of the foliage around the entrance to the tunnel they had discovered. “Yeah, mine too. Always going on about how much longer it took to become really skilled in the old days. They always complain about how youth today are so caught up in learning so many different skills and trying to master amazing feats that there isn’t enough time for ‘real adventuring’, whatever that’s supposed to mean. I mean, just because the old man survived some ‘Tomb of Horrors’ as he describes it, doesn’t lessen the meaning of what we’re doing. We’ve worked hard to solve this problem this past week.”

Celtir ran his hand over his chest where a Varag had driven a blade through him, coming within a hairs breadth of ending his life. “You got that right.” 

They were searching the area to see if they could find any trace of anyone having used this entrance recently or any other useful clues. The lack of results had resulted in a little meaningless banter.

Frankie stood from where he had been examining the ground near the stone cap that covered the entrance. “Yes, well fortunately Dwarven skill with stone is unchanged. I would say someone has either gone to great lengths to keep this area undisturbed during mining, or it was dug from the other end. Construction of a mine this big should have a significant impact on the area around the entrance.”

Looking to the trees around the opening Wencis noticed Bootsy leaning over next to one of the larger ones. “What in the Nine Hells is Bootsy doing with that squirrel over there?”

They saw him give the little creature that was chittering away before him a crust of bread before he stood and walked over. “The ground squirrel says he ain’t seen no one around this area and from what he describes, the mine was probably dug this past winter, though he didn’t see what did it.” The others gave Bootsy a skeptical look. “You’d be surprised how much you can learn from a burrowing mammal, they’re everywhere you know. We Gnomes think it’s a trick everyone should learn.”

“Right…. So what’s our next move?” asked Wencis.

Bootsy pointed to the stone covering the tunnel entrance, “Everyone back in the hole.”

----------​
Standing at the edge of the great hollow the companions tried to see what lay beyond and below. They didn’t see any tunnels exiting on the far side and the bottom of the hollow was lost in darkness. Always eager to solve a problem with fire, Bootsy took out a flask of oil. Fashioning a wick out of a piece of cloth soaked in oil and setting it alight he dropped the flask over the edge. “One burning troll… two burning trolls… three burning trolls…” Smash! The bottle hit the bottom and the oil ignited, illuminating the bottom of the hollow in a flash. “About one hundred and fifty feet, I would say.” 

“How much rope do we have?” asked Tristan.

Wencis smiled, “It just so happens, we know where to find a two hundred foot long rope ladder.”

Tristan looked incredulous. “What… how… I… I can’t even imagine the logistical nightmare of fashioning something like that, not to mention carting it around?”

“Yes, well we didn’t make it, but we are the new proud owners,” Bootsy smiled. “Let’s go get it.”

----------​
While the others secured the ladder near the edge of the precipice, Bootsy took some time to study the magical emanations that filled the entire cavern. He had felt magic like this before, “Earth magic. This whole area is saturated with the power of the earth.” 

Frankie looked up from where he had just driven a spike into the stone floor and seemed to bask in the energy around him, then looked to Bootsy and smiled, nodding his agreement.

Moving to the edge, Celtir gave the rope ladder a tug. “Well, let’s see what’s down there.”

At the bottom, they found the hollow’s smooth floor to be roughly circular. The air was alive with energy and thick with the smell of developing lightning. Small holes punctured the walls near the floor, opening into dozens of small tunnels that ran off into lightlessness. Dull dust was thickly heaped around the edges, thickest near the holes. 

Bootsy once again turned his attention to the magical emanations that suffused the air. Celtir could feel it as well. “It’s possible that casting spells here could increase their power,” Bootsy said with a smile. 

Celtir nodded, “The magic here can also be shaped, utilized to transfer us… somewhere else.”

“That’s a little vague,” Wencis said with a frown. “Could you be a little more specific?” 

“It’s happened recently,” said Bootsy trying to focus on reading the residual lines of energy. “Someone has used that magic recently.”

“Can we follow?” asked Frankie.

Bootsy looked around thoughtfully. “Yes. But it will take time to gather the energies, about eight hours, maybe more.”

Celtir nodded his agreement, and then sat down to focus his thoughts. “I’ll do it.”

“Good,” said Bootsy as he sat down and found a comfortable spot to nap, “Wake me when you’re ready.” He started to snore almost immediately.

The others gave the small tunnels a cursory examination, the horrid smell and cramped quarters dissuaded them from exploring more then a few feet. 

----------​
After only about an hour Celtir’s head snapped up. “Wake Bootsy, I hear something coming.”

Rousting Bootsy, the others gathered their equipment and spread out, each looking in different directions. Suddenly a wave of insects appeared. Pouring out of the holes, a carpet of roaches swarmed toward Bootsy. A number of giant roaches, some as large as a big dogs, came with them. 

With them came The Stench. A sickening stench filled the air as the insects skittered into the room. Most of the companions just wrinkled their noses and tried to inhale as little as possible, but Bootsy caught it full force. Sickened by the smell, he had to focus his will power just to keep from vomiting. He found it hard to focus his full attention on the matter at hand.

Despite his condition, Bootsy attacked. A fan of flames leapt from his outstretched hands burning away a large number of the insects. But the swarm kept coming and rolled over him, thousands of tiny insect biting at him as they crawled over his whole body. 

Tristan and Frankie charged toward the two largest Roaches, both hacking deep with their weapons. Celtir cast a spell and a burst of bright light burned at the swarm, catching Bootsy just at the edge of the effect. “Sorry!” Bootsy just waved it off.

Wencis and his ever present Soul Spark smashed one with hammer and soul energy. There was a bright blue spark and the smell of ozone as electricity leapt from his hammer, frying the insect instantly. For a moment he considered naming his soul energy hammer, “The Bug Zapper”, but that thought passed quickly as it didn’t seem a very heroic title. The remaining creatures scuttled up to Celtir and bit at his legs.

Bootsy, enraged beyond reason by the bugs that swarmed all over him, smashed a flask of alchemist fire right at his own feet. The smell of burning insects mixed with The Stench and the swarm broke up, the tiny insects scurrying back into the dark holes that spawned them. Finding him self free of the insects, Bootsy started patting out the flames that were burning away his robes.

Frankie and Tristan kept smashing at the insects in front of them, but the creatures survived the attacks and continued to bite back. Celtir kept up his attacks with his bow, stepping away from the insects each time they closed the gap to attack him. Bootsy drew his crossbow and fired at any moving insect he could get within his sights. Wencis and his Soul Spark leant their support to the others where they could. Finally able to focus their attacks, the companions quickly killed the few remaining insects. 

While Celtir sat down to continue gathering the magical energies of the node, Tristan looked into the holes the insects had crawled out of. “Well, we have some time to kill. How about you tie a rope around me and I see if I can find anything within the small tunnels.”

Wencis laughed, “Kind of like the Gnomish yo-yo, except with a paladin. A paladin yo-yo!”

Tristan found himself giving his companions yet another confused look. “Guess we didn’t tell you about that part of our story,” Wencis said with a smile. The paladin started to worry a little about the sanity of his new companions.

Tristan crawled through each of the cramped tunnels, one at a time, going as far as the rope tied around his waist would let him. Finally his search paid off. Just as he was about to crawl back the way he had come, he found the rock his hand was resting on was actually a skull. Picking it up, he examined it closely in the light shed by Merthuvial. It was definitely humanoid, probably Human or Elven. Sifting around in the dust and grime, he found two desiccated bodies. There was little left, though he was able to scrounge a potion, some coin and a spider figurine carved from black banded red jasper. 

Once he had climbed back out, he showed his companions what he had found. While Bootsy set about identifying the potion, Celtir cast Detect Magic and Wencis cast Detect Evil on the figurine. 

“It’s definitely magic,” said Celtir.

“It’s not evil,” added Wencis.

Tristan held up one of the coins. “Look at this.” The others gathered around as he showed them the face of the coin. On it was the profile of a beautiful Elven woman and a spider. 

“Drow,” Celtir spat, unable to hide his disgust.

----------​
“I’m ready.”

The others looked to Celtir. “Gather around, I expect everyone within the node will go, but we should stay close nonetheless. Especially since we don’t know where we’ll end up.”

As the others gathered around him, Celtir concentrated. The energies of the node gathered around them, making their skin prickle and their hair stand on end. Finally there was a bright flash, then darkness. Then there was a feeling as if they were being pushed through the very earth. Though it was a little disconcerting, they were unharmed. Just as they started to worry that they may be stuck underground forever, there was another flash and they found themselves standing in a crater. It was obviously contained within a larger space, though the rim of the crater kept them from seeing much of their surroundings. 

Carefully, the companions climbed up the wall of the crater to see where the magic of the node had sent them. 

Beyond, they found a wide underdark vista lit by a pale light that shone through enormous columns that marched into the misted distance. The benighted waters of a sunless sea met a pebble strewn shore a half-mile or so away. Across that dark water, a city glimmered around the base of the nearest column. 

A cobbled road, which emerged from an opening in a dimly glowing cavern wall about a quarter mile to their left, passed within ten feet of the crater and continued on to the right. It finally connected to a narrow but elongated stone formation that spanned the shadowy sea and reached more than a mile to the city.

Just across the road from the crater, a strange covered wagon sat. A broad dusky dwarf, bald, with a white beard, stood in front of it, smiling. He wore a thick leather coat and gloves that had gold piping. Two large gray lizards stood idly nearby.

The grinning Dwarf called out in a deep baritone in perfect Common, “Node travelers and unless I miss my mark, surfacers too! I am Bruthwol Coalhauler, humble merchant! Perhaps you would like to see my wares?”

Wordlessly the others looked to the paladin with the unspoken question, “Evil?” He gave a small shake of his head indicating he could sense no evil. 

Celtir stepped forward. “Greetings. Could you tell us where we are exactly?”

Bruthwol spread his arms and answered, “Welcome to the Great Grotto! Once a major center of trade, it has been relegated to a backwater by disease and war. Brigands ne’er do wells and refugees from this or that underdark power inhabit the fallen Drow city of Pedestal. See it there surrounding that first column beyond the Sullen Sea? Never will you find a more wretched hive of…”

“Yes, yes,” Bootsy interrupted, “It’s a terrible place, I’m sure. What brings you to this area?”

The friendly smile never left Bruthwol’s face as he answered, “Well even lowlife’s need trade to sustain them. Thus I also call pedestal my home.”

“Have you seen anyone else come through recently?” asked Wencis.

Bruthwol looked thoughtful for a moment, “Well, I have been camped here a few days. Not too long ago, a cloaked figure, a female humanoid by the shape, though I couldn’t discern much else, emerged from this very node. She ignored my greetings and stalked off toward the Oceanbridge. Is she a friend of yours?”

Celtir was careful in his answer, still not sure if he could trust this Dwarf. “No, but we would like to speak with her. Who would we talk to if we needed some questions answered?”

“Well, I’ll answer what I can, but if you have hard questions, or seek someone,” Bruthwol said with a knowing look, “Es Sarch is the one to talk to. You can find him at the Dripstone Inn on the street of the Five Hanged, directly north three blocks from Pedestal’s southern gate. He knows everything about the city, though he’s sure to want something in return for his help.”

“What can you tell us of Pedestal? Would surfacers be welcome there?”

Bruthwol laughed, “No more or less then anyone else. Keep to yourselves, don’t let anyone push you around and you have as good a chance of surviving to see tomorrow as the next guy. But then again, if you’re still alive then the next guy is probably dead. Listen, Pedestal has no central power. Several groups claim sovereignty, but during bad weeks, the city is little better than a war zone. Good weeks are merely lawless. Anarchy rose in the collapse of the Drow hierarchy. A terrible plague ten years ago wiped nearly all of them out. 

“The three top powers are the Inheritors, House Dusklorne and the Assassins Guild…

Bootsy stepped forward and interrupted, “You got any acid in there? Or maybe some oil?”

Bruthwol’s smile grew even wider, “I sure do, step right this way, all my goods are in my wagon.”

“How about a map?” Wencis asked.

“Why sure, I’ll give you a free map of Pedestal with any purchase over ten gold.”

After a short discussion the companions purchased some basic equipment, even giving the gregarious Dwarf a small tip and made ready to head off to Pedestal. As they walked away, Bruthwol called after them, “Be careful crossing the Oceanbridge, wild Kuo-toa and worse swim in the sea’s murky waters. Sometimes travelers who start at one end of the bridge fail to arrive at the other. In fact, part of the bridge has been damaged for a while now. Good luck! If you spend any time in Pedestal, look me up at the Bazaar on East Row. I keep a stall there and should be there within a few days time.”

The companions smiled, waved and kept on walking. “That seemed a little strange,” muttered Wencis.


----------



## Abciximab

*Across the Ocean*​
Wencis looked around him. He stood on the span of massive stone blocks that was the Oceanbridge. The ominous waters of the Sullen Sea were on either side of him at this point. Out across the water he saw a lone isle protruding above the glassy water a half mile or more away, faintly glowing with blue light from a source he could not see. Ahead, a few of the stone blocks were cracked and sat askew. A navigable path yet existed where the corners of the stones came close together. They had seen sections of the bridge had suffered minor erosion but this section seemed to have sustained damage. 

Tristan examined the crossing. “I don’t like the looks of it. It’s bad enough having water on both sides of us, now we’ll have it pretty much on all sides as we cross this section. I’ll go first, the rest of you be ready for an ambush.”

Bootsy loaded his crossbow, “We always expect an ambush.”

Sure enough, no sooner had Tristan stepped out onto the first block when the surface of the water rippled and the air grew foul with the stench of rotting fish. Four humanoids hauled themselves from the depths, covered in slimy, bulbous flesh and vestigial fins. Their gaping maws were filled with rows of sharp teeth. Even more horrific, an alien form of writhing tentacles, fishy scales and glowing malevolent eyes rose to the surface about twenty feet from the bridge. 

Bootsy’s bolt plunked into the water next to the huge aberration. Frankie, Tristan and Wencis all confronted the humanoid creatures, each causing significant injury to the scum. The Soul Spark’s attack killed the one Wencis had wounded. Frankie then felt someone trying to infiltrate his mind, but through force of will was able to resist the intrusion. The humanoid creatures slashed at the heroes but most of the creatures strikes were turned aside by their armor.

Celtir fired an arrow at the disgusting fish, his arrow appeared to strike true, but he saw it seemingly pass through the creature and splash into the water. If he hadn’t been paying close attention he could see it would have been easy to miss, but now, having seen what happened, he knew the truth. “The huge fish thing is just an illusion!”

A sense of dread fell over the companions as this news sank in. Somewhere around here was an attacker they could not see. 

Another round of attacks from Frankie, Tristan, Wencis and his Soul Spark left only two of the creatures standing and those creatures were seriously wounded. Bootsy and Celtir fired at the creatures and one more fell back into the water. 

A final strike by Frankie dropped the last one, the companions turned to see what could be done about the fish. 

“Run?” suggested Celtir.

“Probably a good idea,” said Bootsy. 

As Frankie turned to leave, Tristan struck at the dwarf with Merthuvial. “What in the abyss are you doing!?” Frankie yelled.

“! I bet that fish thing is in his head!” cried Bootsy, as he fired off a spell hoping to daze the paladin. Unsure of what else to do, Celtir fired a spell that burst in a flash of light over the water, hoping to get lucky and hit an invisible creature. 

Tristan, with a glazed look in his eyes, slashed the Dwarf again. By this time Frankie was bleeding heavily. He backed away from the paladin and Wencis stepped forward to try to defend him. Before he could get between the Dwarf and the paladin, a twisting pattern of subtle, shifting colors filled the air. Frankie was fascinated by the display and stopped moving to admire the colors. Wencis resisted the effects and moved to slap Frankie. Before he could get there Tristan approached and stabbed Frankie yet again, awakening him from his stupor. Bootsy charged past in the opposite direction, drawing an attack from the paladin that left him sorely wounded. 

“We’ve got to put him down!” yelled Bootsy as he launched a barrage of Magic Missiles at the paladin. The companions focused all their attention on him. A rain of blows and attacks pummeled Tristan from all sides. Finally, Frankie caught him right under the jaw with a massive uppercut with the head of his axe, lifting him right off the ground and knocking him onto his back. Tristan did not get up. 

Bootsy felt the mental intrusion of the fish inside his mind, “ you!” He yelled as he fired a crossbow bolt into the illusory fish. Grabbing their unconscious companion, the heroes moved as quickly as they could away from the area. Behind them the image of the huge fish creature blinked out.

----------​
“Well, at least we shouldn’t have any trouble getting into Pedestal,” Bootsy said with a smile.

The companions had made it across the rest of the bridge without incident. They had not revived Tristan, just in case the fish creature could still impose his will over the paladin.

“What do you mean?” asked Celtir.

Bootsy pointed back to where Frankie and Wencis were dragging the paladin along. “I would think it would be pretty easy to gain entry to an evil city while dragging the body of a paladin. Come to think of it, we may be able to earn a little coin. Come one, come all! Hit the mighty paladin with a stick! Find out if they really do have candy inside!”

The others just shook their heads. 

Celtir took out a healing wand, “Look, we don’t know whether or not we can enter without being accosted and we might need the extra sword. I think we’re far enough away that we can risk waking him.”

“All right, but we’re taking his weapons and hog-tying him just in case. I’m not letting him use me to practice his swordsmanship again,” said Frankie.

Once the paladin was healed and it was clear he was thinking for himself, the companions untied him. “Sorry friends, I tried to resist, but the creatures will was too strong.”

Bootsy just smiled. “That’s all right. We enjoyed beating the  out of you.”

They were finally in a spot where they could get a good look at Pedestal. The wide sloping base of a massive column was built up with streets, walls and hundreds of elaborate structures. A few glimmered with faint illumination and here and there, lanterns shed green illumination in small pools separated by gulfs of shadow. Portions of the small city were completely collapsed and obviously abandoned, though others showed clear signs of habitation and upkeep. A great wall surrounded the lowest edges of the city and upon that edifice, hundreds of rusty spikes pointed toward the cavern’s high ceiling. Rotting heads adorned scores of the spikes.

Up ahead, dark stones sagged over an open gatehouse. The gaping arch revealed a rubble-strewn roadway, a low barricade of piled debris and an ominous cityscape beyond, where shadowed buildings leaned above sloping cobbled lanes illuminated by green light from glowing lanterns. 

“This must be the South Gate,” observed Wencis.

Bootsy shook his head, “How in the Nine Hells does Bruthwol get his wagon in over these piles of rubble? For that matter how does he get his wagon across the Oceanbridge in the condition it’s in?”

Celtir started toward the entryway, “If we see him again, you can ask him.”

The companions hadn’t taken three steps when a gray, pudgy humanoid that had willowy limbs and flipper-like hands and feet bounds from the shadows, its fishlike head sported bulbous eyes. It carried a spear and a large shield and the smell of rotting fish hung in the air around it. With a gurgling snarl it leapt to attack. 

It gurgled once again as Bootsy’s bolt pierced his shoulder. It stopped gurgling completely when Frankie’s axe almost bisected the creature. Two more of them emerged from the darkness of the open gatehouse. Wencis and his Soul spark charged forward dropping one of the creatures as Celtir’s arrow pierced the other in the chest. Two more of the creatures behind a low stone wall toward the back of the gatehouse launched javelins but missed their intended targets. Using organized offensive tactics, the companions rapidly mowed through the remaining creatures. 

----------​
Lights of every hue streamed from the windows of the sprawling three-story building. Conversing voices, snippets of song and the clatter of crockery spilled into the street. Odors of exotic tobaccos, yeasty drink and barbecued meat suffused the air. The wall facing the street was a sculpted formation of flowstone, like dozens of drooping hands, apparently built up from water that had fallen from somewhere high above. Here and there, stone faces leered out from the depths.

“This has got to be the place,” said Wencis. They had passed few other creatures on the way here. Those creatures had either ignored them or avoided them completely by turning down side streets and disappearing into the darkness.

As they entered the Dripstone Inn, conversations dropped as the patrons gave the companions the once over. Few of the faces seemed welcoming and those that did seemed hungry or insane. Dusky Dwarves, wild eyed Derro, slim Drow and stranger creatures sat around the room in lantern lit niches scattered about the large, high ceilinged chamber. A central bar was stuffed with bottles, casks, pipes, vials, cigarillos and less familiar paraphernalia. Cloaked in white linen, a humanoid figure stood behind the bar. A number of servers moved about the room, similarly shrouded. A side door apparently opened into a busy kitchen that was alive with the sounds and scents of cooking. From a great stone chair across the common room, a humanoid figure observed, wrapped in and hooded by a crimson robe that had a complex pattern of eyes on it. Whatever this creature was, the companions felt that little escaped its notice. 

Once again the companions looked to the paladin with that unasked question.

Tristan gave his companions an incredulous look and whispered, “Are you kidding me? I fear that if I try that here my eyes will start to bleed. I think it best we leave that question unanswered and run with the assumption that everyone is. Let us just be cautious.”

As conversations around the room resumed, one of the servers motioned the companions over to an empty table. 

Before they could ask any questions, the server placed a single menu on the table that listed the prices for common goods and services. 

“Who would we talk to, to arrange accommodations for the night?” asked Celtir.

“And what does ‘Other Services May Be Available upon Request’ Mean?” Bootsy asked with a mischievous grin.

In response, the silent figure just pointed to the bar. 

Bootsy handed the creature some coin, “Here’s 15 gold to start a tab.”

Wencis looked at the menu doubtfully, “Do I want to know what a ‘Blood Jelly’ is?” 

Celtir stood, “You guys order dinner while I go arrange the rooms.”

Having arranged for the companions to occupy almost the entire second floor of the Inn, Celtir returned. After eating a quick dinner of carefully selected items, he motioned one of the servers over. “If I had some questions I needed answered, who would I talk to?” He asked, already suspecting the answer. The creature pointed to the figure seated in the stone chair. Before he could even ask about how to get an appointment, he saw the figure motion him over.

As Celtir approached he tried to get a good look at the figures face, but it was lost in the voluminous fold of his robe. He had a sneaking suspicion that Es Sarch and his minions were all undead though he could not place the type. An odor like thyme mixed with dirt assaulted his nostrils as the figure raised his arm in greeting and spoke with a raspy voice. 

“Travelers from the sun-poisoned skin of the world, welcome. I am Es Sarch. I deal in information. Thus I know many truths, but not the one that brings you to this fallen city.”

Celtir was little confused by his manner of speaking. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you know why we’re here?”

Es Sarch’s head tilted slightly, and then he responded slowly and deliberately as if talking to a child, “No. I just said I don’t know why you are here.”

A little embarrassed, Celtir felt the need to apologize again, “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be direct. We’re used to everything being overly cryptic.” 

A brief, repeating hissing sound escaped from Es Sarch’s hood. Celtir assumed he was laughing. “We seek a woman…”

At this point, Bootsy called from across the room only to be interrupted by Wencis elbowing him in the ribs, “Actually two, if you have an extra! Ooof!”

Celtir continued, “Um… A woman named Fadheela. Have you heard of her?”

Es Sarch appeared to think for a moment before answering, “Yes I know her. A high ranking individual with the Assassins Guild I believe, a dangerous woman to be sure.”

“So, is she a Drow?” 

“No… To be honest I am not sure what she is, though I suspect she’s a Medusa.”

“We have reason to believe she’s associated with a group calling them selves the Vanguard of Sertrous. Do you know anything of this organization?”

Es Sarch paused once again before answering. “I know something of what you speak, but to learn more, I will have to expend resources. Thus I propose an alliance. Aid me with a few tasks I’d prefer to be accomplished by those outside Pedestal’s power structure. Upon completion of these tasks, I’ll know more of Fadheela. In your debt for your favors to me, I will deliver that information to you. What say you?”

Celtir thought for a moment. “Can you give us some time to consider? My companions and I will have to discuss this privately. Can you give us until… say… tomorrow?”

Es Sarch gave a gracious nod, “Take what time you will. The offer shall remain open.”

Celtir nodded back, “Thank you for your time.”

As he sat back down at the table, he paused as he looked at the plate that was set before him. 

Bootsy grinned, “We ordered you some Sweetmeat. We thought it would be a confectionary, but apparently around here it’s just a fancy name for pickled brains. Eat up, we don’t want to appear rude.”

End of Session 7


----------



## Abciximab

Session Notes.

Let me just start off by saying, we’ve got a great group. This story hour doesn’t even come close to the amount of humor at the table, though some of it could not be repeated here in any event.

Highlight – Charmed Paladin- Hilarity Ensues. 
I wasn’t sure how it would go and was relieved when Frankie made his save. Then the Paladin didn’t. Luckily, there’s nothing quite like the opportunity to wail away on your fellow party mates. 
First off, I don’t think I ever saw the Paladin hit so many times in a row. 
Secondly, the Paladin, in one round goes from almost full hit points, to four. Then the Barbarian Crits him. 
Then come all the jokes about what you can do to earn money in an evil city while in possession of an unconscious Paladin.


----------



## Peteinmaine

*ouch*

I seem to remember the paladin hitting me four or five times....Were I just a normal sorceror I likely would've died I'm sure.....

