Meet 78, Adv 5, 3/23/19

The Party had a chance to explore part of one of the Stolen Kingdoms, or Sovereign Lands; Canaslan. This is headed by a former mercenary Seljack of Madar, a fairly successful swordsman with 12 years of skill under his belt before he lucked out and had the Sovereign Stone on exiting the Terror Dungeon. His place is a "sellsword's haven" and the principle city is a former orcish trading city known as Paxian.

What's strange to the group, although the entire place stinks a bit of BO and beer, there ARE some redeeming qualities about the place that does sound attractive. For now.

Write up follows:

Paxian was at one point a minor trading city in the Ympire of Rand over a century ago but had been sacked during the dwarven assault and remained either a veritable ghost town and shattered remnant of its former self. When the Sovereign Stone was found almost 13 years ago and the Mercenary Seljack of Madar was lucky enough to be found holding one, the next area around Bork Keep that was open encompassed the moldering city of Paxian and it’s barely 1,000 residents.

Paxian, now the crowning jewel of the Kingdom of Canaslan, houses a bit over 10,000 souls and is known for having one of the largest and most active black markets in the nearest two dozen leagues. The group walked their way up to the city, having to pass through a shanty town of slurry roads and broken lean-tos where the scent of despair and drudgery filled the air. The walls to the city showed long ago damage that was inexpertly repaired and there was a run off from the wall to a pool where the people living outside the city brought buckets and gourds to get something to drink.

The outer gates were long gone, the portcullis had been torn free, and as we passed through the breezeway, we could see other signs of disrepair. The Courtyard was cordoned off by a palisade of wooden slat fencing, piled stone, and other barriers, the main gate was an ox cart laden with long sheets of metal, spears and spikes, and lengths of undressed lumber. We could tell that we were inside a “kill box”, bracketed on all sides by crossbow wielders on the other side, while two guards stood at the gate, each with a kris-bladed broadsword and a halberd at the ready.

They wore a mix of brigandine and scalemail and had tabards on, red, with a large “X” inside a circle. We identified ourselves, Barb taking point on the discussion where we got a list of rules and generally accepted behaviors in Paxian and Canaslan at large. Freedom of speech important, freedom of religion important, freedom of love and sex important ONLY if both parties interested, murder or the like sentenced to immediate death. All rules were sacrosanct and violation of them would result in being beheaded and your head stuck on a spike outside Castle Whitehall.

Touching on Castle Whitehall, everything else in town seemed to be in poor condition and barely held together, ruts in the cobbles, poor drainage, questionable buildings – but King Seljack’s castle was…perfect. White alabaster marble walls, blue tower tops, 4 or 5 stories tall, minarets, flying buttresses, and a the huge flag of red with a the X and circle – in complete contrast to the rest of the town.

We were invited to stay at the Fox and Henhouse Inn and Tavern in White Shadow (upper class district near the castle) and made our way inside. The main market square was mostly empty, a few vendors selling some meat on a stick or some left over vegetables that were remaining on their carts. A towering large half-ogre in an over-sized trench coat was watching the group as they entered and looked around. He motioned them closer and then asked them if they wanted to take a shit.

What?

He opened the trench and showed he had a cup of wet rags tied on his right knee, a foul bag tied on his left knee, and between them on the floor was a brass chamber pot. Yep, a portable outhouse. Most of the businesses won’t let you use their facilities unless you were a paying customer and being caught crapping on the streets of Paxian was a punishable offence, so for a bit – there were a group of a dozen or so half-ogres who set up this business for citizens who needed to go.

Thalin went, dropping a bit for his troubles, and we talked to the half-ogre, named Eydis, for a bit, getting his take on the city. On an average day he makes about 150 bits (his share) but on Marketday he could clear over 300 bits in 8 or 9 hours. We asked him the best place to stay and where to go and he suggested the Bawdy Wench Tavern, take the western main street up and around to White Shadow and the Tavern was there.

As we walked the streets of Paxian we saw some signs of commerce and industry, but easily 1 in 3 or 4 buildings were being underutilized, leading us to understand that Paxian could continue to grow and had plenty of room to do so. There were chicken about, quiet a number of them. And we also noted many of the shops and businesses had something to do with the brewing of beer. Malters, mashers, strainers, fermenters, conditioners, and the like – there was an aroma of sugar in the air as well as hops and barley.

We arrived at the Bawdy Wench Tavern and after getting a place to sit in the Common Room, a pair of wenches took care of us, taking our writ of stipend from the GRSAG to cover our room and meal, but also introduced us to a variety of local beers: Paxian Brown, His Majesty’s Deep Lager, Two Cask Beer, even something called Pumpkin Head Beer that Dizzy enjoyed. No one wanted to try the brew referred to as Grimyrian Shadow which we understood came from a trading deal with the nearby Sovereign Kingdom where the fields of barley were fertilized with “god knows what” and came from “the undead kingdom – no thanks!!”.

We drank, ate, sampled some braised steak on a stick and crusty buttered rolls, and had a nice night. The thought was to get some information about the crates and their costs as made locally here from whoever would craft such things, getting a price and seeing if we could use that the help sell the idea of the Letter of Credit to King Seljack. A few of the wenches and bandy-boys did try to make a run at the group but we shut them down and they knew that there was going to be no business for them tonight.

We rested and awoke the next feeling pretty good. The rooms were in good repair and had numerous safeguards and measures in place to dissuade casual thievery. At breakfast we asked the locals where the best place was to see about boxes and were told to head to the east end of town to the carpenter’s district.

We went on our way and say a number of men (and women) working with a variety of saws and the like, stripping long boles of trees and getting useable lumber out of it. We questioned a few now and again, learning that there was crate maker who made for the King himself on the next block named Hongor. Hongor was a middle aged dwarf who was working with his 3 journeymen when we arrived.

Once pleasantries were dispensed we learned that the King had indeed commissioned 24 such crates almost 5 months ago, first time he had done so with the specifications that they were more than twice as sturdy as the normal shipping crates (5’x 3’x 3’). When tested they could withstand 800lbs of force and had a double cross buck system supporting the inside and out. Each crate was built to exacting specifications and took about 2 days each to make interspersed with normal business.

So it was a surprise when a bit over a month ago he requested 19 more of them and only a week ago Hongor and his people finished the order. He would not tell us what the King paid for them, but if we wanted a similar crate, it would cost us 80 nobles per crate, with a probably discount if we ordered multiples of them. We thanked Hongor and armed with that knowledge left the woodworking district and made out way back to White Shadow and eventually Castle Whitehall.

We had a better feel for how we were going to handle the King and the Letter of Credit and arrived at the line outside Castle Whitehall where some 2 dozen stood in line in front of us. The King was meeting with people from 8 to12 and then again from 1 to 4. We were assured we would NOT meet with the king before lunch but would be shortly afterwards as he was with each group some 15 to 30 minutes before moving to the next.