-Bootsy


----------



## Abciximab

Yeah, I think he got you 3 times, 2 attack of opportunity and 1 other time. Hard to get it to flow sometimes. I do take a little poetic license so it reads a little better. True round by round retelling would get rather boring. Especially if what is happening is repetitive. He swings, and then you swing. But I try to keep the general elements of what happened in there.

It would also add to the page count...


----------



## High Cleric

You're forgetting all about the Secretary segment of the show LOL.

But yep, that aboleth was a real pain in the hind end, made you really want to hit the kuo toans that much harder    

So, boys, we want to negotiate with Es Sarch???


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## Peteinmaine

*Questionable morals*

As for our dealings with captain boney, we're hardly in the right place to go quibbling about with no direction.  I say we see what the dead guy on the throne (not Elvis) wants us to do and at the very least keep busy and occupied while we learn our way around this shadowy toilet by the pond.....
-love always Bootsy (DAMMIT I WILL not BE left out of 4E!!!!)


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## NarlethDrider

i've enjoyed what i've read so far, looking forward to more

can we get descriptions of the pcs?


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## Abciximab

NarlethDrider said:
			
		

> i've enjoyed what i've read so far, looking forward to more
> 
> can we get descriptions of the pcs?




Well, let's see. Bootsy is short with a permanent mischievous look on his face...

Ah, but that's not what you meant is it... 3 out of 5 of the players are on here, maybe I can con them into posting something. But here's a behind the scenes look at character creation.

Here's a portion of the player handout concerning character creation.



> Character Creation Guidelines
> 
> Creation: 4d6, drop lowest, arrange in any order.
> HP: Max HP at each level.
> Levels: 2nd level characters or 1st level characters with a +1 LA are allowed. (Everyone starts with 1,000xps)
> Starting Gold: As per PHB (1st level).
> Classes and Races: Just about anything that meets the above requirements. Play what you want, but please know your abilities and have books on hand if necessary




The big  mistake... I gave them way too much time to create their uber characters. They each showed up with 2-4 characters and decided last minute who to use. This led to some rather powerful charcters. Next time, 32 point buy! 

Actually, since we get together every two weeks and only play for 2.5 hours I like having characters with a high chance of survival. It means we can keep things moving without worrying too much about player death. (Though I have managed to drop them each at least once… Except Bootsy and Tristan… Hmmm…) I’ll kill ‘em all if the dice roll that way though.

As another side note we've switched to Pathfinder method of turning undead (Positive energy burst). We'll see how it goes. I like the changes I've seen with Pathfinder.


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## Peteinmaine

*Bootsy*



			
				NarlethDrider said:
			
		

> i've enjoyed what i've read so far, looking forward to more
> 
> can we get descriptions of the pcs?




As someone who normally plays a straight fighter, I'm playing a gnome sorceror.  My stats as hinted to by the DM were abnormally well rolled.  However I attribute this to the fact that I made 20 commoners in between each actual character that I made to stock my next campaign city.

Bootsy is a gnome of ill repute, while good at heart, his eye for mischief is often turned blind to the possibility of residual damage.  Bootsy prides himself on one-upmanship and although he is perfectly content to take his lumps and go down fighting he will relish the opportunity to get a good one in that he shouldn't be entitled to. (Getting the spell off on the creature with SR, any of the numerous crits with the crossbow, Wading into melee with a mace as a small character.)

Bootsy didn't take magic missile until fifth level, he regularly omits loot from the list of party treasure, but tends to make it rematerialize when needed.  He's a quintessential explorer, eager to round the next corner, always willing to scout out a potentially dangerous area (usually tied to the rest of the party with a rope gnomish yo-yo)

Thus far Bootsy has demonstrated an unusually lucky streak that hopefully will continue to serve him well.  (having an 18 con as a gnome giving him 8hp per level has also been useful from time to time)

Bootsy has taunted more ememies than the rest of the party combined.


----------



## High Cleric

I'll post the PC template later for my cleric, but I think of Celtir as the Abbot to Bootsy's Costello, the straight man (elf) with a grim sense of humor (although neutral good, we would laugh his hind end off at an evil celric getting torn apart by his own undead!). 
He probably has repressed anger too, I haven't explored that yet LOL...
But he seems to be labelled as the party's diplomat, whether he's using a skill check or a sharp arrow to get his across his arguments. I haven't written a history yet but picture his community living with the new threat of invasion, and rather than waiting to get ambushed at home, takes the fight to the enemy,

Although only a cleric, he thinks of himself as a back door fighter with a bow, and prefers to use combat orientated spells, as his deity is one of the elven gods of war. Of course, this can be frustrating when he arrives at the battle from the end of the line, only to find Bootsy Frankie, and now Tristan polishing off the enemies...
So, he's resigned to cleaning and patching up everyone aftern a good swatting, as long as he gets some loot out of the bargain and a chance to waste a couple of drow now and then.


----------



## Abciximab

*Rikaryon’s Isle*​
“So, what have you decided?”

The companions had passed an uneventful night at the Dripstone Inn and now stood before Es Sarch once again. Celtir stepped forward. “We choose to hear your tasks and then decide to ensure they do not go against our moral bent.”

“Understandable. The first task is important not just to me, but to any who dwell within Pedestal. An immense island of fungus glimmers atop the Sullen Sea west of Pedestal and I have been told that it releases dangerous digestive and luminescent spores into the air around it. These spores create a dim blue light, which you must have seen as you came to Pedestal, but they also slowly destroy fleshy creatures, including my undead agents. Those who live in this so-called Great Grotto are more susceptible to these spores. Sending anyone from Pedestal to the isle to collect what I seek would mean that creatures death. But for you surfacers, the threat should be minimal.

“Growing upon Rikaryon’s Isle, as it is called, is a mushroom for which those in Pedestal pay dearly. Its cap is a sovereign remedy against the plague that tumbled the ruling Drow from their alters and thrones. Journey down to the dock west of here on the Sullen Sea, find a seaworthy craft – a few are left – and head out to the isle. The mushrooms I seek are obvious, black with red spots in the shape of tiny hands. You can’t miss them. Bring me at least ten.”

The companions conferred for a moment but could find nothing particularly objectionable about the request. Each companion nodded in turn and finally Celtir turned to Es Sarch and stated, “We will do what you ask.”

“Good, I also have someone to send with you, a woman who is also a newcomer to Great Grotto. She has certain skills you may find useful. I would like to present Shar.” As he raised his hand a beautiful dark haired woman stepped from where she had been hidden in the shadows of the room. 

As the others looked at each other with uncertainty, the trusting Paladin stepped forward and presented his hand. As she took it, he raised her hand to his lips, gave her a quick kiss on the back of her hand and said, “Welcome aboard.”

----------​
After a short time to prepare equipment and finalize spell selection for the day, the companions headed off to the Docks. The directions they had received sent them two blocks north to what was called the Nobles West Gate, one of two entrances through the wall that surrounded the inner Noble Ward of the city. A jumble of dark stones filled the arch, blocking access. Beyond the wall were towering, rotted mansions. On the rising slope east of the gate was a great crater a few hundred feet in diameter. A dim green glow suffused the air above the craters rim that cast ominous dancing shadows on the ruins. 

As the companions took this in they noticed something else. All around them dust and tiny green motes seemed to coalesce into frightful, incorporeal shapes. To their left a shadowy Drow, to their right a monstrous spider and behind them the small figure of a goblin came into being. 

The Paladin charged the Drow, Merthuvial slashed down and through the figure and it dissipated as quickly as it had formed. Frankie charged the spider but his axe went right through the creature. Shar fired her shortbow back at the goblin and the arrow seemed to pierce the figure. Wencis ran up to it and finished it with a blow from his hammer. Bootsy, realizing what it would take to affect these creatures was happy to unleash one of the latest spells in his arsenal. Two magical bolts struck the spider on either side of its carapace. The spider lashed at Frankie with one of its legs and he felt the icy cold of death draining some of his strength as it passed through him. An arrow from Celtir pierced the spider and Tristan charged up to it and finished the creature with a strike from Merthuvial.

----------​
A crooked stone pier jutted hundreds of feet out into the moist darkness, lit occasionally along its length by a few lanterns fastened to it. Tiny waves lapped at the sides of the pier and at the decrepit watercraft tethered along the wharfs pocked length. A boat farther along the dock seemed to ride higher than the rest of the craft. It was just beyond a stone shack.

As the companion came around either side of the shack, a dusky, hairless female Dwarf in dark leathers stepped out of the shadows near the shack. Her black eyes seemed to scrutinize them and she held a short blade at the ready. “What business have you here sun warts?”

Once again, as all the others were reaching for weapons, Celtir stepped forward. “We are in need of a boat. We need to travel to the mushroom isle.”

This seemed to amuse the Dwarf as a slight smile crept across her face. “You want a boat? A wreck is fifty gold coins. One that floats is one hundred.”

Anger flashed across Tristan’s features, “And who are you to demand so much for a run down row boat?”

Her face grew stern as she addressed the paladin, “The assassins’ guild owns these docks. You want a boat? You pay!”

Tristan was about to retort when Frankie stepped forward and pulled some coin from a pouch, “I got it.”

Tristan was still grumbling as they climbed into the craft. “Don’t worry,” said Bootsy, “She won’t be seeing this boat again, you can be sure of that.”

“Violence isn’t always the best path, even when dealing with those of questionable morals,” added Celtir.

Tristan shook his head, “I suppose. I just don’t like dealing with evil even in simple matters of commerce.” 

----------​
The trip across the dark waters of the Sullen Sea was uneventful, though all were braced for the reappearance of the Aboleth. Just ahead small yellow protrusions as wide and thick as human fingers sprouted up through a layer of turgid black ooze near the beach. Luminescent green mushrooms with blue caps crowded the island, probably knee-high to a human near the waters edge but slowly increasing in stature inland. They reached heights of forty feet or more at the isle’s crowded center. The air around them was lit by a blue haze. 

They beached the boat on a narrow beach composed of a finely intertwined mesh of fibers from which the fingerlike protrusions grew. The ground was spongy but firm. A smell like yeast and citrus commingled, bracing in intensity, issued from the ground. The blue glow that suffused the island stung their throats. The blue haze was thin at the beach but grew thicker beneath the luminescent mushrooms inland. 

They slowly squeezed their way through the forest of green mushrooms that grew in thick clumps, toward where they though the island center would be. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of off color mushroom jokes from Bootsy, the island’s mushroom trees gave way to a wide space that was roughly circular. Within the clearing, the blue haze hung particularly thick. Broad, tall stems covered with short, stiff bristles shared the center on the clearing with tiny black mushrooms that sported red spots and were shaped like little hands.  Wencis heard a faint rustle up ahead, as though some unfelt wind was blowing through the undergrowth.

The companions spread out as they moved into the clearing alert for any danger. There was a sudden crashing as what must have been two large creatures rushed them and a snapping like the clenching of great jaws confirmed they were under attack, though they could see nothing before them.

Wencis and Celtir were the ones who felt the horrendous bites of the creatures and both were left with large wounds. Celtir tried to back away to fire his bow, but the creature bit him once more and his shot went wide. Bootsy, falling back on his old standby, threw a vial of acid, which broke over one of the great creatures and splashed his companions.  

Tristan and Frankie took position as the front line, slashing at the creatures with their weapons. Wencis joined them, punching at the creature with fists that were surrounded by glowing gauntlets of soul energy. The invisible creatures were hard to hit as the companions were unsure where to swing, but some of them were able to land blows. On the other hand, the creatures never seemed to miss and soon all three of the front line fighters had suffered bites from them.

Seeing the severity of the wounds being inflicted upon the three at the front, Bootsy stepped back and prepared to cast. First he called to Shar, “Get around them and collect mushrooms, in case we need to beat a hasty retreat!” Then, focusing his mystical energy, he launched a fiery ray at where he thought one of the creatures would be and was rewarded as the creature cried out in a raspy roar of pain. Following his lead Celtir stepped back at launched a burst of sound into the area where the creatures were, hoping its area of effect would harm both of the unseen assailants. 

Just as Wencis punched one with his gauntlets of energy, it caught him up in its jaws and savaged him horribly. When the jaws released him, he fell to the ground bleeding profusely. As Frankie continued to slash with his ax, Tristan stepped over to heal Wencis. Once healed Wencis scrambled back to find a safe place to stand up. Another Scorching Ray from Bootsy finally dropped one of the creatures and the remaining companions focused on the last creature, Celtir switching back to his bow. Finally, Bootsy launched a vial of Alchemists fire and the last creature dropped to the ground.

Bootsy stepped over to Shar, who had collected an armful of the black mushrooms and took off his magical haversack. “Well, it looks like we have more time to pick shroons than I expected. Let’s see if we can fill this up.”

----------​
Not wanting to encounter the rude dwarf at the docks, the companions put in well south of there and quickly returned to the Inn. Es Sarch seemed pleased when he saw how many mushrooms they had brought back. “Since you brought so many extra I will see to it you each receive a vial of the remedy that will protect you from Ash Doom, the plague that has brought Pedestal to its knees. Are you ready for your next task?”

Celtir looked at the condition of his companions and saw most still bore wounds from the combat on the island. “I think we’ll rest first. You can tell us of it in the morning.”

Es Sarch nodded graciously, “So be it. Rest well and we shall talk in the morning.”

Bootsy stepped forward as the others turned to leave, “Do you have a shed or some such place where we could store a good sized row boat?”


----------



## Peteinmaine

*SS Minnow*

On behalf of our 3 hour tour, I am dubbing our new watercraft the SS Minnow, and the two hookers I pick up at the inn Ginger and Maryanne


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## Abciximab

I'm glad I wasn't the only one thinking that. I almost named the chapter "Here on Rikaryon's Isle".


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## NarlethDrider

glad to see another post! MORE!

the reason i ask about info on the characters is I'm trying to get my rusty artistic skills "oiled up" & I might give drawing some of the pcs a try


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## Abciximab

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, 
A tale of a fateful trip, 
That started from this stony port, 
Aboard this tiny ship. 

The mate was a mighty sorcerer, 
The cleric brave and sure.
Four passengers set sail that day,
For a three hour tour, a three hour tour. 

The Sunless Sea was cold and dark,
The tiny ship it crossed, 
If not for the courage of the fearless crew, 
The mushrooms would be lost, the mushrooms would be lost. 

The boat set ground on the shore of this soggy mushroom isle, 
With Bootsy, The Cleric too, the Paladin with his knife, 
The Sexy Rogue, the Incarnate and the Barbarian, 
Here on Rikaryon’s Isle.


Sorry. There is another post coming to finish session 8. Probably tomorrow.


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## Peteinmaine

*wow*

That was pretty damn good Kevin!!!


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## Abciximab

*The Dusklorn Matron*​
“The disruption following Pedestal’s fall lasts even unto this hour, though I must admit the vacuum provided by the fleeing Drow has been to my advantage. Consider, though, that the reason this city did and does not completely collapse into chaos is due to my efforts. Nearly everyone here appreciates my influence. But gratitude doesn’t last, and others seek to displace me.” 

Es Sarch’s voice fell to a whisper. “The Assassins’ Guild has decided to seek an alliance with house Dusklorn. If my agents were to disrupt this burgeoning accord, I fear I’d do more to cement the relationship than diffuse it. I ask you to eliminate or drive off Elessarwa Nledoor, matron of the house and a psychotic to boot. I have knowledge of a hidden route into her secret torture chamber, where she slinks away from her duties to the Dusklorn to apply her savage arts to hapless victims she takes from Pedestal’s alleys. I have arranged matters so the Dusklorn will believe her death to be the work of the duplicitous Assassins’ Guild. That will be the end of that.”

This time it was Tristan who stepped forward, “You say we can try to convince her to leave?”

Es Sarch’s faint hissing laugh lasted only a short time. “Yes Paladin, if you can convince her to leave and never return, that would be acceptable. I expect you will find her evil through and through and you will be left with no alternative but to kill her in self defense if you do not act first.”

After a brief consultation amongst themselves, they agreed to the task.

“Good,” said Es Sarch as he reached into one of the voluminous sleeves of his robe and produced a folded parchment. “This will get you where you need to be without taking on the whole of House Dusklorn which would only lead to certain death.”

Bootsy accepted the paper and unfolded it.

_Find the old tannery on Matron Road near the wall that encircles Nobles Bluff. The skin shop’s ghastly smell yet lingers in the area. Inside, on the southern wall, find a green stain in the shape of a three fingered hand. That stain marks the location of a hidden trap door that opens to a passage under the building. Follow this tunnel to its highest point. You’ll come to a doorway of a chamber used by Elessarwa for her arts._

“Right. Let’s get ready.”

----------​
They could smell the old tannery before they could see it. As they got closer they could smell the faint odor of the urine and feces used in the tanning process. The stomach turning odor got worse as they neared a run-down, single story structure of limestone and granite. There was a wide open doorway in the middle of the wall. As they entered, the stench became almost overpowering. Yellow-green luminescence clung to every surface, outlining dozens of clay vats that cover large portions of the floor. Dilapidated tables along the walls were stained with the outlines of stretched hides, some humanoid in shape. On the southern wall was a glowing green stain in the shape of a three fingered hand. Sitting beneath the stain, it’s back supported by the wall, was a humanoid figure whose identity was lost in filthy rags. 

The companions all looked to the paladin. What they saw was a rather surprised look and a shake of his head indicating he detected no evil. Tristan stepped forward, “Excuse me…”

The figure looked up, seemingly startled by the break in the silence of the room. Beneath the cowl they could make out the features of a Drow Elf, but his eyes blazed with intensity and his expression led the companions to only one conclusion. This Drow was insane. Before Tristan can continue, he was interrupted by the Drow who leapt to his feet.

“I am Numa, A prophet! I see what will be and I see the end of existence! See there?” He yelled, pointing to the eastern wall of the room where there was nothing more than the mold that covered the whole room. “It punches up from the deep core to the sunburned surface, rising higher and higher, until it is lost in the white mists that shroud the top of the world. What is it? Not alive, not quite. It is a glyph-scribed obelisk wrapped in eternal storm, hollowed and inhabited by slimy creatures whose hunger can never be sated!”

He moved to the middle of the room staring wildly at the wall as if there was something more there to see. The companions saw his pocked flesh and stepped back giving him room to continue his rant.

“It is the city that heralds the end,” Numa continued in a harsh whisper. “A city primeval regurgitated by the earth! Vast creatures of the deeps wing ‘bout it and tentacles slither within. Who lives in the city? Sinful, soft carapaces surround minds that churn with philosophies hostile to all other creatures. Roused from the drowned depths, the fabled city is fable no more!”

Tristan edged forward. “That’s, uh, interesting, but we have some business here we would like to take care of and it would be best if you weren’t here to witness it.”

Numa’s face grew to look almost sad as he shuffled out the door. “I wish the bugs in my hair would comb it.”

Following the directions given by Es Sarch, Shar quickly found the secret trapdoor. Opening it, they found a five foot wide shaft that dropped to a wet sloped tunnel.

The smell of damp earth and stone was a welcome relief from the odor of the tannery above. The passage sloped slightly upward to the north and downward to the south. Ages of dripping water had birthed stalagmites and stalactites that lined the tunnel like teeth and tiny rivulets of water burbled down the passage, off into the darkness.

They followed the ten foot wide ascending tunnel for about three hundred feet before they saw it veer southeast and downward once again. 

Bootsy looked to the wall at the center of the arc in the tunnel. “This must be the place,” he whispered. 

As they came around the corner they saw motion in the tunnel at the opposite end of the arc as a large abomination skittered forth. From the carapace of a giant spider rose the torso of a Drow female. The creature hissed and started forward.

Frankie charged forward to meet the creature and slashed the Drider across the torso. Angered the creature stepped back and unleashed a spell. A pea sized ball flew across the tunnel and blossomed into a huge ball of fire that engulfed Shar, Wencis and Tristan. All three were left with horrible burns. Shar and Celtir returned fire with arrows but both shots missed their targets. Bootsy cast and a ray of fire struck the creature, burning away some of its flesh. Wencis charged forward and struck the creature with his glowing gauntlets burning her even more. The creature took a step back and fired a Scorching Ray right into Wencis’ chest dropping him for the second time in as many days. Frankie’s axe quickly put an end to the threat.

A quick search revealed the creature carried little but did have a wand among her possessions. Bootsy was unable to contain his excitement. “I can’t identify it, can anyone check to see what it does?”

To everyone’s surprise Celtir stepped forward. “One of my elders was a Mage who showed me some basic concepts in using magical devices.” A few subtle manipulations sent a pea sized ball flying down the corridor where it burst into a ball of fire.

An excited Bootsy grabbed the wand from Celtir's hands. “Great! I’ll see if Es Sarch has someone to identify it when we get back.”

The companions gathered around and a quick search by Shar revealed the secret entrance. As Shar moved to open the door Celtir looked around the tunnel. Something didn’t seem right. “Wait, are we missing someone? There are only five of us here.” 

Frankie looked back toward the dead Drider. “Oh ! Wencis!” Celtir and Tristan ran over to where the incarnate lay bleeding on the floor, partially hidden by the fallen body of the Drider and healed him, placing him back among the conscious.

“Ouch, Tough Fight. Good thing we’re all in this together,” Wencis said as he received some additional healing from the cleric. 

Everyone was trying to hide guilty looks until Bootsy broke the silence. “Yeah, we better see if we can find that secret entrance now that you’re feelin’ better. Oh look, there it is,” he said, pointing at the wall without even looking at it.

Moving back to the door Shar checked to see if it was locked. The moment she touched the door there was a loud ringing sound. Finding the door locked and realizing whoever was within may be summoning help, she started to work feverishly at the lock. “It’s too complicated for me to open quickly.”

A quick shove by Frankie, Wencis and Celtir showed the stone door was too sturdy for them to break through. Left with little choice, Shar tried again with her tools. Two minutes later, she finally succeeded in unlocking the door. Unsure of what this delay would do to their chances of success, they opened the door, ready for anything.  

Dim light beyond revealed iron maidens, racks and other intricate contraptions in alcoves and spaced throughout the room. The northeastern alcove was closed off with bars and two forlorn gray-skinned gnomes stared out from behind them. Near the northern wall stood a stone altar adorned with intricate carvings of a spider that had the head of a female elf. Atop the altar was another gray gnome who whimpered as he struggled feeble against the manacles that held him.

Glaring at the companions from behind the altar were two Drow. One was a striking female with chin-length silver hair and glittering chain armor. The other was a slight, bald male clothed in loose black pants. Both held shiny daggers. 

Both groups regarded each other for a moment and then there was a flurry of spell casting. Bootsy was the first to finish and his Scorching Ray struck the female Drow right in the face. Struck dead in an instant, she didn’t even have time to cry out and simply collapsed to the ground. Frankie charged the male and struck him with his axe. If this fazed him in the least, it didn’t show as the Drow cast a sheet of webs over the entire entryway, effectively blocking the entrance. No one was caught within the webs though most were caught outside the room. Tristan was able to make it in and ran around to slash at the male Drow. Frankie's axe quickly finished the job.

As Bootsy burned away the webs, Tristan and Frankie set about releasing the poor gnomes from their captivity. 

Gathering what equipment they could use, Celtir cast Detect Magic and a surprising amount of it was magic, including a wicked looking dagger. “Looks like we’ll have a lot to Identify once we get back. I hope Es Sarch has a reliable person, uh, creature or whatever on staff.”

----------​
The following morning the companions reconvened in the common room. Es Sarch had indeed found a spellcaster to Identify all their new equipment for five hundred and fifty gold coins.

They gathered around Es Sarch to hear what he had discovered. “You have more than my gratitude for completing the tasks I set you; I also have answers for you. First, I have discovered that Fadheela lairs in the Necromancers Spike, as unlikely a haven as I could have imagined. But our fair Fadheela possesses resources that extend beyond Pedestal. She found a way to bypass the zone of decay that surrounds the column’s entry. And now I know that way too.

“To enter the Necromancer’s Spike, one of you must carry this token,” Es Sarch held up an obsidian ring on which a skull was inscribed. Tristan stepped forward to accept it as Es Sarch continued. “It will save you from destructive magic protecting the first room within. Take care, however, for the ring suppresses the deathly effects for only a minute or so.

“Unfortunately, undead decay in that chamber even if they carry the ring, so I have been unable to learn anything else of the Vanguard of Sertrous other than that the groups arrival is recent here in the Great Grotto. I suspect this mysterious faction has found a convenient entry point into the Underdark somewhere within the Necromancer’s Spike. Fadheela, as an associate of the Assassins’ Guild in Pedestal, is a perfect agent.

“House Dusklorn has claimed the Spike. You’ll face soldiers at its entryway but not within. Unlike you and ostensibly, this Fadheela, they have no way to get past the magic that protects the first room.

“If you gain entry and survive, I hope you return and tell me what you learn. I can make it worth your while.”

Bootsy smiled, “Oh, we’ll be back, you can be sure of that.”

End of Session 8.


----------



## Abciximab

Session Notes. 