Eventually another Half ogre with a trench coat and chamber pot arrived and we took advantage of his presence and then a travelling meat seller arrived and we took advantage of that as well. Eventually the line snaked in again and then after some traders from Grimyria went ahead we had our chance to meet with King Seljack.

He was well protected in a throne room seated on a raised dais, surrounded by halberdiers and crossbowmen, a leather clad woman was positioned behind him as if a bodyguard, and there was a small cordoned off section where sycophants and courtiers stood in audience. Seljack was about 50, thinning greying brown hair, still a muscular build, bearded and having a few scars and laugh lines on his face. A simple but well used kris style longblade was near his throne and he seemed to have a smirk and smile of a man who was comfortable and just in his place in the world.

Within a few minutes he was apoplectic in his anger at Pha-iyr Carom and the Greater Rand Sellsword and Adventuring Guild. We talked about the missing crates, the ignominy of the GRSAG, Pha-iyr being a cowardly prick, and the group being sent here to face his ire while the half-elf hid back in Erylond.

We tried to present the Letter of Credit in a good light, Seljack noting with irony that the Duke himself had been dragged into this mess. It seemed that Seljack and Pha-iyr had a long standing hatred and rivalry dating back 15 years to before the Terror Dungeon ever opened and the half-elf black listing Seljack when the Adventuring Guild first opened its books. Since then it’s not gotten any better and this “fortuitous destruction of MY property” is just the latest icing on the cake.

He did talk about his trip into the Terror Dungeon, The Glyph Gate for the Sovereign Stone was found on the 7th level, and something about Vampire hair was a component to help enter the place. We paid attention to that (along with wandering Minotaurs on the 3rd level!!) and knew that this could be bullshit or very outdated information since it had been 13 years since Seljack ever wandered the Halls of the Terror Dungeon.

Eventually he sounded like he would agree to it and we should come back tomorrow at lunch, eat with him, and he’d sign the two Letters of Credit then. We left without issue (passing a few guys sharpening metal spikes to put on the walls) and were back in the streets, north of Castle Whitehall and it was almost 2 pm.

We decided to visit the Black District for now but NOT go to see Thimbles until tomorrow when we were ready to leave Paxian and return to Erylond. On the north end of town, taking us the size of a city block, we were surprised at how…open it was. No one bothered us, as long we kept to ourselves and our money was good, we were welcome. We did stop at a weaver who sold double sided clothes and a few of us got some for now, allowing only a short time to effect a quick change of appearance. Some boots with hollows in the heels wrapped us up and we did not where Thimbles location was, a warehouse with the signage “Canaslan Export Company” upon it.

It was almost 3 on Spiritmonth the 6th and we were deciding what to do next.

Meet 77, Adv 5, 3/9/19

At this point we are bouncing to the Surface Group to give them a chance to catch up in time as well flesh out the other part of this adventure. It will be 3 or 4 meetings on the surface than a catch up of both sets and a hopefully another trip into the Terror Dungeon for something. Oooo, Aaaaa.

Write up follows:

We find ourselves going back 5 days in time, at the moment when the two groups diverged, half heading to Bork Keep, and the other still at Erylond and looking to get some work done for the Adventurer’s Guild.

It was Spirit Month the 4th around 9:30 when the party was ready to leave our room at the Flying Pegasus Inn and head off to the Greater Rand Sellsword and Adventurer’s Guild. We had a meeting with Pha-iyr Carom, the Guild’s facilitator who was going to give us a job to perform this early in our charter. It would give us some coin and allow us to show the Guild that we were happy to be promising members and able to help out.

Thalin, Merica, Barb, Dizzy, Hjalgrim, Percy, and Shimlagesh finished their breakfast and then made their way to their meeting. We arrived in a timely manner and two of the Guild’s Enforcers, a pair of Half-Ogre toughs, met us in the foyer and had a brief conversation with us. We divested ourselves of our weapons, chatted with them briefly, and then made our way to the lower library where Pha-iyr Carom was waiting for us along with another person.

An adult male Grey Elf was waiting there along with the Half-elven facilitator. Having that etheric thinness that many Grey Elves develop, the figure was wearing a set of Sorcerer Robes from the Arcane Academy and both him and Thalin expressed enthusiasm as seeing one another.

He was Paris, a nobleman elf from Tiloni, a major city on the northern portion of Rand, and at one point had been on of Thalin’s mentor’s during his time at the mage’s guild there before he decided there was more of an opportunity in potentially striking out on his own and joining up with other like-minded people in mercenary work.

Paris, along with other members of the Academy, had been getting Thalin’s missives for the last 2 years or so, about 1 a month, and following his trials and tribulations during that time. But, it was the seemingly increase in power and influence the one time apprentice had been amassing that was a source of conversation, and indeed envy for those who were still part of Tower life. How can a person in two years equal the skills, experience, and capabilities that a tower worked individual might have spent 2 or 3 decades achieving?

Paris had presented his arguments to the Tower council, including his own family who were on the board, and was told that he should not worry about such things and spend his decades with care building his path one small step at a time. This rankled the normally well balanced sorcerer who after 40 years of indoctrination, realized that perhaps Tower life was not the answer to the way of things. He was instead looking to show his skills and capabilities were beyond that of a neophyte magic user and was hoping to establish himself as a valid enchanter even with a Testing.

Most magics were beyond his skill so he took to performing longer rituals, powered by the blood and mana. Since he was lower level, he used blank requisition documents and presented them to the Local Magistrate for prisoners who were to be executed that day and used their dying to power some of the spells that were normally outside his purview. It did not go well – in fact it went poorly both times he attempted it.

Eventually he was called to Council where harsh words were bandied about and he left in anger and some disgrace. Already knowing where Thalin was and his own successes, he partook of the next caravan heading across the Randari plains in effort to arrive in Erylond and hopefully learn how Thalin was able to amass his skills and power in the face of the Tower’s teachings and learnings. And if possible, join the adventuring guild and the local Mage’s Guild.

Pha-iyr Carom had numerous documents supporting Paris’ skills and abilities, and was willing to have him meet the group – but his time with the group would be limited to his ability to learn to control his baser instincts and how to temper his time and maturity into working with the body as a whole. If his time with the party on this small mission went well, Pha-iyr Carom would green light his admission to the Guild and would pass on the approval to the Arcane Academy here to have his standing and rank transferred from Tiloni to Erylond. If he did NOT do well, then…it would suck to be him very quickly.

We talked for a bit and then came to what Pha-iyr Carom and the GRSAG wanted for us. We were to go to Canaslan, one of the Sovereign Kingdoms (actually the 2nd one) and meet with the King, Seljack of Madar in the capital city of Paxian. The story was that King Seljack had commissioned the GRSAG about 4 months ago for some Steel Wool (metallic wool found on subterranean sheep in the Terror Dungeon) from sanctioned adventurers – delivered after 3 months of gathering to Canaslan. He supplied 24 large wooden crates for the GRSAG to fill with the understanding that all crates, empty or full, were to be returned after 3 months.

A fire in the warehouse caused by an errant former member of the guild fireballing the area, resulted in 19 of the 24 crated being destroyed. So upon the completion of the contract, the GRSAG delivered 5 crates and three large bags of Steel Wool. Since then, there have been a month and a half of increasingly angry letters back and forth with King Seljack getting angrier and more belligerent each time. According to the letter of the Writ and the Esquire’s opinion – the Guild IS responsible for the crates. So, Pha-iyr is sending the party to Canaslan to meet with King Seljack and give him the letter of credit drawn against the Duke of Erylond’s own coffers for the full market value (and then some) for the 19 crates: 85 nobles per crate, for a total of 1,615 nobles.

There is no negotiating, the Letter is what it is – it’s the group’s job to make this offer and make it palatable. His signature needs to appear on each Letter and a copy of the Letter comes back here and the GRSAG will present it to the Duke at that time allowing the money to be withdrawn. We’re getting 3 crowns each for the job and the GRSAG will cover our room, meals, and lodging for 2 days.

While the paperwork is being drawn up we are told that Shandrilar, Wizard-Lord of the Tower of Winds, would like the group to pick up some material she had ordered from Paxian and Canaslan and is now ready – and we split up – Hjalgrim, Percy, Dizzy, and Barb head off to the Stinky Cat Inn (on Pha-iyr’s hint dropping to Dizzy of a potential avenue to meet with the local Thieves’ Guild) while Merica, Thalin, Shim, and Paris head off to the Magic User’s District to visit the Wizard-Lord in question.

The Magic User’s District is along the inner wall of the outer ring on the western side of Erylond. A sizable district, it is surrounded by a low 4’ wall with multiple gates. Six main towers and some 30 to 40 smaller structures make up the District and we follow direction to Shandrilar’s. It’s some 80’ tall, flying buttresses, fanciful carvings, and a spiraling blue and yellow color from base to roof. It has a fenced in area of 100’ square as its yard and we wait briefly to be allowed entrance. A palanquin is seen near the stables.

Once inside we find a dampening field that retards the magic a bit and then are led to meet with the Wizard-Lord in her dining area. She’s human, appearing to be in her 30’s, and is tall, almost 6’ and aloof. Her mannerisms seem aloof and after introductions are made she gives us her job. She requested a quart of Crested Dracomen from a gnomish “acquirer” named Thimbles, found in the Black District of Paxian. This type of blood takes some time to gather and once done, is potent for a few weeks before begins to spoil and she was just informed it was ready. She wants us to get it and bring it back. It’s already been paid for so all we need to do is just pick up the material and return without issue.

Sadly Paris had an abrupt way of speaking to the Wizard-Lord who vented her anger on the novice sorcerer who collapsed down screaming, his clothes whipping off his shoulders and lines and welts appearing on his skin. It lasted some 15 seconds where he then arose shaking and much cowed, convinced he had been tossed into Tartarus. She then repeated her requested and Paris answered much more contrite and willing to listen.

We took the job, she gave us 15 crowns (oh my god, she had NO idea what the job would actually be worth to do, overpaying the party who took the mission without saying a word) and we left going to meet the group back again at the Stinky Cat.

Meanwhile the other half of the group made their way further along the main thoroughfare, coming to the Stinky Cat Inn, a massive 3 story structure with its own stables and small smith house. The plethora of feral and semi-tamed cats littering the outside of the establishment gave credence to the place’s name. There was a large U shaped central bar, a decent sized minstrel stage on the right hand side, and a double wide set of stairs going up to the 2nd and third floor where and overhang balcony looked down to the main Common Room, large enough to seat 4 to 500 easily. Before entering, Dizzy did spot on the lintel of the main entrance and Guild Marking identifying the place as an Elysium: a safe place for all members to come and meet as well as a place where no crimes were to take place.

At the main bar Hjalgrim and Percy took center place attracting the tender over with long sweeps of his arms and a booming voice. Dizzy and Barb took a place furthest away along the left side at the end of the “U” where a tired wench in her 40’s took our order and Dizzy Canted to her a desire to “meet”. She didn’t reply but returned 2 beers to the pair of them and Dizzy was instructed to “drink up and quickly”.

At the bottom of his mug was a scratched message in CANT to “Sit at 3rd booth”. And to the area behind them were a series of booths privacy walled and poorly lit. Dizzy waved to Barb and left her at the bar before taking a seat at the booth in question with his beer. The Half-orc was enticed to join Hjalgrim at the bar leaving Dizzy on his own.

He sat for some time, watching the bar and seeing who might be the person in the Common Room he would peg as a contact for the Guild. Imagine his surprise when a portly, on the edge of obese, sweating man of late 30’s came from out of his blind spot and asked to sit with Dizzy “Just to rest a second”. He made lots of blowing noises and seemed to mop his forehead a bit before getting some information from Dizzy and Dizzy getting some from him. His name was Caetius and he asked Dizzy if he’s be willing to talk to a few of his Friends – since they have a different idea of what’s a good member and that he had been known to make harsher and less forgiving decisions in the past.

After introducing Dizzy to three others, a human woman named Varia with a cold attractiveness and an unsettling look in her eyes, a waifish young and thin boy barely 16 named Arritius, and a late 30’s Halfling named Syppon – Dizzy being entranced into playing a game of checkers.

The game was a ruse and Dizzy was questioned by the 3 of them who had different ideas they were looking for. Varia wanted loyalty and honesty, Arrituis wanted someone who could be part of a group, and Syppon wanted someone who wasn’t into it for the thrill but had more of a clearer view of the long term aspects of his decisions. After the conversation went on for a bit, Caetius returned and flat out said he didn’t like adventurers. They owe allegiances to the guilds and their groups first and the Thieves guild end up getting the short end of the shaft. Their guild has a deal with the mage’s quarter and it’s been working well for them.

Dizzy tried to sell them on his ability to act as an impartial outsider who can vouch for Thieves guild members if need be, plus his party has 5 different mages and sorcerers already in their ranks so it makes sense to tie their skills together. Caetius was unsure and was willing to revisit this later. Right now the group had a mission to Canaslan and Paxian and something to do for Shandrilar of the Tower of Winds and if that went well, he would take it as a provisional ok that Dizzy could be admitted on a trial basis.

At this point the entire group got back together and we shared all we had learned as well as advised Paris to tread more carefully in the future – a consensus he seemed to be more apt to do along with a few much needed flagons of Ale.

We left the following morning on Spiritmonth the 5th, heading east down the maid road out of the Tradegates. The land within 3 or 4 miles of Erlyond was all farms and the like, well traveled and used. However as we went further away the population diminished and we were walking in mostly unsettled territory. It took us the better part of the day until we came upon a singular strange phenomenon – the air before us shimmered as if from a heat mirage, but nothing was there.

As we passed through the temperature rose from upper 40’s to upper 50’s and the air took on the scent of beer and ale as well as the faint underfunk one gets amidst unwashed clothes. The straight lines of the fields took on a bit of a wave and seemed less clean and crisp. A few people we saw welcomed us to Canaslan, and from their stance, seemed a bit…inebriated.