Once again Celtir amazes us with actual Diplomacy. Not to mention the real surprise. He actually burned 6 skill points to have 3 ranks in Use Magic Device. Whoda thunk. Then rolled a natural 20 on the UMD check for a whopping 27.

I think Bootsy has a new favorite spell now that he knows he can crit with a ray. Critting the Dusklorn Matron not only disrupted the reinforcements she was summoning but ended her evil life as well. 

Wencis, well what can I say. The Incarnate is a collection of abilities none of us understand. The words, “You’re doing what know?”, “How the hell can you do that?” and “What the hell was that?” seem to be heard a lot when it’s his turn. If I didn’t trust the players, I might think he was pulling this stuff out of his ass.

Tristan has real potential to become a Blackguard at some point although he’s more likely to become a featless fighter. Last campaign he was a CN rogue, a character that suits his playing style. He’s trying this because he doesn’t want to be typecast. So far so good.

Frankie the sturdy dwarven Barbarian is probably the smartest barbarian that ever lived. Always there to lend a great axe when needed. If only we could get his AC out of the mid teens.

And our special guest star as Shar the rogue. Tristan’s new girlfriend wanted to experience Geeks in their natural habitat, so of course we tortured her by making her actually roll a few dice. I don’t expect she’ll be back. Hopefully she will let Tristan’s player return.


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## NarlethDrider

loved the song & glad to see a new post----lookin forward to more


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## mundinironhand

after playing characters that are very obscure, a binder, sword sage, and incarnate i thi9nk my next character will be just a plain gnomish thief


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## Abciximab

mundinironhand said:
			
		

> after playing characters that are very obscure, a binder, sword sage, and incarnate i thi9nk my next character will be just a plain gnomish thief




Yeah, right. That would be like Seth playing a Paladin. Oh, wait...


As for the possibility of artwork from NarlethDrider, that would be very cool. The players I've spoken to have expressed interest. We'll see what they post. If you want a place to start, I know our Dwarven Barbarian (mithril chain shirt large great axe (Just took Monkeygrip)) isn't online. Anything you come up with would be great. I'd print it and bring it to our game for him.


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## High Cleric

Celtir's descrip - black haired elf, with a chain shirt and bow. Probably looks a little stern, tho not too uptight (I hope!). Holy Symbol of Sollonor (a silver arrow?), hangs around his neck.


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## High Cleric

mundinironhand said:
			
		

> after playing characters that are very obscure, a binder, sword sage, and incarnate i thi9nk my next character will be just a plain gnomish thief





But that would mean you have to use one of the Core books for your PC! OMG!


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## Abciximab

High Cleric said:
			
		

> Celtir's descrip - black haired elf, with a chain shirt and bow. Probably looks a little stern, tho not too uptight (I hope!). Holy Symbol of Sollonor (a silver arrow?), hangs around his neck.




I thought his holy symbol was mounted on part of his bow? (Celtir's Backstory)


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## High Cleric

Wow, your right! Someone actually read that?


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## Peteinmaine

*Bootsy*

Bootsy was modelled on a crazy leprechaun sorceror.  dark red hair and beard, the kind of mustache you could twirl in your fingers while cackling maniacally.  So although he's gnomish, think more lucky charms, except instead of wearing green he's rockin' out in khakis and a bandolier full of stuff to throw.  Definitely a stupid hat, and obnoxious boots.  the crossbow was incidental he rolled up with enough oomph to be good with the thing and my proficiency to roll crits against other DMs is staggering.


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## Abciximab

*Announcement.*

I am sorry to announce to both our readers that we have had a delay of game due to real life issues so there will be no update this week. Three people out of 6 called out for no good reason. One said something about a new baby and another had a term paper. I hope they get their priorities sorted out. 

Seriously though, congratulations to Frankie’s player on the birth of his new son. ( I haven’t heard the name yet, this is his 2nd child I believe). 

I hope to see all these slackers at the next game scheduled for Wednesday the 30th. An update will follow soon after.


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## NarlethDrider

[wee orphan voice]_more, sir?_[/wee orphan voice]


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## Abciximab

Bootsy – 5th/1st Level Gnome Sorcerer/Fighter.
Celtir – 6th Level Elven Cleric.
Frankie – 6th Level Dwarven Barbarian.
Tristan – 5th Level Human Paladin.
Wencis – 5th Level Aasimar Incarnate.


As the companions came back downstairs from preparing spells and equipment for the trip to the Necromancers Spike, they saw a familiar face sitting at one of the tables. Bruthwol Coalhauler smiled as he spread his arms in greeting.

“Greetings, friends! You made it safely, I see. Have you had any success finding what you seek? If there is anything you need to buy or sell, I’m sure I could be of assistance. With the resources of the Bazaar at my disposal, I could find many things that you might find useful. There would be a ‘finder’s fee’ of course,” he adds with a wink. “If there is anything I can help you with, you have but to ask and I’ll do what I can. Please join me if you will, you can tell me of your experiences in Pedestal.”

Thinking of things they may need or want for their expedition to the Necromancers Spike they accepted Bruthwol’s invitation and seated themselves around his table.

*Into the Spike*​
Their business with Bruthwol completed, the companions left the Inn and headed east down Matron Row to where the unblocked East Gate allowed entrance to the Noble Quarter. Passing through the gate the ruined towering mansions were revealed. Most were decaying and covered with opportunistic fungi. 

Traveling just a block through the ruined quarter they came upon the massive column of unbelievable size that was the Necromancer’s Spike – the heart of the city, its highest point. Looking up, the companions saw light glimmering all around the curving sides of the towering natural formation, as if from hundreds of tiny windows. As they approached the entrance at the base of the column, they could see the tiny patches of light were clearly discrete patches of luminescent fungi.

As the companions approached the entryway, Tristan checked to make sure the obsidian ring was in place on one of his fingers. “Remember, I should enter first. The magic that wards the entrance may not be obvious.”

Thick stone doors that must have once secured the entry lay in piles of gravel and small boulders all around the entrance. As they approached, a bulky male Drow in a shining breastplate stepped out from behind a pillar. He glared at the companions and waved his serrated scimitar, his shield at the ready.

“Get gone from here, or we’ll use your skins for our cloaks!” He snarled. “House Dusklorn claims the Necromancer’s Spike!”

Deeper in the tunnel, they saw another Drow covering them with an ornate longbow.

The companions stopped, unsure of how to proceed. As Celtir tried to think of what approach to use diplomatically, Bootsy stepped behind some rubble and cast two spells in quick succession. The first rendered him invisible, the second created a strong electrical charge on his hands. 

Moving as quietly as he could, he snuck up to the first Drow, who had grown even more suspicious of the party. Just as he was about to signal his companion to attack, he heard the sound of the rocks in front of him shifting even as he saw a brief spark discharge on his armor. The spell washed harmlessly over the Drow and he was only mildly surprised to see the gnome standing before him. 

Bootsy quickly backpedaled to put some distance between him and the Drow, drawing his trusty crossbow as he went. The Drow slashed him with his scimitar as he retreated causing a minor wound. At first Bootsy was unconcerned as he brought his crossbow up for the shot, but then noticed that he suddenly felt drowsy and understood that the enemy’s weapons must be poisoned. He shrugged off the feeling and fired his crossbow, his bolt creasing the Drow’s cheek. The remaining companions surged forward to attack and the first Drow was quickly cut down. The Second fired his bow, piercing Tristan’s leg. Wincing at the pain and shaking his head to clear his mind from the sluggishness that followed, Tristan charged forward and slashed the Drow with Merthuvial. His companions crowded into the narrow entryway to assist where they could and the second Drow only managed to attack Tristan once more before he was dropped in a flurry of blades and arrows.

The companions made a quick search of the bodies and the surrounding area but found little beyond the Drow’s equipment. 

Looking deeper into the tunnel, they saw a green haze filled the next chamber, giving it a strangely aquatic look. The floor was tiled with slabs the color of bone and the walls were crowded with what appeared to be hundreds of vault doors, each bearing the crude likeness of a humanoid. Drifts of gray dust were mounded here and there, but were piled thickly in each corner. A chill radiated from the chamber that cut right through the companion’s cloaks and seemed to portend death.

Tristan gave a wry smile, “Then again, the warded room may be rather obvious. We should decide on a course of action before we enter. Es Sarch warned us that the protection offered by the ring only lasts a short time each day.” 

Examining the room without entering, the companions noticed only two exits, one on either of the side walls. Following a brief discussion it was decided to go left. While making sure all was ready for their advance, Bootsy Slumped to the floor. Used to Bootsy’s antics the companions waited for a moment to see what he might do. When he made no move to rise, Wencis bent over to check on him. “He’s out. He must have finally succumbed to the Drow poison. He’ll wake eventually, but it may be a few hours.” 

Another brief discussion and it was decided they should rest once they were beyond the warded room. Double checking everything once again, Frankie lifted the gnome up onto his shoulders and they gathered at the entryway.

Moving quickly through the room the companions opened the northern door and crowded through into a narrow hall that offered a number of choices. Four doors were equally spaced down the length of the northern wall and, counting the door they had entered through, two doors stood at either end of the southern wall.

As Frankie set Bootsy down, Wencis moved to the first of the four doors and opened it while Celtir opened the second. Beyond each door was a small room, its walls lined with shelves, nooks and pedestals upon which rested the dusty relics of a life spent in the study of magic and death. The first held preserved body parts of rare beasts. The second held what may have been exhausted magic items, dusty wands and staves now nothing more than sticks. Celtir smiled, “It’s a good thing Bootsy is already out, the sense of frustration at seeing so many expended magic items would probably send him right over the edge.”

Making sure Bootsy would be in the first room, the companions split into two groups to rest in the two rooms. Most of the time was uneventful, though in the first hour the companions heard distant screams and cries that seemed to come from further in the Spike. In the fourth hour, mere minutes before Bootsy finally awoke, Tristan felt a strange sensation that he could not describe, though the feeling was fleeting and seemed to have no lasting effect on him.

When Bootsy finally awoke he seemed back to his normal self, though he was a little grumpy at what he felt was a display of weakness in front of his companions. The companions quickly ushered him past the second door and down toward the end of the hall. The third door revealed a similar room with various religious icons and paraphernalia spread throughout the room. Always interested in displays of religion, Celtir entered and gathered a few of the relics noting they seemed to cover most of the common religions of the world and even a few that were uncommon. 

Wencis opened the fourth door and saw cobwebbed niches filled with dusty skulls and bones of humanoid creatures. Before he could take more than one step into the room, the door made a sound as if it were opening once again, even though the already open door did not budge.  The translucent shade of a gaunt male Drow seemed to step right through Wencis and into the room, his black staff clicking against the floor as he entered. As Wencis watched, the shade removed a cloak and hung it on the wall near the door, and then he abruptly cocked his head and looked upwards, mouthing words silently and looking angry. The figure turned and rushed from the room, disappearing near the doorway. Wencis noticed the cloak still hung near the door.

He entered the room and cautiously lifted the cloak from its peg. He turned to Bootsy, “Is this magical?”

Bootsy murmured a quick incantation and then gazed at the cloak, “Yep.” He then cast his gaze around the rest of the room, making sure to include the ceiling in his scrutiny, but saw nothing of interest. “But nothing else is,” he said, shaking his head as he left the room.

Seeing no other options, the companions turned to the door on the opposite wall. Soft illumination from a candelabrum full of black candles that sat in the center of a huge stone table lit the chamber beyond the door. Ten ironwork chairs, the most elaborate of which was at the head of the table to the north, surrounded the slab. All the places were set. Dust and cobwebs covered the whole scene. 

A quick examination revealed nothing of value and showed the candle flame was magical in nature. Noting the double doors on the southern wall of the room, the companions chose to go through a single door in the western wall.

Covered in cobwebs and dust, this small room was empty except for rows of blanket covered beds. 

“Guess we should have explored a little further when we were looking for a place to rest,” Wencis laughed. A quick search uncovered nothing else of interest. 

Returning to the dining room, the companions opened the double doors into another hall that continued south where it appeared to open into a room to the east. The corridor also went to the west where there appeared to be a number of doors on either side of the corridor.

Following the corridor to the south, the companions found it opened into what appeared to be a small kitchen. A stone counter lined the southern wall and a leering gargoyles head looked downward, mouth open, into a black sink at the counter’s end to the east. Worn smooth in places, a long stone table occupied the center of the room. Above it hung a web of wrought iron, upon which dangled iron pots and utensils. Two huge fireplaces, each furnished with iron wire shelves and rods to set or suspend pots on, were set into the walls – one to the east and the other in an alcove to the north. Soot and ash were still piled in their bottoms. A pantry loomed in the northwest corner, its shelves still held a few shiny dishes, possibly of gold or brass. Unlike the musty areas they had explored so far, this room smelled vaguely of death. 

Bootsy, finding the idea of exploring a kitchen rather boring, started to wander back down toward the western hall to inspect one of the more interesting doors. Celtir and Wencis entered the kitchen to see what they could find, while Tristan and Frankie stayed in the hall, waiting for the first sign of trouble. They didn’t have long to wait. Celtir turned to examine the stone counter and sink as Wencis went to the table in the center of the room. Before he could touch anything, he noticed five tiny, vaguely humanoid accumulations of ash, bone and teeth dart from the fireplaces. Their leg-like appendages made a repulsive pattering sound as they surged toward Celtir and Wencis with alarming speed. Sooty dust they had stirred up lent a bitter tang to the air. 

Wencis lashed out with his hammer wounding one as the three of tiny creatures crawled right up to him and bit at his legs. Holding his bow, Celtir was unable to get a bearing on the two that attacked him. Frankie and Tristan ran to help, each killing one of the horrid creatures that crawled on either of their companions. Hearing the sounds of combat, Bootsy ran back down the hall to see what was going on. With the full force of the companions weapons and magic brought to bear on the tiny creatures they were quickly killed, but not before Wencis and Celtir were both bitten by the tiny undead. 

As Wencis went to examine the pantry, Celtir showed Tristan his leg where the creature had bitten him, “Does this look infected to you?” Tristan just shrugged then they both looked about as the stench of rot suddenly grew stronger in the room.

With a low moan, the pantry shelves sprouted lashing pseudopods tipped with terrible claws. A gnashing maw filled with yellow fangs and viscous saliva appeared between the grasping arms. One of the arms struck Wencis, who found himself stuck to the disgusting creature by some slimy adhesive. 

Bootsy had once again started to wander to the far end of the hall. To get his attention Celtir let out a yell, “Mimic!”

Wencis quickly corrected him, “Undead Mimic!”

The companions converged on the creature as it started to crush Wencis in its grasp. Wencis reached out with his soul energy gauntlets, burning at the creatures flesh as the weapons of his companions sliced into the creature, the adhesive threatening to pull the weapons from their hands. Once again it was Frankie’s greataxe that finished their foe. As the creature died, Wencis was finally able to pull himself free of the creature as the adhesive seemed to break down.

Having encountered so much trouble in such a small room, the companions were hesitant to continue their search. They finally got up the nerve and finished the search uneventfully. They found nothing more than pots, pans and utensils.

While the others were examining the kitchen Bootsy had finally made it to the two doors at the far end of the western hall. One he was certain opened into the warded room so he opened the other. A wave of cold washed over him and his breath turned to steam as the door opened. Shelves all along the walls held limbless bodies – turned blue-white but preserved by the cold – with their heads still attached. 

Tristan came up to look just as Bootsy was finishing his examination. He frowned in disgust and anger at what he saw, “What in the name of all that is holy is this Place? Who would commit such an atrocity? I would destroy all that is here if I didn’t think it would be even more disrespectful to the bodies of these poor souls!” He knelt with Merthuvial before him and murmured a prayer for the souls of the dead and then he quickly stood, turned and left the room without looking back.

Bootsy joined them in the middle of the hall where there was a door to the south. “Well, this is the only door on this level we haven’t tried.”

Wencis opened the door. The large chamber curved outward at the south end. Within that curve were gradual stairs that lead to an altar of black stone. The statue of a spider the size of a big bear, seemingly pieced together from bones and fangs, stood astride the altar. From the altar a gossamer carpet of webs stretched down the stairs and fifteen feet into the room, enshrouded a pedestal in the middle of the room. 

Bootsy pulled out one of his wands and grinned, “This looks like a job for… Fireball!” A small bead the size of a pea flew from the end of the wand and blossomed into a ball of fire that covered most of the chamber, burning away the webs while leaving the stonework unharmed. After waiting a bit to let some of the smoke from the burning webs clear, the companions entered. 

Tristan stepped up to what was now revealed to be a large font set atop a low pedestal. “Water. I wonder what would happen if I drank some?”

Celtir quickly stepped forward, “Don’t. It’s probably unholy water which, if you’re lucky, will just make you sick.” With that he bent down and pushed the font over, sending the dark water splashing across the floor where it seeped away between the stones of the floor. 

Before he could even stand up straight, a volley of spikes launched from the bone spider, striking Celtir in the shoulder. There was a prolonged crack and a sinister series of clicks as the monstrous bone statue atop the altar suddenly rose up and stood on splayed legs. Mandibles formed of huge fangs clicked together as the horror lurched to life. 

Wencis was first to act, launching his hammer at the creature and sending his Soul Spark forward to attack. His hammer knocked chips of bone from the creature and the energy burst from the Soul Spark burned the creature. The construct bit the Soul Spark, tearing at the energy that formed it. As it did this there was a terrible scuttling noise as shiny black spiders that had fiery eyes began to pour from between the seams in the bone spider’s construction. They arranged themselves into a mass of legs and fangs that started to churn toward the companions. 

Bootsy shouted, “I got ‘em!” And a fan of fire from his outstretched hands turned the swarm of spiders to ash. The edge of the fire had washed over the bone spider but it seemed unscathed.

Frankie and Tristan ran up to the bone spider and their weapons knocked away more bone chips as Celtir cast a spell that sent a burst of positive energy into the creature. The spider lashed out at Frankie, sinking its fangs deep into his leg. 

The companions struck back, Bootsy and Celtir, having seen how ineffective their magic had been, switched to their bows and Wencis continued to launch his hammer at the creature as his Soul Spark fired bursts of energy that seemed to do little damage to the construct. 

Frankie and Tristan held the line, their blades slashing at the creature as it attacked over and over, leaving both of them covered in their own blood. They were a little irritated when Bootsy switched to vials of acid when he saw his bolts glancing off without even leaving a mark on the creature. Then they were amazed to find some of their wounds healed when Celtir raised his holy symbol while calling upon Solonor and a burst of positive energy filled the chamber.

Finally Tristan struck a telling blow. Merthuvial split the seam that made up the head of the creature and the spider seemed to wobble then stop for a moment. It dropped as its animating force seemed to falter and there was a cracking sound. Suddenly the creature literally blew apart, sending sharp fragments of bone throughout the room, wounding all of the companions. 

Bootsy looked around the room and saw the effects of the blast on his companions. He turned to Celtir, “Can you do that holy thing again?”

Celtir smiled and raised his holy symbol once again.


----------



## Abciximab

*Onward and Upward*​
Wencis shook his head, “I don’t know. We’ve searched this whole place at least twice.”

“We’ll just have to keep looking,” Celtir answered as he inspected the walls of the kitchen once more. “There has to be more to this place then what we have seen.”

Having run out of obvious doors to open, the companions had to resort to searching for secret doors throughout most of the level once again. Finally, from the northern hall they heard a shout from Bootsy, “Found it!”

Bootsy was standing at the very end of the northern hall running his hands over the wall looking for a catch to open the secret door he suspected was before him. Just as the last of the companions arrived, he finally found it. Pushing in a small stone the door slid open. Beyond was a short hall that opened up to a small ten foot square room with a spiral staircase in the middle. Bootsy smiled and waved the others through, “Up we go!”

The stairway ended in another square chamber that was slightly larger than the one below. In addition to the spiral stair down, there we two other staircases that ascended the western side of the room, one attached to the southern wall the other attached to the northern wall. At the top of each stairway was a stone door with a heavy iron bar across it.

Frankie and Tristan went up the northern stair while Celtir and Wencis went up the southern. Bootsy waited at the foot of the southern stairs. Celtir and Frankie looked at one another and with an unspoken agreement both lifted the bars and opened the doors at the same time. Both doors opened into the same room. 

The stench of death poured through the doors, which opened into a massive chamber. A wide elevated walkway led west through the room, a deep yawning pit on either side. Heaps of bodies and body parts formed an obscene landscape at the bottom of the northern pit. Some were jerking spasmodically and moaning. The southern pit was full of skeletons and bones, some of which were rattling and twitching. A pair of smaller catwalks ran around the room’s perimeter, but these were cut out of the walls, not supported by the floor like the central walkway was. A figure stood motionless in the middle of the central walkway.

A low groan sounded from the creature on the central walkway as it lurched around to face the companions. It appeared to be made from an assortment of Drow body parts, stitched and fastened together into an eight foot tall mockery of life. 

The companions charged. Wencis was first to attack once again and once again sent his Soul Spark to close with the massive creature while he launched his hammer from a distance. Frankie and Tristan charged up to the creature, both of their blades bit deep though the Golem hardly seemed to notice. The angry creature pushed Frankie knocking him back and into the northern pit. Though his landing was softened by the body parts he landed on, he was disturbed to find the twitching limbs grasping at him and trying to pull him beneath the layers of body parts. He was even more disturbed to see a swarm of undead rats moving through the pit in his direction. He was saved from what may have been a horrible fate by a Fireball from Booty’s wand that decimated the rat swarm and stilled many of the twitching body parts. Celtir cast a spell, once again sending a small burst of positive energy against the enemy. The Flesh Golem was unimpressed. 

Breaking free from the grasping hands, Frankie threw himself up the wall and scurried to the top as the others continued to attack the creatures with weapons. Bootsy launched a Scorching Ray at the creature. It didn’t seem to burn the creature, but he did notice that the Golem seemed to move more slowly. 

Frankie ran up to rejoin Tristan at the front line and both sank their blades into the creature once again. Even though it was slowed the large creature still dealt out punishing blows with its fists and soon both the front line fighters and the Soul Spark had suffered grievous wounds. Running out of ideas, Bootsy ran around the creature, taking a hit as he did so and struck at it with his mace. Celtir came up behind Tristan and Frankie and released a burst of positive energy, healing some of the wounds on his companions so that they might hold the line. 

With his support, the companions slowly whittled away at the creature that seemed able to absorb an incredible amount of punishment. Finally the creature dropped, even as Bootsy noticed a swarm of skeletal rats coming up to the wall of the southern pit. He quickly sent a Fireball down into the pit to destroy the swarm. 

Moving to the far side of the walkway they found two doorways apparently barred from the other side as the others had been. As Frankie and Celtir struck at the door to smash it apart, Tristan looked around and noticed that almost all the companions still suffered from wounds from all they had come up against so far in the Spike. He raised his holy symbol and called out to his god, releasing a burst of positive energy that healed his companions. Seeing they were all still wounded he raised his holy symbol once again. 

For the next thirty seconds, the walls of the charnel pits were lit over and over again by the strobe-like effects of the paladin’s prayers.

End of Session 9


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## Abciximab

Session Notes.

Chaos. Yes, Chaos. It would appear we are a chaotic crowd. 

The author of the mod made some rather… unfortunate word choices, which when combined with a graphical representation of the Necromancers Spike and our groups tendency toward puerile humor, made it extremely difficult to get through any boxed text without eliciting howls of laughter. Gaping cavity indeed…

We actually covered more ground than I expected, we had a late start and had trouble staying focused (“Stop having so much fun and get serious!”  ) but luckily we were still able to keep things moving.

I think it was rather a frustrating night for Bootsy (the character more then the player), between blowing a caster level check on the Drow, Failing his secondary save vs poison and then the two big encounters were immune to most of his spells. Luckily this sorcerer doesn’t actually stand there and do nothing (or worse, sulk) when presented with these conditions.

I think I like the positive energy burst, the Paladin was thrilled when he heard the change and went into strobe light mode at the end of the game. Allowing the cleric to use his spells for something other than healing and allowing for the Paladin to have more healing than Lay on Hands helped them progress through the Spike as quickly as they have. 

All in all a fun (but crazy) session. Come to think of it that describes pretty much every session.


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## NarlethDrider

glad to read more


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## mundinironhand

*the spire*

I think wencis really enjoys letting the tiny soul spark be his meat shield only 20 hps and it didn't die the entire time.  throwing the hammer from afar defiently kept him concious the entire session which is a nice change.  since the level up wencis can now share his soulmelds with his familiar which mreans the soulspark will be charging some attacks with electricity as well as an ac boost.


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## Peteinmaine

*what really killed the golem*

The golem was cursed with a pace maker.... and between holier than though, and his partner holier after my sword hits you flashing away the strobe effect put the damn thing on the fritz and the rest......is history


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## Abciximab

Peteinmaine said:
			
		

> The golem was cursed with a pace maker.... and between holier than though, and his partner holier after my sword hits you flashing away the strobe effect put the damn thing on the fritz and the rest......is history




I think I had to read that statement about ten times to figure out what it meant. So, they microwaved the Flesh Golum's pacemaker, got it, I think...


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## Ipissimus

Great stuff, guys. Hope to see more soon. Glad to know that I don't have the only group that finds it hard to play after some of the descriptive text in these adventures.  Cheers!