It was closer to 5 when we spied a main road travelling north off the highway, heading about half a mile to a walled city with a singular white castle seen even from this distance. That had to be Paxian, and there we would eventually meet with King Seljack.

Meet 76, Adv 5, 3/2/19

We lost another person at the table this week and it was a blow for me personally being as I regard him as a good friend. I had no direct idea it was coming and for myself, I was ill prepared to learn that he was not coming back and saddened. It happens, sometimes in this hobby people's lives change and the ability to free up time diminishes, but my argument has always been that in a 168 hours, I am asking for 5, maybe 6 if you include drive time. It's not even close to breaking and not every week.

So this means I have to find another person to fill the seat which I hate doing. Luckily I had only done this 7 months earlier when we found Rik and at that time I had 3 other people who I had promised I would keep their information if something worked out.

One of the 3 was still available and we met him, he checked off the minimal amount of boxes I was looking for, and we offered him an invite which he was thrilled to get and will be here on the 9th to roll up his character and sit down with us.

As for the group, they finished a local exploration of Entrance 3 and decided to cut bait while they still had time on the clock. They really want to get the Chime of Exiting and are hoping to make that their direct destination the next trip in.

Write up follows:

The group spent a good amount of time looking over the remains of the trophy room, knocking the walls for secret doors and trying to get a feel for the chamber, meanwhile Avulstein was working on a raising the fleshy skeletal remains of the Ogre. Once the ritual was done it staggered to its feet and took a few instructions to get situated with its new place in life.

Once we were set we lit two more new torches and Sybil checked out the door back to hall. She heard nothing and we opened the door, torch light spilling out when she a gasp from down the hall and then breathing and running feet. She slammed it closed and let us know what was going on. We then waited a few minutes before she opened it again, the torches held away from the portal so her infravision could kick in.

Nothing was out here now and we risked some torch light along with the light already down the hall and then emerged with care. Something had disturbed the bloody area the ogre had been killed in and we came closer to further identify what happened. There were large bare footed bloody footprints running down the hall away from us to the north and along the wall a number of spears in the wall and gore of some taloned 3 fingered hand that was again, taller than us and larger than normal human sized.

We took a blanket and laid it across the blood to avoid trailing our own and Sybil, Connal, and Negan crossed the gore, Brading and Gryg stayed close, Darius and Avulstein (and the ogre skeleton!) watched the hall to the west to make sure nothing snuck up on us. There were three doors on the hall, two on the right, one on the left, and in the gloom it looked like there was a door at the end of the long hall.

The closest door had a number of gnaw marks on the bottom, and a few in the center and top of the door, as if something inside the room gnawed its way out long ago. It was in poor condition and looked like it had been forced many times in the past and then hammered back into place. A faintly wavering orange glow was coming from within the chamber seen through the cracks, but we couldn’t tell what it might be.

The next door, some dozen paces down the hall also looked like it had been forced in the past. The scent of rot, salt, and a vinegary smell. We assumed pantry and decided to move on for now. The last door was on the opposite side of the hall. We gave a listen and heard nothing. That left the main door at the end of the hall. It was closed an according to out torchlight, whoever ran here (whatever!?) hit the door, fumbled for the knob, left bloody hand prints on doing both, and then most likely stepped through.

We decided we didn’t want to do that at all. We scattered a few bags of caltrops just to make sure and then went back to the middle door. We took our time and Darius who was keeping track of it for us, let us know we had time to look at one door only and then we should get the hell out of here. The door was opened and there were stone shelves filled with rotting stuff upon it. In a semicircle pattern just inside the door was a large dumping of salt and the walls and floor has some sort of olive green and red veined slimy coating upon it. We assumed slug?

Either way – we wanted nothing to do with it for now. So we shut the door, reconvened together, and began our walk back to the entrance, supposedly about 2 hours plus before the entrance would move if Darius and Brading’s estimate was good.

Back through the table room, back through the zombie room, and back through the long hall we stopped at the door and could hear voices on the other side. The same deep masculine sounding voices speaking a language we didn’t know, and the feral piping sound of goblin voices. Shit. How many? At least half a dozen, maybe more.

Ok, we listened for a bit and were able to deduce the goblins were talking to the other figures who were guarding the room on supposed adventurers and one of them was named Hrabi. We didn’t think they were leaving any time soon so we hatched a plan – we would cast silence on the ogre skeleton, send him in to attack anything inside there, and then while distracted, we would charge up the stairs and get out before the crap hits the fan.

We all drew weapons and got ready, Brading cast silence and the Ogre went in we waited until we could hear ourselves again and then charged in. It was 20’ to the steps and as we hit them and started climbing, we had the chance to see a dozen goblins and three 8’ tall almost naked blue skinned figures shouting (silently) and pointing. We ran, calling for the dwarves to open the door while whatever was giving chase emerged from the silence spell in the gloom behind us, its roars were rippling the air and we could feel it buffeting the group as we charged the doors.

They were opened and we all ran inside, the amulets doing their job as we cycled through the lock and the doors were shut and chained once more.

We emerged again a bit after 1 in the morning and were met with Kara and the dwarven guards once more. They let us know the blue creatures were Quillians and if they roar long enough, people fighting them become flustered and confused during the combat, swinging wildly.  We went off to the Mess Hall where a round of beer and whatever foods were still available were eaten and discussed what happened and what our next objective was.

Besides going in and checking out Entrance One, the thought was to go back to Entrance Two and find out where the Glyph Gate to the Chime could be found. We knew enough that is was in that area. While discussing possibilities, Brading suggested just asking the two adventuring women we had met in the dungeon and the bar earlier today (Ketik and Abera) to at least eliminate some possibilities for us and offer to pay. We knew they were leaving tomorrow so we decided to switch to the Second Visitors Hall where they were staying and approach them in the AM.

We fell into an exhausted sleep and it was a bit after 8:30 that the two adventuring women woke us up with the sound of their packing. They apologized for their noises and we talked briefly about our 2nd trip in (still not a Foray) and what we had learned. We allowed the conversation to flow for a bit and shared our Ogre sized pipe with them along with some halfling’s weed while the party steered them around the conversation for a bit until we touched upon the Chime and how to get one.

At this point Negan excused himself to go to the bathroom and went outside to the lavatory where he called upon Odin to allow him to Read Mind – pushing his efforts through until he could settle on Ketik and then Abera who although the female fighter had been quiet, her thoughts were different and quite talkative, letting Negan know much about where they should go and what they should do. Meanwhile inside the Hall, we had offered a small pile of gold for some information on what to do from the 2nd Entrance and were told to go down the North Passage, the one with the archways – which Connal using his enchanted headband was able to verify was NOT a lie.

Eventually we thanked them enough and they left, we shared what we had learned and agreed that we should take a day to rest up and swap some spells around, then go back in tomorrow (around 3:30) to the 2nd Entrance and try to find the Glyph Gate. Negan did let us know that Abera had mentioned something about Brass bits so we were going to go to the Castellan and see if we can get some change for the time being.