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## Abciximab

Ipissimus said:
			
		

> Great stuff, guys. Hope to see more soon. Glad to know that I don't have the only group that finds it hard to play after some of the descriptive text in these adventures.  Cheers!




Hey! Another one! Glad to hear you're enjoying it Ipissimus (Is that a Genus for bugs? Moths? Something like that?) 

Yeah we have issues. 



> the shade removed a cloak and hung it on the wall near the door, and then he abruptly cocked his head and looked upwards




When I read this part, they were already so wound up about other things, every little thing was setting them off and it was getting difficult to follow the descriptions of what they were seeing. High Cleric actually had to ask me to describe it again but omit any references to cocking of the head.


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## Ipissimus

Abciximab said:
			
		

> Hey! Another one! Glad to hear you're enjoying it Ipissimus (Is that a Genus for bugs? Moths? Something like that?)
> 
> Yeah we have issues.





I can't find the embarrassed smilie but I'm afraid you've caught me in a bit of vanity on my part (and an in joke).

I think it was Crowley who theorized 'Ipissimus' as a 'level of sorcerer above God'.   

But don't worry too much about my sanity. I am crazy, of course, but not that crazy.


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## Abciximab

Ipissimus said:
			
		

> I can't find the embarrassed smilie but I'm afraid you've caught me in a bit of vanity on my part (and an in joke).
> 
> I think it was Crowley who theorized 'Ipissimus' as a 'level of sorcerer above God'.
> 
> But don't worry too much about my sanity. I am crazy, of course, but not that crazy.




Ok, just looked it up. The Moth genus is Episimus. Hey, on this board using a term that describes an epic level sorcerer is completely normal. Using the name of a platelet aggregation inhibitor on the other hand...

I think many of us in this hobby are in the same boat, we like to think of it as, "Crazy in a good way". Others may disagree of course...


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## Ipissimus

I figured, knowing Crowley, it'd mean something in Latin. Turns out I was right. Apparently it's from the Latin 'Altissimus' which means 'highest'. So much Latin saturating scientific culture that I'm sure it's been used in various forms a whole bunch of times.


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## Peteinmaine

*etymology*

My character is named for Bootsy Collins basist for P-funk.  I got to see George Clinton and Pfunk at lollapalooza in the mid nineties.  However I still think Warren Zevon was my most prized show!!


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## Abciximab

> My character is named for Bootsy Collins basist for P-funk.




That explains the hat...

Once you hit epic levels you can go by Bootzilla.  

Of course tonight he may end up being the Meat Shield for the Soul Spark.


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## High Cleric

I did once have a character for Buck Dharma from BOC. Luckily, as a bard, he didn't make it too long.
When Abixicab (that isn't right, I know) mentioned it, I thought it was Eptesicus he was talking about (a genus of bat). There is however an actual genus called Eidolon 9more info than anyone needed)....

Glad to be helpin the count on the new Hot Thread.


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## Abciximab

Bootsy – 5th/1st Level Gnome Sorcerer/Fighter.
Celtir – 6th Level Elven Cleric.
Frankie – 6th Level Dwarven Barbarian.
Tristan – 6th Level Human Paladin.
Wencis – 6th Level Aasimar Incarnate.

*The Graveyard Shift. Part 1*​
It was dark in the room where Frankie stood watch over his companions. They had retreated back to the room with the beds they had found on the first floor to rest. The seven beds were musty from the years of neglect, but once they stripped the moldy bedding, they were more appealing then the cold stone floor. 

Finding this place more than a little creepy, Frankie had kept his greataxe in hand throughout his entire watch. As he was checking the blade for the hundredth time he thought he saw movement from the corner of his eye. Readying his axe, he rose to confront whatever it might be. What he saw confused him and he paused for just a moment. Hovering there before him the transparent torso of a beautiful Drow female. Frankie’s jaw dropped as she smiled for just a moment and then the flesh of her face seemed to melt away and the suddenly screaming skull lunged at him as if to bite at his face. Frankie winced as its distended jaws approached his face and just as it seemed it would sink its teeth into his flesh it disappeared.

“Wake up! Wake up! We have a… a situation here!”

The companions quickly jumped out of their beds, grabbing the weapons they kept close at hand and looked around franticly. Seeing nothing they looked to Frankie.

“It was here, right in front of me, a free-roaming, vaporous, full-torso apparition.”

Bootsy shook his head as he climbed back into bed, “You were dreaming. Wake me when whatever passes for morning in this place actually arrives.”

Frankie turned and hefted his axe, “Are you suggesting I was asleep on watch?”

Celtir stepped forward and raised his hands to calm Frankie. “No one is suggesting such a thing, but whatever was here is gone now. We’ll continue our watches as planned and hopefully nothing more will come of it.”

As his companions returned to their beds, Frankie cast a suspicious eye about the place and resumed his watch.

----------​
Having refreshed themselves as much as possible in such a dismal place, the companions returned to where they had left off. Passing the charnel pits once again, they came to the far end of the room where they had broken through one of the stone doors. Beyond was a small square room, much like the one at the other end of the walkway. Stone stairs descended from the two doors and between the two sets of stairs was an iron spiral staircase going up.

As Tristan stepped onto the first iron step, there was a flash and a loud bang.

“Are you ok?” Celtir asked.

“Well, my ears are ringing, but beyond that it’s nothing serious,” Tristan said as he continued up the stairs.

Reaching the top, the companions arrived in a short hall that widened into a massive chamber. Closest to the stairs were stone pews. On the far end of the room was a stone stage and in front of that was a huge stone table that was at least ten feet long. Rusty shackles hung from the four corners of the table. Three smaller stone desks and chairs were arranged between the dais and the pews. Two stone doors, both open, stood near each other on the northern wall and a closed door was farther to the east on that same wall. A shut stone door was set on the southern wall, not far from where they stood.

The companions spread out as they entered to examine the room. Frankie and Celtir had just enough time to see the rooms beyond the open doors were filled with books, when the air suddenly crackled with power and three amorphous creatures glided into view. A roiling cloud of blurry blackness darted from under the eastern table and engulfed Tristan before he could even react. A rotting stench preceded a red-tinged gray vapor as it slid out of one of the open doors and tried to do the same to Frankie. He quickly dodged to the side and slashed at the ooze with his axe. Celtir found himself under attack as well and leapt to the east as a writhing wormlike form of blackness slithered out of the other door. 

As Tristan pulled himself free and slashed at the creature, Wencis and his Soul spark attacked the creature that had had engulfed the Paladin as well. Bootsy ran up to add his contribution and the creature boiled away as a sheet of flame covered it. 

Even as this one creature disappeared another took its place. An insubstantial humanoid shape emerged from the dais and slashed the Soul Spark with its claw-like hands. 

Celtir found himself pursued by one of the creatures. He fired his bow at the creature as it advanced on him time and again, he finally found himself boxed into a corner. He quickly opened the door in the northeastern corner and stepped through, hoping to avoid the creature, but it slid through the doorway before he could close it. He raised his holy symbol and a burst of light filled the rooms healing his companion and searing the Shadow that attacked the Soul Spark.

Frankie found himself in the same boat as Celtir, constantly retreating as the amorphous blob tried to engulf him. Though the creatures seemed easy enough to hit, his axe seemed to slide right through the ooze, blunting the effects of his powerful blows. He focused on adding more brute strength to his blows, rather than finesse. Finally, as he was running out of places to go, his axe slid through the creature and it seemed to melt away to nothing.

The Shadow clawed at the Soul Spark again, draining away more of its strength. The Soul Spark responded with blasts of energy. A few seemed to pass right through the creature but most seemed to sear the Shadow. Wencis called forth a light that cast the entire room in bright light and then attacked with his hammer.

Their own opponents destroyed, Frankie and Tristan helped where they could and the companions finally felt they had gained the upper hand. One more blast from the Soul Spark was all it took and the Shadow was destroyed. At almost the same time, Celtir’s arrows finally finished the ooze that had pursued him through two rooms.

Their opponents defeated, the companions turned to examine the contents of the three rooms they found themselves in. In the first, they found little beyond the stone furnishings. The second room had a small stone font on a slender stand near the door. Beyond that, along the northern wall, a stone desk and chair were set. The western wall was dominated by carved bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. Part of one shelf was fashioned into a scroll rack.

In the third room, bookshelves were carved into the southern wall and two smaller sets were carved from the northern wall. Stone desks also jutted from the northern wall, each with a stone chair in front of it. A pair of similar chairs faced each other near the middle of the room. A small font on a slender stand occupied the southeastern corner. There was a door along the eastern wall and just to the north of that door, an iron spiral staircase rose into the ceiling. 

A thorough search of all the rooms uncovered many interesting items. In the study, they found a magical pair of black silky gloves, a scroll of Identify and a small monocle. They also found a few interesting texts discussing the methods of creating magical mirrors and a rambling journal by a man named Maroe. Within the journal were what appeared to be the mad ravings of a man bent on revenge against the Nobles of Pedestal through the creation of a magical disease. 

In the library the only interesting text was a spellbook, also the property of Maroe. Within the book Celtir found a list of words written in a language he could not understand, though the Elven equivalent seemed to be written at the bottom of the page. 

Their search complete, the companions gathered in the library. While Bootsy identified the various items they had found, the companions discussed their next move. 

“Up or doors?” asked Wencis, indicating the stairs and the two doors, one in the library and one in the audience hall, that they had yet to open. 

It was quickly decided to see what was beyond the doors. The plan of action having been decided, they turned to Bootsy who seemed intrigued by what he had found. “This monocle is used to help Identify magical items, very useful to us, since none of us know the appropriate spell to do so.” This announcement was met with much enthusiasm as the companions pulled out the many items they carried that they knew to be magical, but were unsure of their function.

Trying to cover more ground the companions split up to open both doors, but found that they both led to different areas of the same massive chamber. The smell of rich earth suffused what appeared to be a graveyard. Soft, dark soil made up the floor beneath their feet. Rows of graves stood in perfect lines, marked not by tombstones but by simple stone stakes etched with Elvish runes. A stone building, its walls covered in etched death symbols stood in the southeast corner. To the east a stone ledge overlooked the graveyard and a carved stairway, its steps broad and shallow provided access to it. A rounded, natural looking ceiling loomed overhead. Flowstone formations jutted from the dirt or hung from the ceiling, one forming a natural column. Once again the companions spread out to examine their surroundings.

Celtir and Tristan stepped up to the mausoleum to open the door as the others examined the graves. As the door to the mausoleum opened, they heard a grating wail reverberate throughout the room and the temperature suddenly dropped. Turning toward where Wencis was examining the graves behind them, they saw a baleful figure with burning red eyes and bathed in darkness, rise from a grave. All three companions called to Bootsy and Frankie who were examining the graves in the far western portion of the room. 

Hammer and arrow both passed harmlessly through the creature as Bootsy and Frankie ran up to assist their allies. The wraith stepped forward and slashed at Frankie but the Dwarf was too quick and dodged out of the way. Striking back with his axe, Frankie was dismayed to see it pass right through the creature. Tristan slashed at the Wraith, but his blade passed right through, without harming the creature as well. 

Readying his hammer to strike once again, Wencis was shocked when a hunched corpse quietly slid out of the loose earth, barely disturbing the soil of a grave right next to him. It had long white hair, dusky skin and bulging, lidless eyes. Dirt caked its body and its mouth had been sewn shut. Silently the creature raised its arms and smashed Wencis, quite literally, into the ground. In the blink of an eye, Wencis found himself trapped in a shallow grave. 

Celtir ran toward the creatures, raised his holy symbol and called on the power of Solonor once again to destroy the undead creatures before him and a burst of positive energy seared the flesh of both creatures. Missiles from one of Bootsy’s wands flew unerringly at the incorporeal wraith striking it in the chest. Tristan’s blade slashed at the corpse-like creature as the Soul Spark burned it with soul energy, eager to destroy the creature that had entombed its master. 

Pushing away the urge to panic, Wencis focused his thoughts on escaping from his earthen prison. Using all the strength he could muster, Wencis was able to rock slightly back and forth, which was enough to allow him to pull his arms up by his head as the soil around him was loosened by his movements. 

The battle up above was going well for the companions. Frankie swung around and his axed sliced through the corpse creature and the upper and lower halves of its body dropped to the ground separately. Immediately after it fell, a magical burst from Celtir and a slash from Tristan finished the Wraith.

Gathering around the spot where they last saw Wencis, they could tell he was working himself free. The companions looked at each other, looked at the progress Wencis was making, then, with an unspoken agreement, they all watched as he dug himself out. It took him slightly less than thirty seconds for him to pull himself all the way out of the hole. 


Spitting out dirt and wiping the grime from his face he looked at his companions, gathered around him with smiles on their faces. “Thanks for the help there guys,” he said with a wry smile.

Celtir laughed, “Bah, we knew you’d get out. We’d have been there for you if we had any doubt.”

After some quick healing, Celtir and Wencis went to reexamine the Mausoleum. 

Tristan saw where they were headed and called after them, “Don’t do anything sacrilegious.”

The two of them nodded, smiled and waved back to acknowledge they had heard him. 

Wencis looked concerned for a moment and turned to Celtir, “What do you think he considers sacrilegious?”

“We should be fine, Bootsy’s not with us.”

Within the mausoleum were two great sarcophagi, their lids carved to resemble a Drow male and female lying in state. They stood atop stone biers on each side of the small chamber. The air was musty and full of dust.

The Stone lids pivoted easily but remained connected to the coffins they sealed. The one with the carving of the male was empty. The other contained a breathtakingly beautiful Drow female covered in a shiny burial cloth and dressed in regal Drow finery. A quick examination revealed some fine jewelry as well. A quick look was all they got as they heard a cry from Bootsy and Frankie warning them of danger. Running out of the mausoleum they found that Frankie and Bootsy had gone up the stairs to the overlook. 

The overlook was also a natural cavern containing flowstone. It was also home to at least two creatures. Tristan had already run up the steps and there he saw two creature attacking Frankie and Bootsy. Bootsy was being grappled by a gaunt humanoid that had drawn and desiccated flesh crusted with flaky material. It was gibbering madly and apparently sucking blood from a wound in Bootsy’s arm.

The creature attacking Frankie was a large, emaciated, hairless, salt encrusted giant. It was at least eight feet tall, with sunken and blazing eyes. Its parched and gasping mouth was pulled back from yellowed teeth. Judging from the amount of blood covering Frankie, it also packed quite a punch. Even though he had been sorely wounded in the creature’s initial rush, Frankie stood his ground, frothing at the mouth and striking back with his axe. Just as Tristan arrived to help, he noticed Bootsy, who seemed almost as angry as Frankie, activate a wand. His view of what was happening to his companions was suddenly lost when he was engulfed in the ball of fire that followed.


----------



## Abciximab

*The Graveyard Shift. Part 2*​
An instant later the Fireball was gone and he saw everyone, except Celtir and Wencis who were still below, had been caught in the Fireball. He also noticed that everyone, including their opponents, had survived with only minimal damage from the blast. 

Bootsy vented some of his anger toward the wand. “What the hell kind of weak-assed Fireball was that!” He yelled as he flung the wand away in frustration. Bootsy refocused his energy toward trying to break the death-grip this creature seemed to have on him. Compounding the problem, Bootsy could feel himself tiring from blood-loss as the creature drained more of his blood. Seeing that Bootsy was in rough shape from the tentacle faced creature that was attacking him, Tristan quickly ran over and healed some of his wounds.

Fearing for the life of their companions, Wencis dismissed his Soul Spark so that he might refocus his soul energies as Celtir backed up to get a clear shot with a spell at the undead creatures up above. 

Frankie was on his last legs. One more hit from this large creature would kill him and it had yet to miss. Torn between staying and dieing or retreating to fight another day, Frankie finally made the painful choice and withdrew, jumping off the cliff in his retreat.

Casting forth two bolts of holy energy, Celtir was aiming for the creature that was grappling with Bootsy. Being so far away and on lower ground, he found it hard to pick his target and ended up hitting Bootsy with both bolts. Since Bootsy was neither undead nor extra-planar, he suffered no ill effects.

Finally arriving at the top of the stair Wencis charged his hammer with soul energy and crushed the skull of the creature that held Bootsy. Free of its grasp, Bootsy looked to the giant undead creature that remained. He noticed some of its wounds seemed to be closing. He dusted himself off a little before launching a Scorching Ray into the creatures face. 

Tristan and Wencis both attacked the creature as it stepped forward and pummeled the Paladin. Celtir fired two more bolts that both hit the giant creature, searing away some of its flesh. Finally as the creature’s fist slammed into Tristan once again, he brought Merthuvial around in a great arc and struck its head from its shoulders. 

The companions looked around and each seemed surprised to find all the others were still standing. Even Frankie was wearily making his way back up the stairs.

With the combat ended, Bootsy looked to the corpses of the creatures. “I hope these guys have something good.” He was extremely disappointed.

A quick search revealed a stone door in the northern wall and a small pool hidden behind some pillars. Discouraged by the lack of treasure and noticing Tristan was moving to examine the door, Celtir and Wencis returned to the mausoleum to collect the jewelry and the fine silken shroud.

Up above Tristan opened the door and found a cool and damp room that was nothing more than a narrow ledge that ran around a twenty foot wide pit that dropped into darkness. The air smelled of salt water. Looking over the edge, he saw an iron grate about twenty feet down. The silence of the room was broken by the sound of one of Bootsy’s acid flasks shattering on the grate. Unsure of what to make of this place, they left to rejoin the others and return to the iron stairwell in the library.

At the top of the stairs they found an oddly shaped room with mirrors. The western wall of the room stepped westward forming an alcove and a number of smaller wall surfaces. Embedded in or formed from these smaller walls were six large mirrors. There was a door in the northwestern corner. Most everyone averted their eyes from the mirrors, except for Celtir who stepped up to the closest one. “Show me Fadheela,” he commanded. For a moment nothing happened. 

After that moments pause, there was a loud grinding sound as glass extruded from the westernmost mirror. Two mirrors that flanked the alcove made similar but quieter sounds. A hulking figure formed of glass emerged quickly into the western alcove. Glass spiders boiled forth from the flanking mirrors. As they rose, their translucent interiors glowed with a faint blue light.

Reacting quickly, Bootsy summoned his magical energies and faded from sight. The others attacked. Frankie's axe smashed against one of the spiders as Tristan and Wencis attacked the large creature with sword and hammer. Celtir set off a burst of sound that caused a small amount of damage to two of the creatures. The spiders bit at Frankie and Wencis, causing minor injuries, but the large creature pummeled Tristan with two mighty blows that left his face bloodied and his ribs broken. 

As the others continued their attack Bootsy moved to the door and opened it. Beyond he saw a short, narrow hallway that ended in another door. Confident that there was more than one escape route, Bootsy turned to assist in the ongoing combat.

Frankie kept up his attacks against one of the spiders and cracks were starting to show where his axe was striking the creature. The creature was biting back, but Frankie seemed unconcerned with the small wounds inflicted by the spider. Wencis struck at the other spider, slamming it with his hammer infused with soul energy. Celtir switched back to his bow, hoping to inflict what damage he could. 

The large glass creature was pounding Tristan over and over again. The amount of damage he had sustained would surely have dropped a man with less stamina. A bright spark jolting one of the spiders preceded Bootsy’s return to the visible spectrum. The spider shattered into a million shards that seemed to dissolve on the floor.

The spider in front of Frankie finally shattered beneath his axe and he turned to strike the large creature. Seeing Tristan sorely wounded Celtir called upon Solonor and a positive energy burst lit the room, healing some of the wounds all of his companions had suffered.

With all their attacks focused on the large creature, cracks were finally starting to show as Bootsy stepped forward and zapped it with a Shocking Grasp. Seemingly angered by the attack, the construct lashed out with both fists at Bootsy but was unable to land a blow on the quick gnome. 

Seeing an opening, Tristan brought his blade down on the head of the construct and it shattered into tiny shards that disappeared as had those of the spiders.

Bootsy let out a breath. “I’ve got nothing left in the arsenal. I think it may be time for a break.” 

End of Session 10.


----------



## Abciximab

Session notes

Some tough fights in that one. I got a few of them down to single digits and even got Tristan to -4 (Thank goodness for Die Hard). 

Even got to grapple the gnome. I think that combat showed why Bootsy’s collateral damage doesn’t bother anyone (as a player). He’s not vindictive, he’s just chaotic. Showing that he was willing to suffer the damage right along with anyone else reinforces that sentiment. It was only a coincidence the Fireball did very little damage.

Frankie finally got to deal some power attack damage, which helped considerably with all the DR they were facing. 

Celtir (and by this I mean High Cleric) loves the Spell Compendium. Every game he seems to come up with something I never heard of. It certainly helps Clerics be more offensive, which when combined with the Positive Burst healing allows him to put his spells to good use.

Tristan is definitely not afraid to die fighting. Even at -4 (Then healed into the single digits) never left the front line. Considering his last character stole everything that wasn’t nailed down and considered the party treasure his own (everyone else just carried it for him) he’s doing great with the paladin.

Wencis. Well I’ve already said I have no idea what this character does. But his hammer overcame most of the DR faced that night, and his ability to add electrical damage helped considerably as well.


----------



## Peteinmaine

*Wencis*



			
				Abciximab said:
			
		

> Session notes
> 
> Some tough fights in that one. I got a few of them down to single digits and even got Tristan to -4 (Thank goodness for Die Hard).
> 
> Even got to grapple the gnome. I think that combat showed why Bootsy’s collateral damage doesn’t bother anyone (as a player). He’s not vindictive, he’s just chaotic. Showing that he was willing to suffer the damage right along with anyone else reinforces that sentiment. It was only a coincidence the Fireball did very little damage.
> 
> Frankie finally got to deal some power attack damage, which helped considerably with all the DR they were facing.
> 
> Celtir (and by this I mean High Cleric) loves the Spell Compendium. Every game he seems to come up with something I never heard of. It certainly helps Clerics be more offensive, which when combined with the Positive Burst healing allows him to put his spells to good use.
> 
> Tristan is definitely not afraid to die fighting. Even at -4 (Then healed into the single digits) never left the front line. Considering his last character stole everything that wasn’t nailed down and considered the party treasure his own (everyone else just carried it for him) he’s doing great with the paladin.
> 
> Wencis. Well I’ve already said I have no idea what this character does. But his hammer overcame most of the DR faced that night, and his ability to add electrical damage helped considerably as well.




Aside from no one knowing what exactly Wencis does, he makes lousy conversation as a burrowing mammal.  I can't believe I wasted the spell like ability


----------



## Ipissimus

Bootsy shouldn't be disappointed for long.


----------



## mundinironhand

Peteinmaine said:
			
		

> Aside from no one knowing what exactly Wencis does, he makes lousy conversation as a burrowing mammal.  I can't believe I wasted the spell like ability




Playing with this group i'm finding that we're more about power than finesse.  which makes me wonder about which soulmelds to shape.  the soulspark sucked up 3 hits from the shade each draining 3 strenght!  considering all the damage he soacks up, i find it hard to not use him.  with all the dr we're facing the holy hammer +2 seems like a solid choice and the incarnate avatar boosts my armor by 3.  leaving only one choice left, which so far has been guantlets that let me charge my attacks with electricity, adding a wopping 3d6 of damage to one attack as a move action.  other choices i've considered is a mantle of flame that deals damage if i'm hit, a shirt that gives me SR between, or the apparition ribbon that lets me reroll any miss chance on incorperial beings.  most likely once the soul spar gets to a very damaged point i'll unshape the meld and rapidly bind the mantle of flame.  

Playing an incarnatre is interesting but not my niche, still considering either a whisper gnome theif, who can silence enemy spell casters, a goliath fighter with fling enemy(both in races of stone), a whisper gnome shadow mage(in the same book as binders and truespeakers), a sword sage(book of nine swords), or some kind of monk looking to prestige class as a shadow sun ninja(book of nine swords)  have also considered a druid no idea on race yet.


----------



## High Cleric

Wencis' post (previous by mundin ironhand) was essentially correct - power over finesse. The Spell Compendium definitely enhances the cleric offensive capabilites, Light of Venya/Mercuria etc essentially act as the equivalent of a mage's scorching ray while the holy/axiomatic/anarchic storm is the equivalent of a fireball (area effect blast) against outsiders and undead. Helps keeping up with the Joneses...


----------



## Peteinmaine

*Wednesday's comin*

Does anyone smell somethin' Burnin!!


----------



## High Cleric

Just keep it up and I won't be Curin yer Critical Wounds...


----------



## Abciximab

*Keepin' the Cure Light on tap.*



			
				Peteinmaine said:
			
		

> Does anyone smell somethin' Burnin!!




*Sniff, Sniff.*

No, must be something on your end, better check your electrical connections. 

So I expect we'll finish up Sinister Spire and possibly start Module #3 (whose title shall remain unmentioned in case the players haven't already looked it up) on Weds. 

As one who likes to create/print maps for ease of use and speed of play, just let me say, getting the maps ready for Mod #3 really sucked and I'm not done yet. I still have 3 more areas to finish (and I'm doing them all the quick and lazy way).