Meet 75, Adv 5, 2/9/19

The group got MUCH further along this time and have gone on to explore a bit beyond the 3rd entrance. The goal, according to them, is not to spend a few days down here, but to map out a bit and then leave before the 8 hour limit and then to the same for the other areas as well. THEN they'll go further in for a more defined foray.

Write up follows:

The base of the door had a layer at least half of foot of greenish filth corroding the bottom of it, and we know our torch light had driven some mice and rats in the hall ahead of us and under the door. The sweet stink of rot was pretty heady as we finally opened the door and took a look in.

The floor was pretty rank with a trough of some sort of decaying flesh shoved against both the left and right sides of the corridor, leaving about 5-6’ of clear walking space that was covered by a thin layer of ooze. The walls seemed damp and the smell of decay and rot was pretty strong. Looking ahead it was 15 or so feet of passage before it opened to a larger room. We could just make out a closed wooden box and the edge of a couch but little else. The far end of the room had a glow to it as if lit from a corridor nearby but we couldn’t tell for sure.

Brading fired up a light spell for us and with some tossing, we managed to send the stone with the spell upon it across the chamber. The room had 5 very large couches and 4 covered wet wooden boxes. Each couch had 3 or 4 dead naked bodies upon them. The bodies were placed on the couches in sitting positions and each one showed feeding from the knees down from the vermin that inhabit the area. There was another corridor all the way across the room that led to the east but we’d have to enter and no one was comfortable about it.

Plus, with the treacherous floor, we were going to be forced to move very slowly to avoid falling. If the room was all zombies, no one wanted to enter as we’d be slaughtered. So the decision was to have Negan ask Odin for a blessing and let us know if there were any undead in the area.

Four.

Four of the dead bodies, all on different couches, were tied to the negative plane. We all backed up into the hall and Darius let fly his sling, hitting the furthest Zombie and then hitting it again. The figure stood up and began to walk towards us, and then within 10 seconds, the other 3 did the same. Sybil shot off her own rock and the two of them took turns peppering the slow shambling undead with shot and stone. Brading was ready to turn them but we kept picking at them.

A strange thing, each time a zombie took some serious damage, it turned to one of the other dead bodies in the room and took a bite of the flesh, fixing the wounds they had taken from the group. We changed our tactics to finish off each zombie that was stopping to eat others to prevent them from healing. Two of the zombies were very close, each of them tearing a bit of couch apart to hold in front of them like a shield as they were almost at the door.

One made it through and the last one still moving in the room was killed. Brading, Negan, and Connal hit and struck the closest zombie who threw its couch cushion away and then grabbed Connal who was right in front of him. He lifted the monk off the ground and was staggering back into the room when Darius brained the zombie and tore the top of its head off with a well slung bullet.

Combat over we took stock of ourselves and after some light healing we entered the room. The couches, bodies, boxes, walls – everything was damp. The stink was growing on us as we no longer felt like retching. Sybil touched the boxes and assured us they were pretty rancid and water logged, but sound. After talking about it a bit and making sure the next corridor was clear (at least 20 paces, slow burn torch on the south wall, and it opened to some larger chamber beyond) the Halfling and monk made an attempt to open the closest box.

Pushing didn’t work, spear tips didn’t work, poles didn’t work. The top was pretty tight on and water logged swollen. Finally Connal moved Sybil aside and used a crowbar to force the top open. A blast of gritty dust spewed out, coating the monk and the surrounding area. He waited a moment for them to disperse before he was able to look inside. The cover and most of the top of the box had some sickly looking green mushrooms growing in it and the majority of the box had what seemed to be various body parts: arms, legs, hands, torsos, it was disgusting.

Gryg and Avulstein were concerned about the mushrooms and suggested they might be harmful. It was then that that all the exposed bits of cloth on Connal’s body started to rot, fast. Brading called forth a create water spell and the monk quickly took off his armor and washed himself and his backpack in the spring while the cover was replaced and the group moved away from the mess. Spore Rot Mushrooms if agitated release spores that devour cloth quickly and spread the fungus to new areas. Once he was sure he was cleaned, the straps on his backpack were repaired, he had to discard his worn out rotted clothing and put on new ones, and some of his other cloth items were now garbage.

We lit new torches and travelled off to the east, walking the corridor with care. The passage eventually opened to a 30’ square room with a table in the center about 10’ diameter, a door on the north wall, a tapestry on the south wall, and a passage continuing to the east. Sybil gave the group the green light but stopped us as she looked at the table.

Four candles were burning on it, melted upright and stuck on the surface. And the table was levitating in the air. Floating there without legs or support. We went in and looked around. The tapestry on the wall was 20’ wide, 5’ tall, and showed three women drinking wine and eating grapes in a room that looked like this one, sitting at a table. While we discussing what to do, we heard the distant sound of something moving from where we had come from and coming closer.

The group hid, weapons out, while some figures came closer and stopped just at the corner of the last room. We could faintly hear some noises and using Brading’s mirror on a stick, they were able to see two bugbear looking figures, only VERY thin and emaciated, looking down in our direction. One of them took a rock and tossed it and waited. We watched it hit the floor and bounce. Then they did it again. Again, we were quiet.

It was when we saw them bend down and go to pick up one of the wooden boxes that might have spore rot in it that Connal opened his mouth with a fake deep voice and yelled, “That’s enough!!” What followed was a conversation where the two coming thought we were Zakthar’s men and they were investigating possible “’Venturers” who came in the “Fucking Quillian’s didn’t do their job.” We made as if they never came this far and most likely left. Then the two of them volunteered to “reset the damned zombies if you don’t want to” and we said we’d take care of it.

Supposedly there’ll be a meeting in a few hours near the “old alchemy lab” to discuss what everyone found and then they left and we waited until we heard doors closing.

Brading and Avulstein confided in the group the figures seemed undead but were self-willed and aware – which could be ghouls, ghasts, wights, or the like. Fucking wonderful. Not wanting to go BACK that way now, we decided to finish investigating here and then moving on. The table, we tested it out. It could be moved and raised and lowered but required a bit of force to do so. And if the candle was extinguished, that side of the table fell to the ground.

Sybil was checking out the north door when she noted a strange odor, got light headed and passed out. Then Avulstein checked out the door and again, strange odor and knocked out. While all this was going on, Gryg had checked around the corner down the short corridor and it was a long hall, at least as long as his infravision, but there was a small stool some 20 odd feet down on the left side, with something hot and cooling sitting next to it.

Shit.

We were waking up Sybil and Avulstein and checked out the stool. It was a larger than normal 3 legged stool, and there was a hunk of what seemed to be well eaten cow bone there and a slightly larger than normal clay pipe still warm with a dying bit of halfling’s weed within. Something was here, not even 10 minutes ago, in this hall, guarding, and probably heard us screwing around in the table room.

Then we heard a distant door open up down the hall and we ran back to the table room, weapon at the ready and shaking as we heard 1, 2, 4, 5 LARGE figures coming down and muttering in a strange language that Negan and Brading identified as Ogre. 5 Ogres? Run. Run now.

We ran back to the zombie room just ahead of the approaching Ogres, raced to the other door, and filed in, pulling it shut and bracing it closed while Gryg and Sybil ran down the long hall to the other door and stopped to hear MORE voices in the “exit” chamber, male, deep, confident, and talking in a tongue no one could recognize. There were at least THREE of them in there. Shit shit shit.

We heard the ogres come into the zombie chamber and talk. One of them reported hearing adventurers to another ogre names Zakthar who was happy to hear about it and we’d “see who they were soon enough if they were still around”. They looked over the mess and spent ten minutes doing something in the room where they were “resetting the zombies, going to take 10 minutes.” The lone Ogre was to stay on guard, and report to Zakthar about the group if they came back.

We waited until all was quiet, had to light 2 more torches, and then another 10 minutes just to be sure. We then opened the door and looked in. The bodies were back on the couches and the room looked as it did before. Se we once again starting with Darius and Sybil, started slinging rocks into the room to see which dead bodies get up. And there were 4 of them again, different ones from before, and they shuffled towards us slowly while the three of them and Gryg’s blunt bolts and Brading’s hurled axes whittled the undead down until the last were killed again.

We took the bodies and put them BACK on the couches and made our way towards the table room again. It was here that a wind started blowing towards us, gathering in strength until it was whistling through the air for a bit before eventually slowing down and growing still again. Gryg was able to scent burning halfling’s weed on the breeze, leading us to suspect the pipe smoking ogre was back at the stool.

It was with great care that we inched forward and Sybil snuck up to look around the corner – one ogre, 9’ tall, sitting on a stool, smoking a pipe, and casually eating a large cow bone rib.

We discussed plans and settled on a Silence spell from Brading on a coin and then a Bless spell from Negan and then the party race around the corner and waste the bastard as fast as we can while Brading runs PAST the Ogre to make sure that no noise carried down the hall.

Three, Two, One.

Gryg hit the corner first and fired his crossbow, striking the Ogre who reared up followed by Negan and Connal charging up and Brading shooting past. Negan’s sword slammed 2’ of metal into the Ogre’s chest who was silently screaming while Connal delivered punishing blows and Brading sliced his battleaxe. Then Darius and Sybil shot bullets with devastating force. Total assault – 16 seconds.

Ogre dead.

He was dead long before he hit the floor and the group was thrilled. We checked him over, getting what we could off of him while Avulstein suspected we only had a few seconds of silence left down the hall. We all retreated as he placed his hands on the Ogre and cast Strip Flesh – covering the room in gore and leaving a skeletonized Ogre behind.

Darius, Connal, and Avulstein were discussing the merits of doing this now, possibly raising the Ogre, and getting the hell out of the hall when Sybil and Gryg checked out the closest door in the hall. Untrapped and open, it revealed itself to be a long trashed trophy room with signs of adventurer’s stay in the past. We decided it would do for now as we dragged the body in, we all entered, and then shut the door, pushing the iron shanks at the top and bottom of the door into the drilled holes and sealing the room closed for now.

Meet 74, Adv 5, 1/26/19

Finally! The group had the chance to enter the Terror Dungeon Twice. The first time they met with a decimated group emerging and then triggered the "wandering monster" summoner. Which resulted in three rolls. And to the groups point of view, it was 4 fire beetles, two giant toads, and beholder.

Again - to the group's point of view - I'm not saying anything about what I rolled.

Anyway they ran for it and had the shortest time in a dungeon I've ever had the pleasure to DM except for maybe a half hour on my daughter and wife's ill fated treck into the Caves of Chaos long ago.

They went back in some time later and so far it's much better

Write up follows:

After enjoying a meal, we were summoned to the central keep to meet with Lord Corface Bork, a 60’s year old human male with the shakes and some sort of musculature disease. With him were 5 others: His Chancellor Kent Ra’al, a 50’s year old squint eyed human male, His Herald Thester Clantik, an adult aged spindly simpering dwarven male, His Castellan a youngish half-elven cautious looking male named Helmut Thranglerod, the Keep’s Curate, a late adult dwarvish male with a kind face named Ampar Earthwise, and the Keep’s Runesmith, Rogar Giantbane a fatalistic adult male dwarf with a number of permanent inkstains on his finger tips.

We talked to the group for a while, presented our paperwork, talked about other adventurers, the sovereign kingdoms around Bork Keep, various rules in the dungeon and out, and finally how the runestones will work for us on getting in and out of the dungeon. It was almost an hour of deep conversation before we purchased a 7 count of Runestones and committed ourselves to entering the Terror Dungeon on the morrow.

We wanted to wait until after the exit steps had moved so timed our entrance for 11:40 or later. We presented ourselves to the official on duty who took our names and group and had the two guard dwarves open the heavy iron doors. The entrance a 10’ circular hole in the ground where we could see broken stone and dark runes surrounding the entrance where the steps descended into the gloom.

We entered and the 4th step down the runes on the rock lit up in time with our rune stone and each person who entered could feel a crackling run up their skin as they descended. The temperature was a mid 50’s or higher. The steps turned to the left, spiraling down at least three times before a glow from below showed some sort of light ahead. A faint vinegary smell was in the air as we finally came to the first room. A chiseled “2” was on the wall here and a torch was sitting in a sconce on the south wall.

Room was 40’ square and discarded torch stubs, bits of armor, busted shields, general garbage littered the floor, testament of past adventurers who had come through here. A number of chalk marks were on the wall outside the steps going up, many of them times settling around 11:00 to 11:35 and again from 7:10 to 7:40. Some had been crossed off, most of the outliers, leaving the group to understand other adventurers had marked the time IN and OUT at the steps in the past.

Two open passages on the north and south wall, east side of the room went off into the dark, and two archways on the same walls on the west side of the room. North archway looked like an ogre’s open mouth along with fangs, South arch looked like ragged spears and knives.

Some chalk writing about frostmen and another about having a torch available. Marking near the torch showed 23 crosshatchings as if someone was keeping count. While we were going through everything we heard heavy footsteps coming closer from the south passage. Retreating to the steps we drew weapons and drew ready – to see 2 human females in various stages of disrepair, one laden with three large sacks and the other carrying a 3rd person, human male, on her back in a fireman’s carry.

On seeing each other the two women gave a groan of satisfaction and identified themselves as Ketick and Abera. The 3rd was their leader, Nelborg, and they had fallen in something called “The Pit Room” on the 2nd level where they tumbled down to the 4th level and had to fight their way out. They lost 3 of their party (the paladin to holding off an invading giant ant army) and were hoping to get Nelborg raised from the dead and then debate on going back in again.

We gathered from their conversation that they were higher level than us and after they left we talked about our options.

The decision was to take the corridor they had come from first, map for a bit, and see what happens next. So with Sybil walking point, we went south, ignored the side passage that went off to the east and ended at a “T” and continued on to the a turn to the west and then a door with a pull handle. Giving it a once over for traps, we opened the door to see the skeletal remains of an ogre sized creature with 2 sets of arms, blood stains and smears everywhere.