----------



## Abciximab

I found yet more proof we are not the only group reduced to preteens during game play by odd names and phrases.



> And then there’s what happens during the game. Like poor Teddy trying to tell us a story about how we managed to safely stowaway on a ship without Captain Biem or his men finding us.
> 
> “Captain BM?” someone would question and that was it. We were reduced to eight-year-old boys. “I hope we’re not on the poop deck!”
> 
> From the article - The Secret Lives of Dungeon Masters by Shelly Mazzanoble
> 
> Found here - http://www.wizards.com/default.asp?x=dnd/drcw/20080516




Yeah, that’s how it starts and then it’s all downhill. It’s probably worse in a group with no females.

We are gaming tonight, so the new update should be posted by the weekend. Hopefully.


----------



## Ipissimus

Abciximab said:
			
		

> It’s probably worse in a group with no females.




Do not underestimate the femfolk, for they are subtle and quick to punnage.


----------



## Abciximab

Bootsy – 6th/1st Level Gnome Sorcerer/Fighter.
Celtir – 7th Level Elven Cleric.
Frankie – 7th Level Dwarven Barbarian.
Tristan – 6th Level Human Paladin.
Wencis – 6th Level Aasimar Incarnate.

*“Dawn take you all…”*​
“Another night of creepy figments in a creepy place,” Frankie said with a sigh as he sat down on one of the musty beds and pulled out a small vial.

Wencis, who was giving some thought as to what would be the best way to shape his soul energy for the day, looked over at Frankie. “Yeah, but at least they’re harmless. What are you doing there?”

“I found this on one of the Drow we fought at the entry way, I figure it’s the same poison that put Bootsy to sleep. I know it won’t be much use against the undead we’ve been facing, but I’m hoping we’ll find this Fadheela today,” Frankie said as he started to apply the oily substance to his blade.

“Well, be careful, just because it’s on your weapon doesn’t mean it won’t affect you… or us for that matter.”

Frankie smiled as he used his thumb to spread the oil along the blade, “Don’t you worry, I know how to handle my axe and even if I am accidentally exposed to it, we Dwarves are… Ow!”

Wencis watched as Frankie pulled his bleeding thumb from the axe blade and then slowly slumped down onto the bed and started snoring. “.”

----------​
“Do you think he’ll be all right by himself?” Tristan asked.

They were back in the short hall Bootsy had found during the intense combat with the glass creatures. Bootsy nodded, “Oh yeah, there doesn’t seem to be much that wanders around this place. Everything we’ve come across seems to have stayed in its own space. He’ll be fine. Hell, he’s probably safer down there asleep and alone than he would be up here armed and ready with us.”

All the companions paused for a moment as this sank in. Once again, the Gnome was probably right.

Beyond the door was a small rectangular chamber. A large set of double doors, banded in silvery metal and made of black stone, dominated the southern wall of the otherwise empty chamber. Another simple stone door, similar to the one they had entered was set in the western wall.

After a quick debate, the companions moved to the dark double doors. The doors opened into a square room that was bare except for a low, dry font in its center. A small door was set in the center of the western wall and a dusty black curtain stretched across an archway to the south. 

Standing off to one side of the archway, Tristan used Merthuvial to move the curtain aside and peered into the room. The evil that filled the room beyond the curtain was palpable. Complex and entrancing patterns of silvery bones and skulls filled the black walls and floors. Flanking the doorway, just inside the room, sinister violet flames danced in twisted oversized iron braziers that were covered in thorns and adorned with shining metal skulls. Atop a low, rectangular dais on the far side of the room squatted a basalt alter, covered in layers of dried blood that failed to conceal a shiny pair of rams horns. Two statues flanking the altar portrayed identical corpulent figures that had cloven hooves, bat-like wings and a ram’s head. In one fist, each statue clutched a skull topped rod of black iron. The eye sockets of the rods’ skulls gleamed in the light. 

Celtir, looking over Tristan’s shoulder, recognized the figure. “Orcus, Demon Prince of the Undead.”

Using his blade to open the curtain more fully, Tristan stepped into the room. As he did, malefic violet figures of flame crackled as they leapt from the braziers, toppling those containers and spreading hot coals on the floor. Even as their burning fists slammed into Tristan, an amorphous cloud of darkness broken only by two points of blazing violet rose from the bloody altar. A breeze moved toward it as if it were drawing in air. It hissed as it flew toward the Paladin and Tristan found he could no longer breathe as the creature slashed at him with an incorporeal claw. Holding his breath, the Paladin attacked one of the burning creatures as Celtir started to pray for assistance from Solonor and Wencis reshaped his soul energy. 

Bootsy cast and quickly ran over the spilled coals to deliver a Shocking Grasp to the same creature Tristan had struck. Luckily, he was quick enough that his clothes did not catch fire as he touched the creature and it disappeared in a burst of flame. 

The fire creature and the wraith-like creature both lashed out at the Paladin once again, one creature burned him while the others mere touch seemed to eat away at his stamina. Tristan turned to face the black wraith and slashed at it with his blade.

As Celtir finished his prayer, a creature composed of water appeared near the remaining fiery creature. Its presence extinguished some of the hot coals on the ground as the elemental reached for the burning creature in an attempt to grapple it. The fire creature was too quick and lashed out at the water elemental. There was a hiss of steam as fire met water.

Bootsy, moving quickly over the coals once again, delivered another Shocking Grasp to the fire creature.

Finishing his adjustments to his energies, Wencis ran into the room and struck the same creature. The force of his blow and the burst of electricity he had charged it with finished the creature and it disappeared in a burst of flame as had its ally.  

As the Water Elemental moved about the room, extinguishing what flames it could, Celtir called upon Solonor once again and a burst of energy healed his companions and burned at the undead creature.

The companions converged on the wraith as it drained even more of Tristan’s vitality. Most of their weapons and a Scorching Ray from Bootsy all passed through the creature leaving it unharmed, but another burst of energy from Celtir finally destroyed it.

With combat over, the companions spread out to see if anything useful could be found in this shrine of evil.

Celtir stopped Tristan as he moved towards the altar. “Are you ok? It seemed the touch of that creature left you looking rather haggard and drained.”

“I’m fine,” he answered with a smile as he held up his magical blade, “Merthuvial was able to restore my health.” 

Bootsy moved to the middle of the room and cast.  He gazed about the chamber, seeking any magic within the room that might be revealed by his spell. He directed Wencis’ attention to the statues of Orcus, “Check the head of each rod held by the statues. It would appear there is some magic contained within each of them.”

Using his hammer of soul energy, Wencis broke them free and found within each a different colored gem. One was a red ruby, the other a clear diamond. Examining them with his monocle, Bootsy was unable to ascertain their properties.

Through one of the side doors they had passed, they found a small room with stone benches carved from the walls as well as a few black velvet cloaks hanging from the pegs. Each of the companions took a cloak thinking they may find them useful. 

Through the other door they had passed, they found a very short hall with stairs going down. “Do we know where these come out?” Asked Wencis.

Tristan thought for a moment, “No. Should we?”

“Well, all the stairs we’ve come across have been up. Maybe finding one going down to an area we haven’t found is significant.”

Tristan nodded thoughtfully as he stepped on the stair. The black iron stair shuddered and groaned as he climbed onto it. “It feels unstable.” As he moved to step onto the next stair there was a flash and Tristan once again felt drained, but between Merthuvial and Celtir, Tristan was soon feeling better and ready to continue down the stairs. 

Tristan winced as the metal groaned and shook with his every move. “We should go one at a time,” he started to say when something zipped past him, sliding down the rail.

“We should go quickly you mean,” Bootsy said as he slid past the cautious Paladin. His ride was cut short when the railing and the stair ended abruptly and he dropped the remaining distance to the ground. “Perfect!” he called up. “Just a short drop at the end.”

One by one, the companions slowly followed him down, jumping the last fifteen feet to land on a debris covered floor in a narrow hallway.

Sconces mounted on the walls contained flickering green lights that threw unsettling illumination down the hallway. Alcoves on each side of the passage held stone sculptures. A constant, thin cry trilled from somewhere within the northern alcoves. 

Tristan’s features wrinkled in disgust as he passed the first set of stone statues. One was a male Drow crouched low, his ears and nose still flesh. The other was a male Duergar with a hammer raised. His eyes, still flesh, squirmed madly within stony sockets. 

Wencis moved up next to the paladin and frowned. “Surely even the evil residents of Pedestal don’t deserve this.” 

With nothing to reverse the state of these unfortunates, they moved down the hall, noting each petrified creature as they passed. A female Drow with hands of flesh, palms upward as if in supplication and another standing on one foot, her flesh mouth still keening. In one of the last two alcoves there was an angelic being that appeared to be struggling to launch itself into the air, its white feathered wings still soft. The other held two Drow children gazing upwards as if in awe, their pointing fingers still wriggling.

At the end of the hall was a small square room with four more artfully posed statues, each stood in one of the four corners. Each wall had a door in the center, including the one they had entered. To the east of the southern door was the statue of an armored humanoid with a vipers head and to the west of that was a male human with snakes for arms. To the east of the northern door was a willowy female with upturned eyes and a sneering mouth full of pointed teeth. On that door’s western side was a female creature that had a snake tail instead of human legs. The western door was intermittently outlined with brilliant green light, each time accompanied by a sound like the discharge of electricity. 

Bootsy found the door to the east locked. A quick discussion and the companions decided against breaking it down for now. Through the northern door they found a narrow shaft that pierced the floor. It was just wide enough to sit atop without falling in and the whole room reeked of the foulness that issued from it. Bootsy shut the door and shrugged, “Hey, even evil necromancers need to go to the privy sometime, right?”

After readying themselves for what might lay beyond, Tristan opened the western door. 

The wide chamber contained several statues of Drow warriors in battle poses. Directly across the room, a wide alcove held two thick iron rods that had a bolt of emerald electricity dancing between them. Due to the statues, it was hard to see the rest of the space clearly, but it seemed like a couple of walls were lined with stone counters upon which were scattered various objects, parchments and other oddments. A slightly open curtain covered what must have been an alcove in the southeastern corner. A few low grunts from deeper in the room let the companions know they were not alone. Off to one side, Tristan saw four muscular humanoids with gray, scaly skin and eyeless sockets in its face, each snarling and brandishing a greataxe. 

Almost directly ahead he saw a swollen horror that might have once been human fix its eyes upon him. Distended veins sprawled across its livid skin. Scraps of rotting cloth were all that covered its blood-bloated body. 

Celtir, once again looking over Tristan’s shoulder murmured a quick prayer and all four of the gray skinned creatures were rocked by a blast of sound that stunned two of them. 

The blood-bloated, hulking creature lurched forward and pummeled Tristan with its massive fists. Tristan channeled holy energy through his blade and his answering blow caused blood to spray the entire room, covering many of the companions with gore. Moving into a better position, Bootsy accepted a blow from the hulk and let loose a ball of fire that filled most of the two chambers, killing all of the gray creatures and singing the hulking creature and most of the companions. 

Wencis also moved in and launched his hammer at the hulking creature, the electricity from his soul hammer causing its body to spasm involuntarily. 

Attacks from all the companions caused more blood to spray from the creature and then, with a high, harsh screech, She appeared. Coming up behind the Bloodhulk slid a creature whose torso fused into the giant coils of a snake. The creature’s upper body was scaled like the lower, but humanoid in shape and obviously female. Its head was crowned with a mass of writhing, hissing snakes instead of hair. They had finally found Fadheela.

The companions all resisted the urge to meet her gaze and quickly averted their eyes. 

Tristan tried to focus on striking the hulking creature in front of him, but it moved at just the wrong moment as he went to attack and he met Fadheela’s gaze. In the blink of an eye, there was yet another statue in the room. 

Bootsy, unwilling to be turned into a garden Gnome, closed his eyes and dropped a ball of fire right at his feet. All combatants were bathed in fire. 

Charging his war hammer once again, Wencis was able to stay focused on the hulking creature and even as it dropped to the floor after his blow struck it down, he did not meet the gaze of Fadheela. Thinking quickly, Celtir stepped forward while drawing forth an arrow. Focused only on the floor at his feet and his prayers to Solonor, he infused the arrow with magical darkness and dropped it at his feet. 

Hearing Bootsy preparing to cast again, both Celtir and Wencis started shouting, “It’s down! The Bloodhulk is down!” Already unseen in the magical darkness, Bootsy turned himself invisible and moved through the doorway. 

A wave of fear crashed over the three remaining companions, but all held their ground. Keeping his eyes downcast, Wencis carefully made his way through the darkness until he was finally free of it. Focusing his eyes on the lower half of her body, Wencis boldly stepped forward and struck Fadheela with his hammer. 

Moving to the side until he was free of the darkness, Bootsy kept his back to where he thought Fadheela might be. He quickly cast a spell, charging his hands with electricity. 

Celtir was moving cautiously through the darkness trying to get a bearing on where she might be when another wave of fear crashed over him. This time he fled, cowering and cursing against one of the doors flanked by two of Fadheela’s “creations”.

As Wencis’ hammer struck again, he heard Bootsy’s battle cry as the Gnome turned and charged at Fadheela with his outstretched hand wreathed in electricity. His battle cry was cut short as he inadvertently met Fadheela’s gaze and was turned to stone. 

Realizing how desperate things were getting, Wencis stayed focused, striking Fadheela once more as he dodged the serpents on the top of her head as they lashed out at him. He struck again, and then thinking she was moving forward to strike with the snakes again, he moved to the side, but she was actually bending down to meet his gaze. 

Another statue for her collection.

Celtir, having regained his composure, mumbled a quick prayer to infuse an arrow with fire. He moved to the edge of the darkness and called out. “Fadheela! We’re just here for the king’s bones! Give them to us and we will let you live!” 

It was all Fadheela could do not to give away her position with hysterical laughter. 

She slid forward and attacked blindly into the darkness, hoping to grab Celtir and drag him out of the relative safety of the darkness, but could not get a hold of him. Having felt the snakes on the top of her head brush against his face with her attack, Celtir gave a grim smile. He knew exactly where her head was. He brought up his bow and loosed his arrow. 

The arrow caught her right between the eyes and continued right through, until just the fletching held the arrow in place where it protruded from the back of her skull. Fadheela didn’t even have time to be surprised as she dropped to the ground.

Celtir stepped out of the darkness and smiled with the satisfaction of a job well done. Moving quickly but efficiently, Celtir searched the bodies and the room, gathering all that he could find. In a small closet he found a stone coffer, a slender gray staff capped with a golden draconic head and a chest. He quickly opened the chest and, digging through the platinum coins, found three vials of viscous oil. Once again he smiled. 

He had thought that she might keep something on hand to turn valuable prisoners back to flesh for questioning if necessary. He hoped he was right. He quickly poured the oil over the Paladin and soon there was one less statue. 

Not long after, the companions were reunited. While Bootsy worked to identify many of the items they had found, he was especially interested in the staff, the others went to open the locked door with a key they had found on Fadheela. Within, was a lot of piled junk, but a quick Detect Magic revealed a magical greataxe buried at the back of the room.

Coming back into Fadheela’s chamber they found Bootsy examining a small gold rod. The head of the rod was an opened fanged mouth closing over a blue agate that resembled a globe. “It’s some type of magical key.”

All eyes turned to the iron rods with the green bolt of electricity arcing back and forth. Taking the golden rod, Celtir approached the device. As he approached the bolt divided into two bolts, which slowly separated in the middle. After about one minute there was a bright flare and the bolts formed a perfect ten foot diameter circle. 

Celtir turned back to his companions, “We better go get Frankie, we wouldn’t want to leave him behind.”

End of Session 11.


----------



## Abciximab

*“…and be stone to you!”*

Session Notes. 

Yeah, Frankies player was absent, he didn’t really poison himself.

I was surprised at our slow pace. We usually can squeeze in three combat encounters per session and this time we only managed two. The combats seemed to take longer than usual. 

I try to keep things moving by limiting the number of times I look things up, which of course means I make a few mistakes here and there but I would rather make a few mistakes and keep the game moving.

In retrospect the Bestow Curse that gave -6 to the Paladins Con score shouldn’t have been overcome with a few Lesser Restoration since the spell states that it can only be removed with a Break Enchantment, Limited Wish, Miracle, Remove Curse, or Wish spell. Also, I had reviewed the whole Gaze attack thing before hand, even scribbled some notes to help me remember things, but completely missed the fact that averting your eyes gives your opponents concealment (20% miss chance). I felt I was missing something, but with just a quick look to double check, I managed to miss it. Oh well, you live and you learn. 

Wencis’ ability to add electrical damage to his hammer attacks helps deal some serious damage. The Paladin finally got to smite some evil. Celtir’s (and Tristan’s) positive energy burst has been really great for healing. And Bootsy got to torch the entire party. 

Again. 

And again.

Oh yeah, Celtir’s Crit that killed Fadheela, great stuff. 

Natural 20. Confirm. Roll for miss (Concealment, he was still in the magical darkness) Success! And he had charged that arrow with a Flaming Burst. Bonus! She only had 15HP left, I think his total damage was 24.


----------



## Abciximab

Bootsy – 6th/1st Level Gnome Sorcerer/Fighter.
Celtir – 7th Level Elven Cleric.
Frankie – 7th Level Dwarven Barbarian.
Tristan – 7th Level Human Paladin.
Wencis – 7th Level Aasimar Incarnate.

*Deliverance*​
The call had come again and once again they were gathered before the pavilion of The Taskmaster. It was happening with such frequency now that Clora was sure that soon they would all be dead. There were too few of them left to work the fields to supply enough food for the fortress and the remaining slaves. They chose the strongest men and now were even taking what few children there were, leaving mostly women and the sick and feeble behind. Their numbers had been reduced to a point where it seemed the Masters were no longer concerned about maintaining the slave population. Whatever was happening within the fortress, the slaves had reached the end of their usefulness to the Masters. Clora looked around as the remaining slaves gathered in front of the Taskmasters tent, forming up in rough lines so that slaves could be selected to “serve the Masters within”. 

Was that a flash from the hill? That often indicated the arrival of new slaves, but they had not seen any new arrivals in quite some time. The Masters had turned their attention elsewhere. They appeared to have other priorities now. Something big was happening within the fortress and whatever it was it did not bode well for the remaining slaves. 

She looked toward the hill, across the stream, from where all new slaves were brought into the small village in the secluded valley where they all lived, worked and often died under the Masters whips. A life of suffering followed by a violent death or even worse, whatever fate befell those chosen to go within the fortress. Better to die out here in the fields under the open sky. Clora had lost all hope and found herself wishing for death to claim her. 

_There on the hill, there is someone there,_ she thought. It looked like a small group, a half a dozen figures maybe. They were too far away to be sure. _Fresh slaves. Our lives have just become even less important._

The Masters were among them now, choosing those they felt would meet their needs within the fortress, whatever they might be. A cry and the sounds of a struggled brought her attention back to the gathering of slaves.

_Oh gods, they’re taking Dhara’s son!_

Dhara and her son had arrived with the last group of slaves brought to the valley over a year ago. Her teenage son had been a hard worker in the fields and their experience as cattle farmers had made them too useful to be killed. Now the Masters had selected him and were trying to drag him away, even as Dhara tried to pull him back. Resisting the Masters was a serious crime for a slave and always brought about terrible punishment to the offenders and any who were perceived as taking part. It was unwise to stand too close to any slave who caused trouble.

Watching Dhara struggle and plead to save the life of her only son, Clora felt tears rolling down her face. She had thought she had none left to shed. Truly, there was no hope, only death. She prayed it would come quickly for them all.

Then, the fletching of a crossbow bolt seemed to sprout from the wooden wall of the pavilion, right next to one of the Masters. A fraction of a second later an arrow took another one of the Masters, the one who was trying to drag off Dhara’s son, through the throat and he dropped to the ground.

Looking back toward the hill she saw a strange Sight. A man in shining armor, wielding a black sword was charging toward them on the back of a huge wolf. Then all hell broke loose as the Masters started to yell and all the slaves dropped to the ground in fear of what might happen.

Clora, unable to contain her curiosity, looked up to see what was happening. One of the masters was casting and the plants and grass around the man on wolf-back started to twist and twine around the wolf’s legs. The other two fired arrows that flew wide of their mark. In the blink of an eye Griffon-Eater appeared. The huge snake sprung from the well and snatched the man from the wolf and started squeezing the life out of him. His large wolf turned and bit at the snake, in an attempt to free the man.

Then she saw the others further back. An Elf appeared from behind The Box, an iron cell where disobedient slaves were punished, left to bake in the heat of the day. The Elf launched another arrow, wounding another of the Masters. Charging up to the group were a Dwarf and a Human, no not Human, there was something about him that seemed different though she could not place it. Further back was a… child? No not a child, a Gnome launching another crossbow bolt.

The wolf was biting at Griffon-Eater over and over, trying to save his master, who was struggling to free himself. It seemed a hopeless cause, fighting against the strength of the great snake. The Dwarf and the Man were attacking another of the Masters with axe and hammer. It seemed their skill would win out, but Clora knew what was to come. More specifically she knew who would come. 

No sooner had the thought entered her mind then she appeared. The Taskmaster stepped from her pavilion to see what was causing the disturbance. Almost as soon as she stepped out, an arrow seemed to pass right through the space she was occupying as if she wasn’t there. Hissing in anger at such impudence from a lesser creature she launched her retaliatory strike. A bolt of lightning flashed through the ranks of slaves, killing two of them instantly. It continued on almost faster than the eye could follow coming within a hairs-breadth of the Elven archer. He seemed a little frazzled from the effects of the bolt but still stood. 

Then two magical bolts flew from the Gnome and struck at the Taskmaster, eliciting even more hissing and cursing. The Dwarf and the Man had finished the Master and were running up to confront the Taskmaster. Axe and hammer seemed to pass right through the image of the Taskmaster and she answered with two rays of flame that burned at the dwarf. Such fools. They didn’t stand a chance. She prayed they would not suffer unnecessarily.

Then something strange happened. A huge ball of fire burst near Griffon-Eater, burning him badly. Distracted by the pain, the snake did not see the wolf as it leapt. Its jaws latched onto the snake’s throat and tore it out. Clora watched in amazement as the horrid snake that had been one of the many banes of their existence, dropped to the ground. Even more amazing, the man who had been wrapped in Griffon-Eaters coils stood up. He was still alive. 

With another hiss, the Taskmaster faded from sight. The man seemed to concentrate for a moment, then rushed forward and appeared to strike something that could not be seen. Could it have been the Taskmaster? Could these people actually harm her? The Dwarf also charged and struck down another one of the masters. The Taskmaster reappeared farther away where she launched a Lightning Bolt at the wolf. It caught the brunt of the bolt but still lived. Another burst of flame roared around the Taskmasters burning her horribly, then a small storm of bright energy seemed to surround her, flashing and flaring, the energy of the storm seemed to burn her even more. After only a few seconds of this, the Taskmaster fell. 

The last remaining Master dropped his bow that he had been using ineffectively against these strangers and drew his scimitar, cutting down one of the chained slaves. The strangers charged him and he quickly joined his fallen allies in death. 

The Elf ran forward, raising his bow above his head and calling out in his native tongue. A small symbol on the bow flashed bright and Clora reflexively closed her eyes as the burst of light filled her vision. When she opened them she could not believe what she saw. The strangers stood victorious, some of their wounds healed by the burst. Garish, the slave who had been struck down by one of the Masters sat up, his wounds completely healed. 

Who where these people who had defeated not just the Masters, but also the Taskmaster and her pet snake? Clora was shocked beyond words and there was something else. Another emotion slowly started to creep into her mind as she watched these people walk among them with a mix of concern and righteous anger etched upon their faces. 

Hope.

----------​
As the slaves dispersed, the companions noted that they seemed to hold the attention of one of the women. Celtir finally approached her. “Greetings, I am Celtir and these are my companions, Wencis, Frankie, Bootsy and Tristan,” he said as he indicated each of his companions in turn. 

“I am Clora,” she answered in a voice choked with emotion. 

Celtir smiled warmly, “Do you speak for these people?”

“They look to me for guidance, though there is little I can offer them.”

“Can you tell me what is going on here?” Celtir asked, as he looked around at the appalling conditions around them.

“We are slaves to the snake-men who live within the castle. It is called Serastis, a horrible place. We raise crops and cattle to feed ourselves and our Masters, though our numbers grow few and we are poorly treated. We will not be able to sustain ourselves much longer.”

Frankie came up behind them. “Humph. You’d think they would take better care of those that supply their food.”

“We have always been driven hard and allowed little rest to leave us too weak to consider escape. None of us knows exactly where we are. All of us were brought here from other locations through a magical portal to this valley. They used to be more careful with our lives, only killing those they felt were too strong or were considered troublesome. Something has changed recently though. Now they take many of us into the castle for some unknown purpose. Many more snake-men have been coming and going from the castle. Whatever horrors that place contains, they seem to be escalating.”

Tristan joined them, his face showing his anger at the treatment of these people. “Well, you are free now. None of you will come to harm you as long as I still live and these snake people will pay for their crimes against you.”