We debated long about what to do as we inched in closer and closer until an unseen wind blossomed over the skeleton and then gale forces tore about the room and the bones began clacking and shifting. We turned to run as a peal of thunder sounded and a voice shouted “RUN! RUN FOOLS! YOUR DOOM IS UPON YOU!” as lighting shot through the figure and sparks flew. We slammed the door behind us and hit the stairs as the dungeon shook and quaked about and the noise echoed everywhere.

And then we heard it, buzzing loud, deep, and menacing coming closer. From the south passage 4 Fire Beetles came around the corner as two of our party stood in their way, the 4’ glowing large mandible bugs trying to get past. From the north passage under the Ogre’s Teeth arch came 2 ¾ ton 8’ tall giant toads hopping into the room and looking around. We were going to turn and run when coming behind the beetles was a 4’ diameter floating green and blue chitonous covered large mouthed levitating slavering beast with a huge central eye and almost a dozen tendrils on its head each with ANOTHER eye.

“BEHOLDER!!!” the group shouted and turned to run. The Fire beetles made a grab at us but we charged away, spiraling up and shouting above to “OPEN THE FUCKING DOORS!! NOW !!”

The two huge metal portals groaned under the weight and then were pulled aside as we scrambled out of the Terror Dungeon and the dwarves let the chains fall slack as the passage closed behind us. The officiate looked at his log and said, “41 minutes.”

What?

“You, your party. Was in the Terror Dungeon for a total of 41 minutes”. We had some words with him and he commented that we were “loitering” when Avulstein lost his patience and the group left to go to the messhall and get a drink and rethink what the hell they were going to do all the while muttering, “a Beholder! An Odin-damned fucking BEHOLDER?!”

First order, get drunk. Second order, do NOT go in that set of steps at all for the rest of the day.

At the messhall Ketick was there and surprised to see us (yes, even THEY were doing their own first order of getting a drink). We told her of what happened, she mentioned the Ogre skeleton room was designed to alert any wandering monsters in the area and the secret was to not dilly dally, just go through it.

We went to Castellan after some drink and purchased MORE oil and MORE torches. From there we went to the butcher who was working on some animals and had a pig strung up, and allowed us to fill a flask with its still warm blood. We then went back to the visitor’s hall and rested.

By 7 we were ready to try again. We reequipped, made sure we had all we needed , and made our way back to the entrance. This time a new officiate was there, a farm girl named Kara who was working here for Lord Bork because she had her letters. Darius and she struck up a conversation before the group went back to the steps and once more, made our way back to the Terror Dungeon.

This time the steps took us down and there was a haze to the air. An earthy smell hit us as emerged to a room with 4 doors, one on each wall. More detritus on the floor, more chalk times. A note about a pressure plate trap, another about healing potions from Nythis. Door on the east was marked “To the fountain” and below it someone wrote “better if you have the Horn”. Torch lit on east wall had runes of prayer to Loki and the Norns about it and a pyramid of stones was below it as if an offering. The door to the north had some faint humanoid voices, door to the south smelt faintly acrid.

Ok, different set up. We lit a few torches and went east to the fountain first. Sybil led the way as we went to the corner, turned north, and could see some light from an opening to the right in the hall. We checked out the rest of the hall that turned back to the west and ended at a door with a turn handle. Sybil gave it a solid once over and let us know the door was trapped for sure – probably multiple times. We opted to ignore it and go back to the opening which ended in a 30’x30’ room with two torches and a fountain.

Showed lizard like creatures happily playing and a stylized Yggdassil tree where water was trickling out of 9 openings. A silver cup on a small chain was attached to the fountain and along the base were older style runes carved into the surface. We made a rubbing of the runes and then spent some time deciphering them. “The Skein of the Norns have brought you here at this time to drink. May Loki bless you as you drink and may Helmut fudge the dice rolls in your favor.”

We opted NOT to drink at this time, assuming it was magical and there was a mention of a Horn, like a drinking Horn? That would be better.

So we went back to the main room and took the west door . The ceiling was just about 10’ tall and there were smears on the ceiling, finger tip smears running the long way south. The passage had a jog to the left as we went down and as we progressed , Sybil let us know the smell ahead of us was taking on a faint rotting odor. There was a door here, closed, and after Sybil let us know it was not trapped we readied our weapons and got set to open it.

Meet 73, Adv 5, 1/19/19

As I mentioned, I had to advance time a bit, and the party the chance to meet with the local sage, Julian, who was a font of information on the Terror Dungeon and its workings. This was tidbits the other group had picked up and what I considered to be "common" knowledge. Details would still have to be gotten by the group.

And they had a chance to pass through the first of the Stolen Kingdoms, Canaslan, Run by Seljack of Madar - a one time sellsword and mercenary who would spend most of his earnings on the finest drink, the bawdiest of wenches, and the most latest of fashions - only to run out of coin and have to go adventuring again.

The land literary stinks of beer, body odor, and sweat.

Write up follows:

The following morning we split into two groups, a “delving” group that was going to head to Bork Keep and make our first foray into the Terror Dungeon, and a “surface” group that was going to report to the Greater Rand Sellsword and Adventuring Guild to establish potential residence and see what work can be garnered to support half of us while we were local.

The Delving Group resulted in Sybil (Halfling thief), Negan (half ogre Fighter Cleric to Odin), Darius (human fighter (slinger), Grygmier (dwarvish ranger), Avulstein (half orc (now!) tested wizard (earth)), Connal  (human monk to Sif), and Brading (dwarvish cleric to Heimdal). After eating breakfast at the Flying Pegasus, we travelled off to the western section of town for the Records and Sage district where we managed to get to Julian the Sage’s Tower. 4 stories tall, 40’ diameter, short wall surrounding the property and an herb garden being tended by a gnome gardener.

We introduced ourselves, gave a copy of our charter and showed our silver pins from the GRSAG and then were escorted in. Shoes and weapons were removed as we came into the tower proper. There was a white carpet, crystal curtain, and rows of books near a low table. A small amount of wine was dispensed to each person and Julian (human, male, 50’s, thin, fading hair) took time welcoming the party and then asking them what they hoped to get out of the Terror Dungeon and why they were doing this.

We answered him with a variety of reasons and Julian seemed ok with them all. He then gave us his opinion of the Terror Dungeon and some of the history. Bork Keep was about 300 years old and built for the Randari Emperor at that time by Daroken Dwarves who were invited to do the job by Nightwood Gnomes. It took 4 years and the Gorokian Dwarves were upset about it and refused to supply any of the stone except at the very end of the construction.

The Keep was positioned at Bork Lake as a deterrent for raiding lizardmen from the Starlitzian lizard tribes across the river. During the Randari/Dwarven war the keep was sacked but in the interim years it has been helmed by most recently a Lord Corface Bork (most likely not descended from the original owners) who has had its compliment of people rise and acts as a training ground for up and coming knights and men at arms.