She looked upon the man’s noble features and while her heart wanted to believe his words, she was still filled with too much fear of the Masters. “We appreciate all you have done, but we have nowhere to go. We could not travel far enough or fast enough to get away. The Masters would just hunt us down. We pray for your success, but as long as the snake-men rule castle Serastis, we remain as slaves.”

Tristan just looked at her and gave a grim smile. “You will be free.”

Celtir smiled at her as well, “We have had a long road, is there someplace we could rest?”

“The snake-men have a hard time telling us apart, we may be able to hide you for a time. You can stay in the men’s quarters, there should be plenty of room since most have been taken.”

Celtir placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “I’m sure it will suit our needs. If you have need of us for any reason, you know where to find us. We will be here. We will fight for you.”

Tristan drew Merthuvial from its sheath and brought the blade up in salute, “And we will win.”


----------



## High Cleric

What's that quote from the Dragonlance book?
"None of us are heroes...."

If only Clora knew the truth


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## Abciximab

High Cleric said:
			
		

> What's that quote from the Dragonlance book?
> "None of us are heroes...."
> 
> If only Clora knew the truth




Hey, Desperate Times calls for... lower standards for the title of Hero.


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## mundinironhand

Only desperation was the paladin, Tristan.  Even the wolf had a better time than him.  Bootsy hung back and casty spells and launched crossbow bolts unscathed, Celtir did likewise with bow and clerical spells, and Wencis was able to charge into melee with the taskmaster and not take damage.  Frankie took the brunt of the taskmasters fire spells but was hardly fazed.  Pretty damn heroic.


----------



## Abciximab

*Recon Plan Alpha (And Bravo)*​
After an uneventful night the companions started to lay their plans.

Bootsy looked thoughtfully out the door toward the fortress. “We should recon first. See if there are any other ways in. I don’t like the idea of knocking on the main entrance. What resources do we have?”

Tristan pulled a dark object from his pack. “You know, we’ve never figured out what this spider figurine does. I found it way back in the cockroach tunnels. Could you take a look with your monocle?”

Bootsy brought out his eyepiece and sat down to study the black banded red jasper statuette. 

“How much rope do we have? Could we climb to the top?” Frankie asked.

“We have plenty of rope but it would be a challenging climb,” answered Wencis.

The companions sat in quiet though for a short time.

Bootsy looked up from his work. “We should go in from the top and the answer to how is in this figurine. It will change into a large spider with the right command word, which I have just discerned. We can ride it to the top.”

The companions shared a surprised look and then started to gather their equipment.

----------​
Bootsy had been the first to the top. Over the next hour he thoroughly searched the stone parapet while the spider carried his companions up the face of the cliff. Once they were all gathered, the others confirmed his findings. There did not appear to be an entrance. Looking over the side they noted a few arrow slits. 

Hopping on the spider and fastening the harness around him, Bootsy guided the spider over the edge. Looking carefully through each arrow slit he saw one appeared to be a study with a table covered in paperwork, while the other contained a bed. He guided the spider back to the top and told his companions what he saw.

Celtir looked thoughtful. “Well, I can petition Solonor for the ability to shape stone. That should get us all in through the arrow slit.”

Bootsy liked the sound of that and eagerly rubbed his hands together. “Great. Hop on the spider.” 

“Uh, it… um… It’ll have to be tomorrow, I’ve already prayed for my spells today.”

Bootsy froze mid-rub. “Damn. Well we’ll just sleep up here then. We shouldn’t be bothered up here.”

----------​

“All right. Let’s try this again.” Bootsy summoned the spider once more.

Down at the arrow slit, Celtir murmured a prayer to Solonor and the stone seemed to melt away from around the arrow slit, making an opening big enough to enter, even the large spider could squeeze through.

One by one, the spider brought down the other companions. 

They found themselves in a bedroom. A four poster bed with a thick mattress occupied the west wall, but what appeared to be a human sized nest of dried mud and bones sat on the floor beside it. A heavy wardrobe stood to the south, three sets of robes, similar in color and design to the uniforms the snake-men they fought outside had been wearing. A quick search turned up nothing of interest, though they did discover the only exit was locked. 

Frankie took out his “key”, and with three strikes from his axe, the door fell to pieces. 

The oddly shaped chamber beyond took up half the octagonal space of the tower. Stairs and landings spiraled upward and there was a set of double doors to the east. Another set of double doors next to the one they had broken down they knew must lead to the room that appeared to be a study. Bootsy tried the door but it was locked. Frankie raised his axe again.

Just as the door fell apart, the doors behind them opened revealing two snarling lizardfolk. Tristan charged one, his blade taking it through the chest. It lived just long enough for Celtir's arrow to pierce its throat. The other lizard slashed at Tristan with tooth and claw but he was suffered only minor injuries. Between Wencis’ hammer, Frankie's axe and a bolt from Bootsy, the other lizard died just as quickly as his companion.

Bootsy had returned to the room and cast Detect Magic to pick out items of interest when there was another disturbance, this time from above. 

“Don’t let them catch me again!”

A human-sized draconic form landed next to Celtir, its scales a dull bronze, covered in old scars. Confused by its outcry Celtir hesitated a moment during which the dragon bit him, a few of its teeth finding the gaps in his armor.

Hearing a voice up above, Frankie glanced up to where the dragon had come from and saw another threat. Behind a railing at the top of the stairs was what appeared to be a human, but her snake-like features revealed her true heritage. Just as he moved to climb the stair she gestured toward him and a wave of drowsiness washed over him. He shrugged it off and ran up the stairs and slashed her with his axe. Right behind him was Wencis, who was able to launch his hammer, striking the woman a glancing blow. 

Coming up behind the dragon, Bootsy was racking his brain trying to remember all he could about Bronze Dragons. _They're supposed to be good, so something’s not right. Oh well. Now are they immune to fire or electricity, I forget…_ Striking the dragon with a Shocking Grasp quickly answered his question as the energy harmlessly washed over the creature.

Tristan charged the dragon and struck deep with his blade while Celtir stepped back and launched an arrow at the creature. 

Taking exception to the Paladin, the dragon bit and raked at Tristan, scoring minor wounds with each attack. 

Up above, Frankie and Wencis continued to strike at the woman, Wencis’ hammer blows all charged with electricity. Her ability to dodge the worst of their blows was all that was keeping her alive. Stepping away from the two, she cast and gestured toward Frankie again. Suddenly, this whole situation seemed hysterically funny to Frankie and he collapsed on the ground in fits of laughter.

Down below, Tristan and Celtir held the dragon's attention while Bootsy cast a sheet of flames over the creature. Its most serious wounds had come from Tristan’s blade and it was probably for that reason he was singled out for the dragon’s breath weapon. There was a sharp report as a bolt of lightning shot from the dragon’s maw and struck Tristan a glancing blow. 

With Frankie still laughing on the floor, Wencis stepped up to the snake woman once more and slammed her with his charged hammer, dropping her to the ground. Even as she fell, attacks from Tristan, Celtir and another sheet of flames from Bootsy left the dragon horribly wounded. It quickly took wing, flying back up to the balcony, suffering a parting shot from Tristan as it retreated. 

Bootsy ran from where he had been standing in the doorway of the study out into the hall. “Where’s it going, where is it!”

Swiping at the dragon with his hammer as it passed, Wencis saw it headed for one of what appeared to be a number of magical gates that lined the wall. Even knowing what was coming, Wencis didn’t hesitate to answer, “It’s here with me, Ten feet dead ahead!” 

A small bead flew past him and hit the ceiling, detonating into a blossom of flame. An instant later, the flames dissipated and while Wencis was only slightly singed, the dragon lay dead. 

Bootsy let out a sigh as Frankie’s magically induced laughter was finally ending. “By the gods, can we search the damned study now?”

End of Session 12.


----------



## Abciximab

Session Notes.

Always expect the unexpected from your players. That’s rule number one as a DM.

No, I wasn’t trying to keep them from finding an alternate route, I just couldn’t find the entry for the top of the tower. It’s not on any of the color maps (but come to find out it does have a map in the back section of the mod), so I made something up. After the game, when I had time to look closer, I finally found it. Here I was expecting some combination of natural cavern/open air but the description of the top opens with describing rafters and beams??? (Which was why I missed it when I was skimming for it.) Why does the top of the tower have rafters? It is half covered by the cavern that was carved into the cliff face where the fortress is situated. Do these rafters support the top of the cliff?

In any event, I hadn’t planned for that method of entry, though it had crossed my mind at some point. How would they get up there? I thought they would be dissuaded by the risks of climbing and explore other (easier) options first. I had forgotten about the spider figurine. Good time to identify it though. 

Guess I’ve been too busy putting up sheet rock. 

I did feel bad for the Paladin. Here he was, charging across the open field on his new Celestial Dire Wolf Mount, coming to the rescue of a group of oppressed and tortured innocent souls (Paladins can wait their whole lives for a chance like this, “Fear not! I shall rescue you!”) and he gets snatched off the back of his mount by a Huge Snake. He then spends the entire encounter trying to break free of the snakes grasp. (“I’ll be right there! Just a Minute! If I can just… Argh!”)


----------



## Peteinmaine

*Cursed spells*

I miss combat!


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## Abciximab

Peteinmaine said:
			
		

> I miss combat!




Well, when you hit 12th level (I guess that would be 13th for you) you can take Tensors Transformation.


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## Abciximab

The Companions of the Barrow are on for tonight, ready to continue the assault on the Fortress. They're already whining because I've reminded them they haven't rested yet. One stoneshape, a few rooms, a couple monsters and these seventh level characters want to rest again.

Actually, that's not true. One thing these players do not do is whine. They get evil looks on their faces and plot their revenge. They are suspicious, since I had to remind them three times they haven't rested. I'm pretty sure they'll all walk through the door here with a twenty sided in hand ready to roll for initiative.


----------



## Abciximab

*Flashback​*
The two lizardfolk were startled by the sudden sound coming from behind the door where they stood guard. 

“What is this noise?” Shillonok whispered as he pressed his ear to the door. There were three heavy blows and the sound of splintering wood. 

“Could be the Lady and her dragon pet?” Kallist answered questioningly.

“Whatever it is they are the sounds of trouble. Better get help, just in case,” Shillonock answered as he turned and dashed down the stairs.

Listening carefully Kallist heard the sound again, once again three blows and there was the sound of breaking wood just as Shillonok returned. 

“That was quick. Who will come?”

“I ran into Stamish at the bottom of the stair, he said he would bring the first patrol he could find and warn Elvarel that we may have intruders.”

“Should we wait?”

In answer, Shillonock flexed his clawed hands and bared his teeth and gave a low growl.

Thus they opened the doors and sealed their fate.


----------



## Abciximab

Things have been busy, so I've had little time to write. I'll try to post when I can, so we may end up with a bunch of small updates.


----------



## Abciximab

*The Assault Continues*​
Wencis cautiously approached the strange stone archways. All seven were filled with a brilliant green light that obscured whatever lay beyond. He was about to return to his companions who were still on the lower landing when a spine chilling howl filled the rooms. Immediately after, a large black hound and four winged snakes flew down from above. The dog bit at Wencis as it flew past him and one of the serpents spit venom toward his face as two others flew up and tried to bite him. Dodging the venom spray Wencis slammed the dog with his hammer.

Down below the last serpent flew down and sprayed the remaining companions with venom, catching Celtir right in the face. Struck blind by the venom, he cautiously moved to safety on the other side of the doors that led to the stairs. 

Raising Merthuvial above his head, Tristan quickly charged across the room and slashed the serpent from the air. Hearing Wencis’ shouts from above, Bootsy moved to the bottom of the stairs where he saw the three remaining snakes and the dog harrying Wencis. A Scorching Ray burned the hound right out of the air. Wencis quickly dispatched another serpent as Celtir returned to the fight. Having wiped the burning venom from his eyes, his arrows dropped another serpent. Tristan reversed direction and ran up the stairs where he quickly killed the last of their opponents. 

“So, how long have we been at this?” Wencis asked as everyone was catching their breath.

Bootsy gave it a moments thought, “About forty five minutes.”

“How is everybody doing?”

Everyone took stock and the consensus was clear. “We’re all good.”

Wencis examined one of the flashing archways. “It looks kind of like the portal that got us here. Should we go through?”

Celtir looked at the seven portals along the wall. “No. I think stepping blindly through one of these would be a bad idea. Let’s at least explore a little more first.”

The others agreed and seeing that there was little left of the tower to explore, the companions descended to the first landing and took the stairs there down to another set of double doors.

Celtir stepped up and opened the doors. Standing on the other side and seemingly reaching for the very same door were a mixed group of humanoids. First, reaching for the door was another of the small green lizardfolk they had fought at the top of these very stairs. Second there were three creatures with the unmistakable snakelike features that had been rounding up the slaves outside, Yuan-Ti Purebloods. Standing at the back of the group was what appeared to be a large serpent with arms. The Abomination rose to its full height and spoke in a hissing tongue. It pointed a finger at Celtir who gave a short cry as if in pain and then seemed to disappear as all of his equipment dropped to the ground where he had stood just a moment before. Then a small snake head poked out of the top of the pile and seemed to look around with what might pass for a shocked expression on its serpentine face. Celtir had been Polymorphed into a small snake. His companions stood only a moment in silent shock before attacking their foes in force.

A Fireball from Bootsy blossomed toward the back of the enemy party, dropping two of the Purebloods and singeing the small lizardman. The Abomination and the remaining Pureblood were unscathed. Wencis charged forward, killing the Pureblood with an electrically charged hammer strike. Tristan followed close behind, slashing the Abomination with Merthuvial. The lizardman fell back and launched an arrow at Wencis.

Bootsy fired a shot with his crossbow that glanced off the hide of the Abomination as Celtir slithered up the stairs to make sure he was not caught underfoot. 

Wencis and Tristan both struck at the Abomination who returned as good as it got with its scimitar. 

Seeing its only remaining ally engaged with two skilled fighters the lizardman started to back away, inching toward a ramp that would take him down to the entrance level. When the abomination was finally struck down by blows from Both Wencis and Tristan, it ran to the ramp and ducked around the corner out of sight of the companions. Bootsy moved to the bottom of the stairs and launched a Fireball at a point as close to that corner as he could and was gratified to hear the creature cry out.

Seeing this whole area was a balcony that overlooked the level below, Tristan ran to the railing and looked over. There he found himself meeting the hollow gaze of a huge skeletal lizard standing just below him. Shouting a challenge Tristan raised his sword above his head and prepared to jump over the railing, only to see a small blur zip past him and over the railing as Bootsy jumped over and dropped two vials of acid onto the undead creature’s skull. Following him over the railing Tristan’s blade bit deep into the creature as he dropped to the floor next to Bootsy. The creature reared up and attacked Tristan with tooth and claw, scoring deep wounds that bled freely. They both heard someone cry out and saw a figure behind the huge skeleton. A Half Elf in full plate raised a symbol above his head and a dark pulse filled their view. The negative energy burned their flesh even as it healed the undead creature before them. 

Wencis ran to the railing and launched his hammer at the creature’s head over and over, electricity arcing from the hammer where it struck. 

Sorely wounded, Tristan took a few steps back and called for his Celestial Dire Wolf, Moro. Bootsy focused his ire and scorched both the Half Elf and the skeleton with a Fireball. The Skeletal lizard attacked Bootsy but the quick Gnome’s dodging kept the wounds from being too serious. 

Moro finally appeared and attacked the skeleton, his powerful jaws cracking bone. Tristan raised his holy symbol and called upon the power of his god, healing some of his wounds and those of his friends while the energy burned at the huge undead creature. Another negative burst from the Half Elf undid that healing and the attacks from the skeleton left Tristan all but dead on his feet. He retreated across the large hall to heal his wounds as the combined attacks from Wencis and Moro finally destroyed the Huge Skeleton. Bootsy Roasted the Half Elf with a Scorching Ray and Moro quickly leapt in and crushed the Half Elf’s throat in his jaws.

With no immediate threats the companions regrouped and healed as much as they could. 
Pulling out a scroll, Bootsy called for the small serpent that was Celtir to be brought out. Casting from the scroll, he dispelled the powerful magic that had transformed Celtir into a snake.

Looking around, they found themselves in a great hall. Much of the chamber was open to the chamber above. Two large winches, their handles carved to resemble striking cobras, flanked a set of brass double doors that the companions assumed were the exterior doors. Across from the doors, clear water glinted within a circular marble pool. 

Examining two doors on one side of the room the companions found a kitchen and a dining room that were empty except for the furniture, which Bootsy set on fire just for spite.

Celtir opened the only door on the opposite wall where they found things a little more interesting. The walls of the small rectangular chamber were covered in carvings. What first seemed to be a group of serpentine figures, revealed itself to be a single impossibly long snake with numerous heads along the length of its body. Near the west wall stood an altar slab of black marble atop an iron stand in the shape of a coiled cobra. 

Standing behind the altar was a tall, broad-shouldered lizardman clad in green leather. His dusky scales were almost black and he stared at the companions with an unblinking eye. His clawed talons clenched the hilt of a spear, but he made no move to attack. 

Tristan stole a quick glance over Celtir’s shoulder and whispered “Evil.”

Before he could say anything more, the remaining companions stormed the room. Wencis’ hammer pummeled the lizardman even as it was pierced by an arrow from Celtir. A bolt ticked off the wall next to the creature’s head as Moro leapt forward and tore out its throat.

Tristan stood silent for a moment. “Is it just me, or did it seem as though he had something he wanted to say to us?”

As he stepped over to inspect the body Bootsy just shrugged. “Guess we’ll never know.”

Gathering up what they found on his body they turned to the other door in the room. Opening it, they found a large open chamber that appeared to be an audience hall. A raised dais sat against the east wall, complete with a stone podium adorned with serpentine carvings. 

Celtir started to move across the floor to inspect the podium when he disappeared through the floor. A pit had swung open, dropping him through the floor, and then the doors of the pit quickly closed once again. 

Once again, after a moment staring at where Celtir had been just a moment ago, the companion s burst into a flurry of activity. As Wencis and Tristan found the edges of the trap door, Bootsy summoned a Celestial dog. Tying a rope around the animal, Wencis and Tristan held tight to the rope as Bootsy led the dog over the trap. As the animal fell through, they kept the line tight so the dog fell only a few feet and kept the trap door open.

“You ok down there!” Bootsy called. 

About thirty feet down they could see Celtir standing in a small room. “Yeah, the stone floor broke my fall!” He called back.

Bootsy quickly lowered the end of the rope that was not tied to the dog and helped Tristan and Wencis hold the rope as Celtir climbed out. Once he was out, Bootsy dismissed the dog and the trap door swung shut. 

A quick search revealed nothing of interest within the chamber.

They opened the double doors at the northern end of the chamber. Beyond the doors they found a chamber of horrors. 

A rack and an iron maiden stood next to terrible contraptions of cables, needles and cuffs whose purpose the companions chose not to guess at. The floor was stained with dried blood. A red-black pool was spread around a rusty grate in the center of the floor. 

Tied to the rack was a man, obviously one of the abducted slaves. His tormenters were one of the Yuan-Ti Abominations and a Halfblood female. As Tristan and his mount charged into the chamber, the Abomination cast and this time it was Tristan that was turned into a small snake. Angered by the loss of his friend, Moro charged forward and tore into the Abomination. Wencis also charged forward, hammering the creature with his electrically charged hammer. Bootsy cast and tried to strike the female with a Shocking Grasp, but the charge seemed to dissipate harmlessly as he touched her. 

The female Halfblood’s skin seemed to ooze as her distended jaws bit Bootsy on the shoulder and he cried out in anger as he felt acid burn his flesh. Then the air around them came alive as Celtir prayed to Solonor and a storm of flashing energy appeared around both Yuan-Ti, burning them with its energy. The abomination was quickly killed by the combination of attacks from Wencis and Moro and the effects of the storm. With nothing else distracting them, the Halfblood soon followed.

As the others searched the room and released the prisoner, Celtir caught Tristan and gathered up his things.

Questioning the prisoner, they found out there were more prisoners held below, but they were guarded by a ghostly Yuan-Ti that enjoyed tormenting them. 

“Well, we’re in no shape to help them at the moment,” observed Bootsy. “We’ll have to rest up. Back to the top of the tower has my vote.”

The others agreed and after showing the prisoner out the front door, they climbed back out and up to the top of the tower to rest.

End of Session Thirteen.


----------



## Peteinmaine

*Of course...*

It probably didn't help, that Bootsy and Tristan, went out drinking before the game...errrr uhm hey look over there (what's his touch AC?)


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## Abciximab

Session Notes:

Yes, once again no Frankie. No, I did not come up with a not so subtle reason. I just excluded any mention of his character. We’ll assume he’s guarding the exit.

I don’t remember the last time I rolled so many 20’s. I rolled at least six of them, though I was only able to confirm two crits. Both against Tristan in one round. Almost immediately after I rolled two more 20’s against Wencis. 

Roll: 20
Confirm: 5
{Switch Die)
Roll: 20
Confirm: 5

They’re doing well. I hope 3-4 more sessions to wrap it up (2-3 would be even better). Then it’ll be time for someone else (High Cleric) to take up the post of DM. He’s even mentioned something about back story or some such thing???


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## Abciximab

*Foreshadowing​*
“Master, we have intruders.”

“What?” A voice hissed angrily. 

“Patrols have found many dead, including Prath and his Pet. There are reports of a fire set in the dining hall and a large hole in the wall of the Tower of The Way.”

“Intruders?” The Master’s countenance grew thoughtful. “Intruders… Yes, find them. Find out if they are still within the fortress and if not, find out where they might be hiding. Find them and… Tell the patrol’s they are not to attack yet, come and tell me when they are found… Yes, this must be handled… Carefully.”

As his servant turned to leave The Master added, “…And tell Chavakuth to seal the hole.”

“My Master, Chavakuth is among the dead.”

“Really?” The Master almost smiled, but instead slowly started nodding. “Yes… Find them. Find them and keep me posted. Yes… This must be done… with great care…”


----------



## Abciximab

Bootsy – 7th/1st Level Gnome Sorcerer/Fighter.
Celtir – 8th Level Elven Cleric.
Frankie – 7th Level Dwarven Barbarian.
Tristan – 7th Level Human Paladin (Currently in the form of a Tiny Viper).
Wencis – 7th Level Aasimar Incarnate.

*Prison Break​*
“There’s no activity in the village,” Wencis noted. “That can’t be a good sign.”

He turned as he heard the sounds of frustration coming from Celtir who was sitting with a tiny viper on the ground before him. The cleric shook his head, “The magic of the Yuan-Ti is powerful. The spell that has transformed Tristan resists my efforts to dispel it. I’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

Frankie returned from where he had looked over the wall. “More bad news. The hole we made in the side of the tower is gone.”

“Well, that was to be expected. There was no way our presence in the fortress could not have been noticed. We’ll just have to make another entryway,” said Bootsy. “The only question is where.”

After a short discussion, the companions decided there was no reason not to use the front door. 

Once they had used the spider to climb down from the top of the tower, Celtir once again called on the power of his god to shape stone, warping the stone away from the hinges of the main doors to the fortress. The remaining companions readied themselves for what lay beyond. What was beyond the doors surprised them. 

Bootsy stepped in. “No one? Guess they weren’t expecting this tactic. Where to from here?”

Celtir Pointed to a passageway that sloped downward, “The slave we released indicated there was a prison below. If the villagers have been rounded up, they may be there. We should make rescuing them a priority. As for the ghost the prisoner told us about, I have petitioned Solonor for the powers to assist us in destroying an incorporeal creature. I can empower one of our weapons with the ability to strike such creatures reliably. The only question is who gets it.”

The general consensus was that Frankie’s weapon was probably the best choice.

Upon reaching the bottom of the sloping passage, they saw rows of cell doors. Muffled moans and cries revealed the presence of multiple prisoners. Looking through the bars of the nearest cell doors, they saw a female Elf and a full blooded Orc looking back at them. Taking a set of keys they had found on the torturers they had slain, they were able to release the Elf. 

As the companions spread out to find the remaining prisoners, the ghostly Yuan-Ti made his appearance. 

Gliding silently out of one of the walls, the creature slashed at Frankie with ghostly tooth and claw. Frankie’s quick reflexes saved him and his companions quickly retaliated. Two Scorching Rays from Bootsy passed through the ghostly form, but a positive energy burst from Celtir, a hammer strike from Wencis and two slashes from Frankie’s axe quickly put an end to the ghostly tormenter of those imprisoned here. A subdued cheer went up from the prisoners as this news was spread. 

Giving the keys to the Elf they had released, Celtir urged her to find and release the remaining prisoners as the companions continued to explore the rest of this level. 

As they moved toward the western portion of the prison level, Bootsy raised a hand to stop his companions the moment the stench of rot assailed his nostrils. Looking ahead in the shadowy light, he saw a wide open pit in the floor. Waste water was oozing and dripping into the pit from grates in the stone ceiling above it. 

Bootsy quickly cast and a fireball blossomed directly over the pit. When his companions looked at him questioningly he just shrugged. “If there is but one sure thing in this universe, it is that there is always something bad in the waste pit of any abode of evil and its name is Otyugh.”

Sure enough, as Celtir got too close trying to slip past it on one side, a long tentacle lashed out of the pit. The nimble elf quickly dodged aside and launched two arrows into the disgusting creature that rose from the garbage within the pit. The arrows struck in the center of the mass and sunk in to the beast all the way to the fletching. The creature let out a low moan and slumped back into the waste.

Bootsy scoffed, “How predictable.”

Moving into the western half of the dungeon, they entered a large chamber with doors on all sides. Quickly breaking through the locked doors they found a large store of supplies. Calling the prisoners over they armed them with the weapons and armor they found and gave them what food and other necessities they had found throughout the area. 

Through one of the doors they found a meticulously clean room. On the shelf they found two pearls and a suit of scale armor made from overlapping layers of darkwood. They had seen a suit of armor just like this one on one of the statues in the Tomb of the Forgotten King. Using his staff and monocle Bootsy quickly discovered all three were magical and discerned their properties. The two Pearls of Power and the armor were given to Celtir.

With the released prisoners in tow the companions returned to the entryway of the keep, showed the prisoners the way out and continued up to the next level of the fortress.


----------



## Abciximab

*Fortress of the Yuan-Ti​*
At the balcony level, a quick search of the areas they had not yet been to revealed a number of rooms that were obviously used as barracks for the common soldiers of the keep.

Continuing upward they found themselves in the largest room they had yet to find. The strange electric glow of two more of the portals cast light on the four massive columns that supported the ceiling of this chamber. To the east, multiple serpentine statues stood in niches along the north and south walls and the room was crossed by rows of massive pillars. In the center of the chamber stood a three tiered ziggurat of what appeared to be black marble. The air in the room was desert-dry and carried a foul scent. On either side of the ziggurat, a set of stairs led to the tops of two towers that stood within the massive chamber as well. 

Wencis and Frankie moved to inspect the ziggurat as Celtir and Bootsy each climbed the steps to the two towers. As they approached, a palpable sense of dread seemed to radiate from the ziggurat. Seen up close, the structure’s black marble walls were shot through with veins of dark red and its surface glistened slightly. From the tops of the towers Bootsy and Celtir could see the top the ziggurat.

“There’s something small on top of it,” Celtir called down. “It’s small… Leather or cloth maybe?”

Bootsy squinted over the side of the low railing of his tower toward the top of the ziggurat. “They’re bracers, or Frankie’s mother is a Gnome.” Before Frankie could object, Bootsy looked down at the Dwarf and called out, “Sure as she’s a gods damned Dwarf! Is that better?”

Down below, Frankie looked to Wencis, shrugged his shoulders and both just shook their heads.

As the companions regrouped at the bottom of the ziggurat, they discussed options. Bootsy went so far as to touch the large structure. “It gives a little. Kind of feels… Fleshy. I don’t think I could climb it. ”

Bootsy was about to dig out his rope to try to snag the item up above, when Wencis made a suggestion. “I have the ability to shape my soul energy into sandals that would allow me to walk on the air for a short period of time. I could go up and get them that way.”

The companions looked at each other and then looked at Wencis. As one they burst out laughing. “Sandals?” Bootsy cried out between guffaws. “What the hell kind of Fairy-ing magic do you use exactly?”

Wencis looked a little embarrassed. “Look, my abilities are gifted by the divine. I don’t choose their forms. I just utilize the powers to the best of my ability.”

As the laughter dropped to just snickering and giggling, Frankie patted him on the shoulder. “T’is true, your powers have been very useful and you have truly contributed to our successes. But I think our next quest should be one to find you a manlier source of power.”

Assuming the good natured ribbing and laughter was not going to stop anytime soon, Wencis quickly called upon his innate powers and rose into the air. 

When he returned Bootsy stepped forward to examine his find. “Well, it would seem that these bracers were once magical, but whatever power they had has been drained from them somehow, by some power of the ziggurat perhaps. It breaks my heart to see such waste.”

Continuing upwards, the companions found themselves on a large balcony overlooking the area they had just left. 

“Well, there are always those glowing portals,” suggested Wencis.

Bootsy shook his head, “Before we get too hasty, let’s reexamine some of the places we’ve been. We can start here.” Spreading out, the companions started to search the walls.

After about a half an hour of searching Bootsy finally found something of interest. “Over here! There’s a seam along the wall here. I bet it’s a secret door." A brief search revealed the opening mechanism and the door was quickly opened. The passageway beyond branched almost immediately. It sloped down to the east and apparently dead ended to the west. 

Bootsy moved to the west, “I don’t buy that. Who would go through all the trouble to build a passage that goes nowhere?”

A quick search revealed another secret door.

The walls of the room beyond were covered with etched images of huge serpents feasting on entire castles and villages of terrified humanoids. Other than the frescoes there was only another of the crackling green portals and a set of stairs leading down. 

Seeing nothing of interest within the room the companions started down the stairs. Not too far down, they came to a small landing where the stair continued down, just after a door set in the wall that would apparently allow entry to the center of the tower.

As they were about to move to inspect the doors a hooting shriek echoed throughout the stairwell. Coming up the stairs below, bouncing from wall to wall, came three corpse-pale baboons with burning eyes. Their fur was falling out in patches from taught flesh and their gaunt muzzles flashed jagged teeth as they attacked. 

Bootsy was first to act and he burned the first two baboons with two Scorching Rays. The creatures quickly closed the distance and bit both Frankie and Bootsy. Both of the companions were weakened as negative energy flowed through them. A positive energy burst from Celtir burned at the flesh of the three baboons while simultaneously healing his injured companions. One of the creatures that had already been hit with the Scorching Ray collapsed into a pile of dust. Of the remaining two, one was killed by two quick axe blows from Frankie and the other fell to an electrically charged hammer thrown by Wencis.

Turning to the door, the companions found it locked. A few blows from Frankie were all it took to force the doors open. Beyond, chains suspended a coiled serpentine idol of polished brass from the ceiling of what must have been a religious sanctuary. Rows of cushions covered the floor in concentric circles surrounding the hanging idol as if worshipers were meant to look up at it in prayer. 

Even as the companions took in the features of the room, two serpentine skeletons lurched toward them. From above, they heard a hissed incantation. A Yuan-Ti Pureblood clad in black robes edged with green serpents was perched atop the statue. A dark beam lanced down and sapped Frankie’s strength, leaving him exhausted. Only a moment later a small bead flew into the room and blossomed into a ball of fire just below the Yuan-Ti, burning him and the skeletons within the chamber. 

Celtir quickly moved up and launched two arrows at the Yuan-Ti, dropping him from his perch on the idol. Axe blows from Frankie and a charged hammer from Wencis smashed into the skeleton who quickly returned the attacks, slashing with scimitars and biting at the two companions. A positive energy burst from Celtir quickly followed, burning at the skeletons and causing one of them to flee to the back of the room. With the Pureblood mage dead and one of the skeletons cowering, the companions quickly finished the undead creatures.

Gathering what they found on the dead Yuan-Ti, they continued down the stairs. Shortly they came to another landing, identical to the last. Once again the companions had to force the door open. 

The companions were momentarily stunned by the horrors within. Foul art objects, demonic weapons, bloodstained bones, severed hands and standards bearing sigils of chaos and evil lined the walls on all sides. Along the far wall a number of prisoners, including Clora, stood manacled, their faces masks of terror and despair. Next to a stone slab in the center of the room, a female prisoner fought desperately against another human woman in hide armor and blood-hued ceremonial robes. The prisoner was unarmed but the cultist raised a rusted dagger. Once again one of their enemies suffered the terrible combination of Frankie’s axe and Wencis’ Hammer only to be fried by both of Bootsy’s Scorching Rays. She had barely had time to acknowledge their presence before she was struck down. 

While the others gathered what they could, Bootsy approached the woman who had been wrestling with the cultist. “So you definitely are not one of the villagers. Who are you and what brings you here?”

“My name is Arzaezra. I am an explorer and adventurer who has come to this valley accidentally. I am more than ready to leave it.”

Satisfied with this simple explanation, the companions armed her and the slaves with what they could and then took the time to show them all the way out. 

Once outside, as Arzaezra was walking away, Celtir felt something wiggle out of his pack and poke him on the back of the neck. He looked to see it was Tristan, still in the form of a tiny viper, that was poking him and motioning in the direction of Arzaezra. He called it to the attention of the others. “I wonder what’s got him all worked up?” None of them could figure it out, so they ignored him and Tristan eventually crawled back into the pack, a frustrated look on his serpentine face.

They returned to find a door at the bottom of the tower. Beyond they found a room very similar to the one at the top of the tower, though only half its size. Within they saw one of the stone archways that usually were lit with electrical activity, though this one was silent and showed only a stone filled archway.

At Wencis’ suggestion they returned to the two active portals they had found at the top of the fortress. After a short discussion, it was decided they would go through the southern gate.

Putting on one of the cultists robes Bootsy turned to his companions, “Give me a few seconds before you burst through. Let’s see if we can catch anyone on the other side off guard.”

When Bootsy passed through the portal he found he had been transported into an oddly shaped room that resembled a distended triangle. Five doors lined the walls and a large pit opened up in the middle of the floor. He also found himself next to a large hideous figure. The figure was humanoid from the waist up but serpentine below. Its body was a patchwork of scales and leathery skin – some dried and shriveled, some bloody and raw. 

Rolling with a punch from the creature, Bootsy came to his feet about ten feet away. Now fully aware of the creature’s great strength, he carefully cast a Scorching Ray at the creature and was disappointed when he saw the flames wash over it harmlessly. A moment later, Frankie came through and was surprised when the creature punched him on the shoulder knocking him to the side. On his heels came Wencis who managed to dodge to the opposite side and then Celtir who tumbled past Frankie and was able to step away from the large creature. 

The first thing they noticed was how tough the creature was. The one-two punch from Frankie’s axe and Wencis’ hammer barely left a scratch on the creature. Celtir's arrows also barely punctured the creatures flesh and Bootsy’s magic continued to wash over the creature harmlessly. 

The companions shared a look that said, “We might be in trouble,” and then they got to work. Wencis and Frankie accepted the punishing blows from the creature, keeping it away from Celtir so he could use his bow, and away from Bootsy, who fell back to throwing oil at the creature. Only their skills were keeping them alive, rolling with the punches to lessen the impact. Trying to find a form of magic that might affect it, Bootsy noted, after casting Acid Arrow, that the creature was apparently healed by acid. 

After almost a full minute of ducking, weaving and striking, the creature was finally starting to falter, but so were Frankie and Wencis. Celtir raised his holy symbol and called upon Solonor, healing everyone’s wounds. This was what saved the companions, Celtir’s ability to heal his companions while the large creature was unaffected by the positive burst. Finally, the amount of damage was too great and the creature was defeated. 

End of Session 14.


----------



## Abciximab

Session Notes:

Yeah, there was some metagaming. But really, putting an Otyugh in a garbage pit… That’s almost as bad as putting a secret door at the end of a dead end corridor with no other doors.

We have kind of a running joke about Aasimar looking effeminate. It started with my monk character from the last campaign and has continued on to this one. There is a reference to this early in the story hour when Bootsy is giving Wencis a potion and calls him “Lass”. When MundinIronhand (Wencis’ player) mentioned the sandals we couldn’t help but laugh about it.

The fight with the Scale Golem was long and the players were really working to try and figure out what might affect it. They finally nickel and dimed it enough to defeat it.

I mentioned Arzaezra’s background (Paladin of Slaughter) after they let her go and jokes were made about how agitated Tristan must have been in her presence. 

Oh yeah, no Tristan this week. Off to Arizona? Is that what I heard?


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## Abciximab

*Delay of Game*

Due to Real Life (Curses), our game has been delayed, so there will be no update this week. Hopefully we will be able to schedule a game for next week (If we could just settle on a day). 

Since we have such short session I had been hoping we'd be able to schedule a marathon (marathon for us that is >2.5 hours) game for a saturday or sunday to finish up the campaign. We'll see if we can pull that one off.


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## Abciximab

Bootsy – 7th/1st Level Gnome Sorcerer/Fighter.
Celtir – 8th Level Elven Cleric.
Frankie – 8th Level Dwarven Barbarian.
Tristan – 7th Level Human Paladin (Currently in the form of a Tiny Viper).
Wencis – 8th Level Aasimar Incarnate.

*The Voice of Evil​*
After the defeat of the scaled construct, the companions started to search the surrounding rooms. Two of the doors opened easily revealing small rooms, each outfitted with a bed, wardrobe and a writing desk. Finding the other two door locked the companions had to resort to Frankie’s “Key”. As he chopped into the first door, lightning filled the room leaving all the companions smoking where they stood.

Bootsy cast Detect Magic and gazed upon the door. “It still radiates magic. I would expect that’ll happen every time.”

Frankie inspected the amount of damage he had done to the door. “I think I can take a few more of those.”

Seeking cover in the rooms they had opened, the companions left Frankie to his work. After two more strikes and two more shocks the door finally collapsed inward. Beyond was a small chamber containing all manner of equipment, carefully ordered and labeled in a language the companions assumed was Yuan-Ti. A search of the room revealed a number of spell components, including some expensive jewels and powders. One large pouch contained a foul smelling purple powder. 

“Looks very unusual,” Bootsy said as he sniffed at the powder in the bag. “I can’t place it, but I expect it might be a component for some strange spell or ritual. Might be for either evil or necromantic magic but my guess is some combination of both. We’d best hold onto it for now.”

Breaking down the last door they found what might have been taken for the living quarters of an ascetic or monk, were it not for the array of skulls bolted to the walls. Some were Human, some Elven, some Orcish and there were even a few Yuan-Ti. The skulls were meticulously clean but each was perforated by four round holes. In addition to the skulls, a flat wooden cot with a thin mattress served as a bed, while pegs on one wall took the place of a wardrobe. A search of the room revealed a small magical circlet.

Having explored all other options, the companions returned to the center of the entry room to look into the pit that occupied the middle of the room. It looked to be about ten feet deep with no interesting features. Just to be sure there was nothing more to it, Frankie jumped down. Celtir was about to follow when he noticed Frankie seemed to disappear through the floor of the pit and a moment later he heard a distant “Thud” and Frankie grunt. This was followed by Frankie’s voice shouting up that he was not alone, leaving the companions unsure if that meant he was in trouble.

Realizing the pit was an illusion, Celtir cast Wind Walk as Bootsy climbed onto his back. Once he was sure they were both prepared, Celtir stepped over the pit and started to descend. 

Lowering themselves through the illusory floor of the pit, Celtir and Bootsy found themselves in the middle of some type of laboratory. The room’s most alarming feature was the gaunt humanoid figure with sickly purple skin and a face that was a mass of writhing tentacles. Next to it was a raging Yuan-Ti that was lifting a greataxe and preparing to charge. 

Before they could react, a wave of mental energy washed over them. Through sheer force of will neither Bootsy nor Celtir were affected by it. Bootsy quickly leapt from Celtir’s back onto the floor and cast a Scorching Ray at each of the two creatures, but the fiery magic washed harmlessly over them both. A quick shot from Celtir missed the Squid faced creature as the Yuan-Ti charged forward and slashed at him with its axe. Everyone in the room was momentarily taken aback when a figure plummeted past them, through a hole in the floor and into the room below. Wencis had jumped down to lend his support. He rolled to his feet as he landed next to Frankie. 

They were both standing in a room beneath the one where Bootsy and Celtir were fighting the Yuan-Ti and the Mind Flayer. This room was lined with book-filled shelves and contained a number of cushioned chairs. As they took this in they heard a low laugh from high up along one wall. Looking up they saw a Yuan-Ti Abomination on a narrow balcony, its massive form dwarfed the railing it was leaning upon. Its eyes gleamed with a fiendish light as it called out in a deep voice, “I was wondering when you would show up here. I believe we should talk.”


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## Abciximab

*Monologue-ing*​
In the room above, Bootsy was disappointed as he watched his magic fail once more against his enemies. The Yuan-Ti slashed at him with his axe and it was only Bootsy’s quickness and magical protections that saved his life.

The Mind Flayer turned his attention to Celtir. Celtir was about to attack once more, when all of a sudden he realized the Mind-Flayer was not an enemy. Seeing no way to stop the raging Yuan-Ti from attacking, but wanting to end the conflict, Celtir grabbed Bootsy and dragged him back over the hole in the floor. His magical Air Walk still active, Celtir controlled their descent to the room below where they landed next to Frankie and Wencis. Looking up to where the other two were facing he saw the massive Yuan-Ti on the balcony. 

Looking up to the room above the Yuan-Ti called out in its hissing language, apparently calling off or dismissing the two in the room above. He then turned his attention once more to the four Companions of the Barrow. 

“So, you have certainly made quite the mess on your way here, haven’t you? I am Zoldathra, Master of the Word. I have been a member of the Vanguard for decades. Until recently, I thought I was privy to the greatest secrets of my organization. I was wrong.”

Celtir stepped forward, “Who or what is Sertrous?”

“Ahhh, a good question and one I shall answer for you. Long before history was even a notion, a demon prince named Sertrous ruled brutally over one of the Infinite Layers of the Abyss. Ambitious and predatory even by Abyssal standards, Sertrous was among the first demons to take an interesting the developing races of the mortal world. Hoping to use their worship to ascend to true divinity, he planned to overthrow even the gods. 

“It was not to be. Even as Sertrous began his ascent to divinity, he and a number of other ancient demons faced an uprising of their abyssal servitors. Those conspirators not banished to the depths of the plane were destroyed outright. Sertrous and some of his loyal minions were forced into the mortal world.

“Sertrous manifested as a serpentine entity with an insatiable appetite for living creatures. The Yuan-Ti and some feral humanoids were naturally drawn to the demon, to his strength. The weak were consumed in the name of his hunger. However Sertrous granted a tiny measure of his own power to a handful of the worthy, using them to explore this strange new plane. 

“As civilization grew and the worship of the weaker deities spread, Sertrous fell into an endless slumber. So potent had he become, however, that even asleep he observed the mortal world. His anger-filled dreams drove Sertrous to an unearthly transformation – a manifestation of the Abyss and the Material Plane, equally bound to both. 

The cult that had formed around Sertrous, now called The Slumbering Serpent, split in two. One faction continued to worship the sleeping demon lord as a demigod, while the other was driven by those Sertrous touched in dreams – infected by the demon lord’s desire to see the world thrown down and consumed. 

“Our current leader, Sulvagren is one of the latter. Driven by his dreams of madness, he wishes to complete the Sacrament of the Risen Abyss to bring forth a creature not intent to rule the world, but to destroy it.

“I believe that one day, Sertrous will rise and the Vanguard will rule in his name, but this travesty envisioned by the Vanguard’s current leader must be stopped. I dare not move against my leaders directly, but perhaps you can achieve what I cannot.”

Celtir thought for a moment as the companions shared a dubious look, “What is it you ask of us?”

“The Sacrament began a week ago, but the Vanguard is still gathering components to use in the rite. There are portals in the tower of the way, the tower you initially entered, that are attuned to destinations where some of these components can be found. If you use them, and get to the components first, the creature they are calling may be weakened.”

“Weakened? Can this rite not be stopped?”

No, it is too late to stop it completely. Too many of the components have been assembled. Your only hope lies in thwarting the collection of the last relics necessary for the rites and in harrying the so-called leaders of the Vanguard as they seek to complete their plans.”

“What are these relics you speak of?”

“There are four remaining. You would seek the phylactery of a lich, the king’s scepter, the blood of a race of fey and a stone tablet that was touched by Sertrous himself.”

“A moment please while I speak with my companions.” Celtir turned to the others and they whispered back and forth for a moment. Once the discussion was complete Celtir turned to Zoldathra once again. “What must we do to accomplish this?”


----------



## Abciximab

*On a Mission – Part I*​
Having agreed to the task and taking the time to rest and heal, the companions finally returned to the Tower of the Way. Having been instructed in their use they moved to the portals. Wencis turned to the others, “Which one first?”

A brief discussion and it was settled – the Lich’s phylactery. 

Stepping through the appropriate portal, they found themselves in a swamp. Small islets of dry land rose from murky water in spots. Cypress trees moss-heavy branches over their heads and the scent of greenery and decay was almost overwhelming. 

In the distance, crumbling walls of stone rose from the waters. Most stood some ten feet in height, though the southwest corner and a narrow chimney to the east were taller. These appeared to be the remains of an old keep, lost now to the swamp. 

Ahead of them a serpentine form coiled and uncoiled within the cover of a large cypress tree. Its humanoid head watched in the direction of the ruins. Amid the crumbling walls, also crouching for cover, they saw a green skinned woman of hideous visage. Almost simultaneously the two creatures noticed the companions. 

As Frankie and Wencis moved toward the green skinned hag, a glowing bead flew from the Naga and the resulting Fireball engulfed the Hag as well as the two companions. Celtir fired his bow at the Naga, as Bootsy ran into the muck to close the distance between himself and the creature.

The battlefield was quickly covered with balls and rays of fire, lightning bolts and magic missiles from Bootsy, the Hag and the Naga. Celtir continued to target the Naga with his bow Frankie and Wencis closed with the Hag, striking and slashing at her when they had the chance. They both were engulfed by the Fireballs and other spells that were targeted upon the hag by the Naga. 

Having suffered wounds from both Frankie and Wencis the Hag cast a quick spell and disappeared, reappearing a short distance away, behind a cypress tree. A burst of Magic Missiles from the Hag dropped Wencis to the ground. Celtir quickly ran over and healed his wounds as Frankie charged the Hag and finally was able to strike her down. As Bootsy summoned forth an Acid Arrow that burned the Naga’s Flesh, the others moved to close with the serpent.  Celtir prayers to Solonor were answered in the form of an energy filled storm that burned at the flesh of the creature. Between the continuing effects of the storm and the burning acid, the Naga quickly fell. 

Searching the area, they found little of value, though they did locate a small jeweled box on the Hag that they believed was the object of their quest. The companions quickly returned through the portal.

After another quick discussion wherein Wencis pointed out the fact that living creatures may be in danger, they decided to check on the Fey. 

Stepping through the portal they found themselves in a sunlit glade of deep green. Great trees towered above them and the smell of growing things filled the air. From ahead, they heard the sound of falling water. 

Celtir looked about, sniffed the air and knew right away, “We’re too late.” Over it all he could detect the faint coppery smell of blood on the faint breeze. The companions moved forward.

The forest opened up to reveal a small inlet on the shore of a lake. A narrow waterfall plummeted from a tree filed hill into a grotto lined with glistening stones. Where the water churned into a white froth, a number of corpses floated face down and others were scattered along the banks.

Over the roar of the water Celtir heard a sound, like a faint whisper. A gentle voice that seemed to emanate from the water fall was calling his name. As he stepped into the water, the shimmering mist of the falls suddenly took the shape of a woman’s face. Her features marked her as one of the Fey, but her eyes were glazed over with sadness. 

“I fear you are too late to aid us,” she whispered into his mind, “Yet you have the chance to avenge us.” 

Standing there in the water, Celtir knew he had received the blessing of the Fey.

----------​
Having returned through the portal, the companions had decided the king’s scepter would be next.

The air where they arrived was warm and the ground was dusty. High cliffs stretched in either direction all the way to the horizon. Two sharp ravines cut through them forming narrow valleys. Only scattered foliage broke the monotonous view of the landscape. 

Stepping into the ravine to their right, the companions felt a dry wind whipping through it that shrouded the echo of their footsteps and the calls of distant birds. Coming around a corner they were confronted with a reptilian creature covered in rust-red scales with horns on it head. It had a massive mace in one hand and a shield in the other, its two pronged tail twitched as tough with a mind of its own. 

Frankie charged foreword, slashing at the creature with his axe with Wencis close behind striking the creature with his hammer. A sparkling ray shot from Bootsy’s hand striking the creature square in the chest and it seemed to sag as if weakened. Celtir cast Air Walk and climbed into the air. With a speed that astonished the companions, the creature turned on Frankie and quickly smashed him three times with his mace, gored him with its horns and slashed him with its tail. Frankie’s magical armor absorbed much of the impact but the creature left him bloodied. He quickly answered the creatures blow’s with two of his own as his companions gave the creature all they had. An Acid Arrow from Bootsy, two arrows from Celtir and Wencis’ hammer all slammed into the great creature but it seemed undaunted as it pummeled Frankie again with another series of attacks. Knowing he would not stand against another of this creature’s devastating attacks, Frankie carefully fell back. Luckily the attacks from his companions dropped the creature where it stood.

As Celtir lowered himself back to the ground he hurried over to where Frankie was to heal some of his more grievous wounds. As they turned to continue on their way down the ravine, another one of the creatures appeared, squeezing out from a narrow space in the rock. 

Once again Frankie fearlessly charged forward and Bootsy fired another Enfeebling ray at the creature. Wencis’ Hammer and two arrows from Celtir followed close behind. Frankie was subjected to another round of attacks from this creature, once again leaving him bloodied. Frankie stood his ground, slashing back at the creature with his axe as an Acid Arrow from Bootsy burned at the creatures flesh. Wencis slammed at the creature with his electrically charged hammer and Celtir petitioned Solonor for another of his Holy Storms. Though both Frankie and Wencis suffered from the creature’s attacks, the companions were able to dispatch it quickly.

Celtir once again offered a bout of healing and soon the companions were ready to advance through the ravine once more.

End of Session 15.


----------



## Abciximab

Session Notes:

Things moved pretty quickly this session, worked through quite a bit. Yay!

Tristan was absent again. Doh!

A lot of spells flying and a lot of damage dealt by all (opponents included). Yay! (Doh!)

We have a marathon session planned to wrap up the trilogy. Yay!

Tristan will miss the endgame. Doh!

Yes, we’re quickly working up to the climax which will take place this coming Sunday, August 10th. We will have a long session (6 hours compared to the usual 2.5) that should wrap up the campaign and this story hour. I hope to bring these characters back someday to continue their adventuring careers (Barring TPK), but for now we’ll be switching to High Clerics campaign. 

I’m very interested to see how they do in the last encounter. I will say this, I’m running the last encounter as is. We’ll see how it goes. We’ll find out on Sunday. Hopefully you’ll know by the end of next week. 

Wish them Luck.


----------



## High Cleric

I have this feeling, call it foreshadowing from Solonor, that the rest stops might be a bit thin from here on in.


----------



## Abciximab

*On a Mission – Part II*​
Before they could go on, Bootsy stopped them. “These have been some tough characters. We may need all the muscle we can get. I found a few scrolls in the fortress. Two of them are Divine, but one is an Arcane Scroll of Dispel Magic. Maybe it’s powerful enough to get Tristan Back.” Pulling out the scrolls he gave two to Celtir and then raised the third and invoked its magic. In a flash, the tiny viper that was Tristan quickly reverted to his normal form. Just as quickly, the gnome was transformed into a tiny viper.

The companions stood silent for a moment before Wencis spoke up. “What just happened?”

Celtir bent over the new tiny viper in their midst to pick it up, but it lashed out at his hand, trying to sink its tiny teeth into the cleric. “It’s hard to be sure, but I think the scroll may have been cursed. While it did dispel the magic that was affecting Tristan, Bootsy seems to have fallen victim to the effect that was dispelled.”

Frankie looked down at the angry serpent. “Has his mind gone as well?”

Celtir was finally able to grab Bootsy just behind the head and the tiny snake finally relented. “No. He’s just pissed.”

As they gathered the gnomes equipment and Frankie shouldered the Haversack a new threat appeared. Flying out from behind a boulder was a floating orb with six eyestalks and a large central eye. Two beams lanced out at Wencis who was able to dodge them both. Frankie and Celtir quickly drew and fired their bows, both arrows barely grazing the creature. Wencis ran forward launching his hammer at the creature as Tristan took a moment to summon Moro to his side. 

The creature fired two more beams at Wencis, one of them burning him slightly, though he was able to dodge the worst of it. The creature was pummeled by hammer and arrow once again as Moro suddenly appeared. The Celestial Dire Wolf leapt into the air and fastened its teeth into the hovering creature and bore it to the ground where the wolf savagely ripped it apart. 

----------​
Examining the large cave where the creature had come from, they found a strange sculpture at the back of the cave. A large golden rod supported an array of six smaller gems on rods of brass. A seventh, larger gem formed a centerpiece, also held in place by brass. The design of the piece resembled a beholder, though the sculptor seemingly ran out of material halfway through. The gold and gems were clearly of greater worth than the bits of brass used to bind them all together.

Wencis approached the sculpture to get a closer look. “I think this is the scepter we seek.” He tilted his head as he gazed at it. “Yes, the scepter has been used to make this sculpture. I think I might be able to reassemble it given time.”

The companions took a moment to assess the situation and their state of readiness. Celtir finally spoke up, “We can rest here. Perhaps you can reassemble the scepter while we’re here.”

Wencis nodded and got to work. Focusing his mind he reshaped his essentia into a pair of ghostly gloves and started to work on disassembling the strange artwork. He found it more difficult than he expected, and unused to this type of work ended up inadvertently snapping off a small piece of the scepter.

Hearing Wencis’ curse, Celtir stepped over. “I think I have a simple prayer that could mend that.” Bowing his head and holding the pieces together, the piece was reattached by the power of Solonor. Smiling in satisfaction, Celtir stepped back to allow Wencis to continue his work.

It was difficult and frustrating work, but Wencis finally was successful in disassembling the piece. Reassembling turned out to be another matter. Without knowing exactly how the scepter was shaped he was unable to put it back in any useable condition. Knowing he could not succeed, he sat down in frustration to try and get some rest.

Seeing Wencis’ unsuccessful attempt, Celtir tried to reassure him, “Perhaps it’s enough that it cannot be used in the ritual.”

Wencis just frowned and nodded.

----------​
Returning to the fortress, the companions made ready to enter the next portal. Celtir murmured a quick prayer and there was a quick burst of light that filled the area and seemed to settle into each one of the companions. “According to Zoldathra this is the portal that takes us to another plane. This should protect us from any environment issues. Poisoned or lack of air, temperature extremes, that type of thing. Just remember you can still be hurt, gravity still affects you and magical affects will still harm you.” The others nodded and they all stepped through.

Instead of taking them to a new location as the other portals had, the green glow that wrapped around them suddenly flared. Every inch of their skin felt like it had been lanced with white hot needles even as their bones froze from the inside out. Just as they felt they could stand it no longer, they found themselves standing on cracked and broken earth. The portal behind them crackled and spit violently, its green light shot through with streaks of red.

Looking around, the companions saw huge boulders towering around them, half buried in the desiccated earth. As they started to move they noticed that no shadows marked the ground on the barren landscape. Above them the sky glowed a dull rust red with no clouds or sign of sun. A few dead trees dotted the landscape, while a dry streambed strewn with rocks cut through the ground ahead of them. Far beyond, sporadic hills marked the foot of a jagged black peak. 

Frankie headed for on of the tall boulders nearby. “Maybe a birds-eye view would tell us which way to go.”

Having climbed up the side of the boulder with relative ease, Frankie got a good look around. The dry, cracked earth spread out in every direction with few notable features other than the mountain. Looking toward the mountain he saw movement in the streambed not far from his companions. Behind a pile of stones was a roiling dark mass of writhing tendrils. The creature was coming around the rocks and headed in their direction. Then, a little closer to his companions, a hideous creature stood and drew a bow. The creature was probably once a Yuan-Ti, but its eyes were empty pools of blackness and its limbs seemed abnormally long. 

Before Frankie could even react to what he saw, the Yuan-Ti let fly two arrows. One barely scratched his left arm, the other would have pierced his heart had he not spun when the arrow struck, causing it to glance off his armor and pierce his left arm instead. Yelling to his friends he quickly snapped off the arrow tip and pulled out the arrow even as he was sliding down the boulder to the ground. 

As the companions spread out and advance on the approaching enemy they noticed some strange effects. Celtir and Frankie found themselves standing in a location some distance from where they intended to be, as if they had somehow shifted from where they had been. As Wencis approached the Yuan-Ti he sudden felt the ground beneath him shift and drop away and he dropped into a pit that had not been there a moment ago. Arrows from Frankie and Celtir still pierced the Yuan-Ti. While the creature bled freely from its wounds it showed no sign slowing and quickly retaliated with two more shots that barely missed Frankie yet again. Preparing to climb out of the pit, Wencis suddenly found himself back on the surface a short distance from the pit. Raising his hammer he threw it at writhing mass of tentacles as Tristan charged the creature, slashing it with Merthuvial. The creature quickly snatched up Tristan in one of its tentacles and started to squeeze. As the creature lifted him from the ground, a pit opened beneath Tristan’s feet. Had the creature not lifted him into the air, Tristan would have surely dropped into the pit. Dropping his bow for a weapon he was much more comfortable using, Frankie ran up and slashed through the writhing blackness with his axe. The mass seemed to lose its cohesion and slowly dissipated, dropping Tristan to the ground next to the pit. Two more arrows from Celtir and an electrically charged hammer from Wencis quickly dropped the Yuan-Ti. 

Once the combat ended, the random effects seemed to decrease in intensity for a bit and the companions were able to organize a search of the Yuan-Ti’s body. On his body they found the stone tablet, the last item on their list of artifacts. 

Now the companions found themselves wondering what to do with them. The tablet radiated evil, but did not appear to be magical. Noting that the random effects were becoming more prevalent once more, Celtir magically shaped a nearby stone to look like the tablet, in case they should need a decoy, and then they stepped back through the portal. 

Unwilling to return to face whatever Zoldathra had planned for them at less than full strength, the companions went back through the portal that led to the cave where they found the scepter to rest.


----------



## Abciximab

*Tower of Worlds*​
“Took you long enough,” Zoldathra sneered as the companions arrived in the library. “Have you succeeded in your task?”

Celtir just smiled. “Are we too late?”

“No, but the rite is almost complete. You must hurry to enter the Tower of Worlds and interrupt the ritual before it can be completed. You will have no chance at all if you do not interrupt Sulvaugren.”

“So we have heard. Show us the way, if you would.”

Zoldathra led them down a ramp to the next level down. There stood a single portal. “This will take you where you need to go.”

Celtir looked to Zoldathra, “What will we find when we get there?”

“I cannot be sure, though you can bet the tower will be guarded. His exact plans for the ritual are a closely guarded secret he has shared with only his elite priests and they are with him in the tower. I only have a general idea of what has taken place by what has gone through the portal, how much time has elapsed and my personal knowledge of the ritual.” With a smile Zoldathra added, “Good luck, you will need it.”

Still unsure of what they had gotten themselves into, the companions stepped through the portal. The arch they stepped out of was in the center of a room. From the ceiling, corpses in various stages of decay hung by chains and rusty hooks. Suddenly the light of the arch winked out and a massive shape rose from the darkness.

A mass of hairless, blubbery flesh surrounded them on all sides. Countless screaming mouths, rending claws and bloodstained teeth were all they could see. The flurry of activity that followed would have been hard to follow even if it hadn’t occurred in near darkness. All the companions slashed and pounded at the wretched tide of flesh that had engulfed them. Focusing his mind only on his prayers, Celtir was able to call forth a holy storm that burned at the flesh of the swarming creatures. Moro bit at the creatures as Frankie and Tristan slashed at them. Wencis pounded them again and again with his hammer. It was impossible for the companions to escape the grasping claws and rending teeth of the creatures as there were far too many to keep track of and each of the companions were quickly covered in bleeding wounds. 

Using all the skill they could, as well as a fair amount of magic and brute strength, the companions were finally able to decimate the mob and win through. As Frankie, Tristan and Wencis quickly moved to cut down the last few remnants of the mob, Celtir was already focusing on his healing prayers to close the wounds of all the companions as his summoned storm continued to swirl about the chamber. 

The companions moved toward the only notable feature in the room besides the darkened portal, a set of descending stairs along the western edge of the room. 

At the bottom of the stairs they found a room that was brightly lit by the glowing eyes and mouths of stone cobra heads that adorned the walls. The floor of the room was sloped and an enormous serpent was etched into the stones. 

Two hideous creatures slithered toward them, each with the body of a worm, the head of a snake and long, sinuous arms. They recognized them as the same type of creature Xernon had summoned back in the Barrow of the Forgotten King. Beyond them loomed a scaled figure, its hair a mass of serpents. In the blink of an eye Tristan was turned to stone. Averting their gazes the companions charged into the room at the snakes while Moro, angered by the loss on his master, charged the Medusa, tearing at her flesh pulling at her, causing her to fall prone. Wencis, his eyes closed, used his soul magic to detect the presence of the Medusa and was able to launch his hammer and successfully strike the creature. As the Medusa tried to stand, Moro was quick to savage her once again, ripping out her throat and dropping her to the ground once more, never to rise again. 

Frankie and Celtir wasted no time and attacked the two serpentine creatures with axe and bow. The worst threat having been eliminated Moro and Wencis turned to assist their friends. The creatures quickly fell to the companion’s onslaught. 

Once it was over, they turned to where Tristan's unmoving form stood. Moro sniffed at the statue that was his former master, and then with a soft whimper lay at his master’s feet like a massive eight hundred pound puppy. 

Celtir pulled out a couple of scrolls. “The divine scrolls Bootsy found might be able to break the enchantment that he is under.” He quickly unraveled the first scroll and, when its magic failed to overcome the enchantment, just as quickly unraveled the second. With the second casting, Tristan was finally returned to flesh.

Opening an ornate set of double doors on the southern wall the companions found themselves standing before a darkened stair that rose upward and outward. The journey up the stair was unsettling. Interrupted only by a sheet of flame that seared each of the characters, the trip up the stairs seemed to take an inordinate amount of time. After a number of minutes, the exact number could not be agreed upon by the companions, they arrived at another set of double doors. 

Each of the companions knew the source of the quest they had started in the distant town of Kingsholm, was near at hand.


----------



## Abciximab

*My Only Friend, The End.*​
The chamber beyond glowed with the light of demonic fire that seemed to burn the air itself. Three stone biers covered with serpentine imagery stood across the chamber. Two contained what appeared to be bodies wrapped in funeral shrouds. On the third, central bier was set a careful arrangement of yellowed bones. Three Yuan-Ti in ceremonial robes and hoods stood in a triangle around the biers, chanting in sibilant tones. Brass braziers emitted a noxious purple smoke. 

A forth Yuan-Ti that gave true meaning to the term Abomination stood before the central bier. He was monstrously obese, with multiple folds of scaly skin hanging from his jowls and neck. Rivulets of blood bubbled up from beneath his black eyes and flowed freely down his face. 

Before the creatures could react, the companions charged into the room. Wencis quickly ran up to the first chanting Yuan-Ti and was surprised to find it so engrossed in its evil litany that it made no attempt to defend itself as he struck it down.

Tristan approached the other chanter and seeing it unwilling to face him in combat raised Merthuvial above his head and charged the huge Yuan-Ti abomination. Moro ran up, and placing his paws upon the central bier, sank his teeth into the large abomination. Wencis’ hammer struck the creature as well. Frankie quickly ran through, dispatching the chanting Yuan-Ti Tristan had passed up and worked his way around the room. Celtir called out a prayer to Solonor, summoning a holy storm that almost filled the entire room and burned at the Yuan-Ti. 

The great Abomination tore into Moro with scimitar and teeth, shouting all the while, “Fools! I am Sulvaugren, Master of Worlds! Welcome to your Doom!” 

Frankie quickly dispatched the last chanting Yuan-Ti and followed up with an attack against Sulvaugren, slashing at him from behind. 

Sulvaugren savaged Moro once again and blood matted the great wolf’s fur as the other companions rained blows on Sulvaugren’s tough hide. Two slashing cuts from Frankie earned him Sulvaugren’s attention and the large abomination spun on him and savaged Frankie with tooth and blade. Frankie was left so bloodied by the attack, Celtir had to shift his position to heal him lest he be killed by Sulvaugren’s next attack. 

Sulvaugren was also bloodied by the combined attacks of the companions and continued to be burned by Celtir’s Holy Storm. Seeing his end was near, Sulvaugren called out, “You cannot defeat me! If you strike me down I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine!”

As he was viciously attacked by the companions, his flesh continuously burned from the storm, he raised his arms above his head and cried out, “For Sertrous!” before falling to the floor in a heap. 

Wencis looked to Celtir, “I have a bad feeling about this. I don’t think it’s over yet. You best deal out all the healing you can as quickly as possible.”

Tristan and Celtir did all they could as quickly as possible, healing all the companions most grievous wounds.

An instant later a dull thrumming filled the room as the floor began to shake and crack. With a sound like thunder, the central bier shattered and exploded, filling the chamber with a cloud of dust and rock.

Slowly the dust cleared revealing a large winged humanoid abomination. The Risen King had arrived. Rotting, green, slimy skin was stretched taught over exposed bone and sinew. The creature flexed its sharp claws and a roar came from a face filled with a mass of tentacles that hid the creature’s mouth full of razor sharp teeth. 

Even as the creature appeared, the companion’s felt another presence. The Forgotten King was here as well! His energy filled them and the weapons and artifact that once belong to the King and his followers. They suddenly knew what weapons they had that would be most effective. They new that the King would bolster their skills and abilities, allowing them to do things they might otherwise be incapable of. They knew this was the final battle in their quest for the Bones of the Forgotten King.

The moment passed as Celtir suddenly writhed in pain as a swarm of serpents seemed to burst forth from his skin, falling to the floor all around him. Then the creature slashed at Moro with tooth and claw leaving him bleeding heavily once more. The companions unleashed their attacks, but found the creature’s tough hide almost impossible to penetrate. Those weapons that did slash through its tough hide barely seemed to leave a wound. The only weapon that seemed effective when it struck was Merthuvial and for that, Tristan was the next to suffer grievous wounds at the claws of the beast. 

Celtir knew they could not face this creature in a stand up fight. “Fall back! Back to the room below!” He cried, before using the power of the Forgotten King to utter a prayer to summon another Holy Storm.

Frankie took one last slash with his axe and ran for the door, the beast raking his back as he withdrew. Trying to buy time for his companions, Tristan raised his blade, summoning help from the Celestial Plane, “To Me!” he cried. A Celestial Hippogriff answered his call, appearing behind the Risen King. Though the Hippogriff’s attacks were ineffective, the creature would help create a distraction so the companions could fall back. 

Just as Wencis and Celtir were about to join their companions at the door a large section of the floor was suddenly covered by ten foot long tentacles that grappled anything they could reach. The two found themselves unable to overcome the unbelievable strength of the black tentacles. Tristan and Moro stood their ground before the Risen King, unwilling to fall back and leave any of their friends behind. 

Demonstrating incredible concentration on both their parts, both Celtir and Wencis were able to call upon their divinely gifted abilities to escape. Wencis, using the power of the Forgotten King, called upon an ability that others like him might possess and created a Dimensional Door to escape from the clutches of the tentacles. Celtir simply petitioned Solonor for the ability to move freely, unrestrained by most bonds and quickly retreated to the door. 

Celtir called out again, “Down the stair everyone!”

The companions ran to the stair as one. Tristan and Moro both suffered raking attacks as they disengaged from the Risen King, but all the companions were able to make it to the stairs. 

The Risen King took a moment to dispatch the Hippogriff and then quickly followed the companions.

Once again it seemed to take minutes to traverse the stairs and to buy a little more time, Wencis quickly shut the doors then backed away as Celtir prayed for a Wall of Stone to appear directly in front of it. Just as the spell was completed, the companions heard the blows of the Risen King ripping into the doors and stone. They quickly formulated a plan as Celtir doled out healing. Surround it. Flank it. Summon another Holy Storm. Tristan, Moro and Celtir hid on the Stairwell going up to the entry-room as Frankie and Wencis stood along the northern and eastern walls to draw the creature out.

All too soon the wall of stone was reduced to a pile of stone and the Risen King rushed into the room, slashing and biting Frankie. The others surrounded the creature on all sides, hacking and slashing as Celtir prayed for another Holy Storm. 

As the storm appeared, burning at the flesh of the Risen King, the creature glanced at Celtir and once again, a swarm of snakes burst from his flesh leaving Celtir bloodied. The creature then returned its full attention to Frankie, who, against his better judgment, had switched from his trusty great axe to a small rusty dagger that the spirit of the Forgotten King had been telling him all along would be more effective than his great axe. Wouldn’t you know it, the damn spirit was right. Frankie just shook his head and continued his attacks.

Seeing that the companions were taking a serious beating, Wencis realized they would have to fall back again. “Go! Everyone upstairs! I might be able to trap this creature!”

The others had no idea what Wencis was talking about, but then again none of them truly understood his abilities or knew what he was capable of, so they made for the stairs as Celtir released a burning ray of energy that seared the creature. They felt despair when they saw Wencis caught in writhing black tentacles again and then suffer the savage attacks of the Risen King, but once again he was able to Dimension Door out. The others ran up the stairs as quickly as possible.

Then, just as he was about to spring his plan, Wencis writhed in pain. This time he was the subject of the Risen King’s Serpent Wrath. Hundreds of serpents burst from Wencis’ skin leaving him a bloody mess. Wencis slumped to the floor and did not rise. 

With a roar, the Risen King turned to the stairs and started up. Up above, the chamber was lit by the strobe effects of Celtir’s and Tristan’s Positive Energy Bursts. All too soon the Risen King was among them slashing and biting. 

Celtir once again summoned a Holy Storm as the others slashed with their weapons. Once more, the Risen king focused his rage on Frankie. When Frankie dropped to the floor in a bloody heap, Tristan was the next to suffer under the Risen King’s wrath. 

All the damage they had inflicted was starting to show. The Storm burned at the flesh of the Risen King and, as it raised itself to its full height and let out a loud roar of anger, Tristan saw his opening and thrust Merthuvial into the evil heart of the beast. Even as the vile beast vomited blood it seemed prepared to strike Tristan down. Praying to Solonor once more Celtir sent another searing ray of energy that blasted the face of the beast, burning the flesh from its skull. 

With a disgusting gurgle, the Risen King fell and slowly dissolved until there was nothing left but a pile of bones.

End of Session 16.

End of The Barrow Trilogy Campaign.


----------



## Abciximab

*Thanks to All!*

Yes, the trilogy has ended. It took the whole 6 hours to finish, but it’s done.

The running battle at the end was probably the highlight for all. The hit and run tactic was probably the only chance they had.

Some may notice I changed a few things. For one, the Risen King did not look like a human. I had a good mini I wanted to use, so I went for it. The abilities were basically the same but with 2 claws instead of multiple bastard sword attacks. I also removed his fast healing, the poison effects of the Evard’s Black Tentacles (The outrageous grapple check was bad enough) and the snake swarm from his Serpents Wrath didn’t contribute beyond the squares into which they appeared (once you moved they wouldn’t follow). Other than that, they defeated the Risen King as written.

Bootsy was absent. I think it would have made a big difference having an arcane caster.

We had a good laugh about Frankie having to switch from a great axe to a rusty dagger. Frankie loves his axe.

Frankie and Wencis both Survived. Wencis goes down, time for his first stabilization check, low roll to stabilize – 01%.

Frankie goes down, time for his first stabilization check, MundinIronHand passes his dice to Frankie, low roll to stabilize – 01%.

Thank you to any who have taken the time to read of our adventures, I hope you enjoyed the journey. A special thanks to those few (3) who posted. It was great to read your posts. 

I had hoped for more input, not about my writing or the quality (or lack thereof) of the writing (I have no illusions about that), but just to know who’s out there. I had really hoped to hear from others who had played the trilogy and how things went for them, but perhaps this series wasn’t very popular.

What will the Companions of the Barrow face in the future? Well, if we have the opportunity, I think it might be aquatic in theme. (Night of the Shark trilogy, converted to 3.5 perhaps?)

Thanks again to all. Now I have to put the finishing touches on my Human Duskblade (Sword and Board or Cheesy Spiked Chain?) for High Clerics campaign which will hopefully start at the end of September. We also have to figure out what we’ll do until he’s ready… Tristan says he has something in mind… 

Great, now I have to think of another character.

Fini.


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## Abciximab

*What's next for the Companions of the Barrow?*

*Epilogue​*
By some small miracle all had survived the battle. Once all were healed back to consciousness, the companions returned to the ritual chamber and searched through the rubble of the room. They found little intact. The sudden arrival of the Risen King had destroyed much of the chamber. As for Sulvagren, there was almost nothing left. All they found was a small amount of his equipment. The shield that had been stolen from the barrow was taken by Tristan. Nearby in a small pouch they found a bone scroll tube. Sealed within was a short note.

_Sulvagren,

Our preparations are almost complete. The Army of the Dragon is gathering. We shall strike Elsir Vale from the North and West while you strike from the South and East. We have established an outpost nearby to monitor activities along the western border of the Vale. Indeed, Drellin’s Ferry shall be the first to fall to our might.

Once your summoning is complete and your forces are ready, we shall crush the Northern Kingdom and then we shall move on to the other border kingdoms. The Realms will be ours!

While the Army of the Dragon is almost prepared, I will continue to add to their strength with the Gifts of Our Lady, summoned forth from Our Lady’s Infernal Court, Avernus.

Soon the all the realms will kneel before our might!

Azarr Kul._
Next to the signature was inscribed a red hand, five fingers outstretched.

Wencis looked up from the parchment. “Looks like we need to get out of here quickly and make our way to Elsir Vale.” 

With a renewed sense of purpose, the companions gathered their equipment, and made their way back to the portal.


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## Abciximab

*Direction Change.*

Well, it looks like the companions will not be returning anytime soon. 

After a short campaign by Tristans player (Which I hope may continue someday, I was having fun w/ my Barbarian/Dragon Shaman) we had a spur of the moment need to change campaigns. Since changing Red Hand to an adventure for 8th level characters was a bit too much work for spur of the moment (about 1 hours notice) we switched to Shackled City with fresh 1st level characters.

A lot more opportunity for Role Playing and NPC interaction with this one. The group has had a great start to chapter one so far. Hopefully it's at least as enjoyable as the Barrow trilogy.


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