The Terror Dungeon opened up 15 years ago when they were digging a deeper base for the wine cellar and its presence appearing now is not normal. There are other deeper wells and locations dug in and around the Keep – but at the time of the Dungeon Appearing, there have been no deep shafts possibly dug since then.

Julian wants whatever original writings can be found in the Dungeon. There is a mention (7 times) of a being referred to as Dragodon in whatever documents he’s has the luxury of looking at. There are many reasons why the Dungeon is here now and lots of theories – but he believes something is coming, and the dungeon is acting as a crucible – want to be heroes are going in, and only the best of them come out alive and better equipped to defeat powerful foes. Why?

He also gave us a brief on the Stolen Kingdoms, the Dozen Kingdoms, the Sovereign Lands – those places that have become “flipped” by powerful adventurers who have plumbed some of the deepest depths and gotten into some of the secretive areas of the dungeon warded by glyphs that make entrance difficult at best. We would have to pass through Canaslan, the 2nd such kingdom and its principle city of Paxian on our way to the Keep.

We left the Sage and did some shopping in the south section of town where many general shops were located not too far from an orcish slum. Everyone loaded up on ropes, spikes, hammers, etc…getting themselves as ready as possible for the trip to Bork Keep. We rested that night excited and nervous and got a good rest for our last day at the Flying Pegasus.

The next morn on Spiritmonth the 7th we were off and took the 10+ hour walk from Erylond to Bork Keep. It was cool, mid 40’s, but clear. Around 2 PM we passed through some sort of disturbance in the air and found ourselves in the stolen kingdom of Canaslan. The air had a warmer feel to it, there was an odor of beer and sweat in the air. The road seemed in poorer condition and many of the farms we passed had poorly planted fields. Drunkenness seemed rampant, along with sloth and merriment. Although we didn’t go to Paxian, we could see it in the distance off the road to the north. Walled city, slummy looking homes, VERY NICE gleaming castle.

A company of riders came up in dirty tabards and drinking, welcoming us to Canaslan and their King, Seljack of Madar. The offered us safe passage and rode ahead, knocking peasants aside and making a nuisance of themselves as they rode away. When we caught up with them again in half a mile, they had already dismounted and were gathered in a drunken pile at the side of the road. We pressed on. We had heard something about a “Sellsword’s Haven” by some of the people we had passed and gathered that that was the “theme” to this kingdom and Seljack.

It was about 5 PM when we emerged from the other side of the kingdom and were back on the normal road. Bork Keep could be seen in the distance. The land rose here about 50’ with the Erylond (Enderlyn further upstream) River burbling into the wide lake (3 miles by 6 miles). The land around the keep to the north was regimented farmlands and demesnes, all in good shape and repair. The keep itself had a tall outer wall, four towers and a barbican, and then another inner wall also warded with 4 towers.

A group of armigers arrived on horseback, pennants flying, lanced held at parade rest. We were welcomed to Bork Keep and told to be on our best behavior. Bows and crossbows MUST be unstrung in the Keep and weapons SHOULD be sheathed. There are craftsman and resellers to be found and there are two barracks at the north end of the Keep near the Dungeon Entrance where adventurers stay. We were told NOT to fuck with the rules and theft was considered to be the height of folly.

Once inside we had a chance to go through the well thought out and regimented Keep. The place was clean, had to be a few hundred people living in the keep itself. The back end of the Keep where we were heading was in good repair and there were two barracks, we took the left one that had a hitching post with a cart laden and tarped down, and a few ponies and mules. Avulstein went to go look at the cart when Darius was all over him to leave well enough alone.

We went inside and were welcomed by a group of 12 or so people, 8 of which were part of an adventuring group called the Unseen Hand. They had just spent a week or so in the Dungeon, lost two of their members, but had gone in Cleric Heavy this time (around 3rd/4th level) and made a payday of at least 40-50 lbs of treasure based upon what they showed us as well as other gear they had strapped to the cart outside.

We talked a bit, he told us that we should find the Glyph Gate on the north side of the 1st level and get a Brass Chime – if you are at a set of stairs and it’s not the right time, the Chime will summon the exit for 2 minutes allowing the party to leave before it snaps back to its original location. Suggested it’s worth our time to do so because hanging out at an exit and hoping for the best was a good way to be eaten by a Grue.

We shared our drink and food, he did the same, and we were going to see Lord Bork to bid our hello and get a rune stone to allow us entrance to the Dungeon.

Meet 72, Adv 5, 1/12/19

Lot of town and Larping this meeting, fluff galore. As one of the players pointed out - didn't think he rolled a d20 all night. Sometimes it happens. I've said it before - I don't hand have all the minutia and travel away - it removes from the game and the experience at the table.

For NPC's, I have a random generator I made up a while ago to give me 75% of the character in question, all I need to fill in the "type" (Commoner, warrior, expert, adventurer) and the "Class" (linkboy, shieldbearer, armorer, cleric, etc...) and hit f9 - program does the rest.

Write up follows:

On Spiritmonth the 4th about 9:30 we left the Flying Pegasus and made our way westward through the northern district until we arrived at our location – a tall 3 story structure taking up almost the entire block and identified in multiple languages as the Greater Rand Sellsword and Adventurer’s Guild. The place was well lit, neat, in good repair, and there was the main double doors leading in, and a side door where a queue of 40 or so souls were waiting in line to get in.

We asked what that was and were told that the guild Apothecist, Nythis, opened the doors here to the workshop after 8 and until 12 where he sold his healing potions to first come first serve. They were cheap, like seriously cheap – and well under what one would expect to spend. The chimney alongside the workshop section of the Guildhall had a pinkish tinged smoke coming out and there was the faint scent of berries in the air. The line was long, and most people had to wait a half hour or longer. Also, he made a certain amount each day and if wanted some, you had to make sure you came early enough to get because 150 or so was the most he made.

As for price, 17 if you were a guild member, 35 if you were not. Crowns. That’s…it? It seemed so cheap! We would mull on it another time because instead we entered the locale. A couple of tired looking half-ogres were sitting here on the sturdy couches when a half-elven thinnish man with long dark hair pulled into a pony tail came in and introduced himself as Pha-iyr Carom, the guild’s Facilitator.

He took us through some of the local halls and to a largish meeting room capable of seating 20. From there we talked about our group, gave him our letters of recommendation from Tropor Darbeard and Third Reeve Speero Illytch and talked about what we’ve done.

There was a charter for us to sign and we were allowed to read it a bit and discuss it while he had Bjorn Durkenlurk, a 50’s plus human male wearing a set of grey wizard’s robes come in. Identified as the Master of the Guild, he took us through the charter line by line.

Most of the rules made sense and were designed to support and bolster the guild and its members together. If an adventuring group is in trouble and you can help, you help. If another guild your members belong to want you to do something against either the Adventuring Guild or another group in the adventuring guild, you are not bound to do so and can tell them to get stuffed.

If you want to put something in the guild vault – it can be left their safely for 90 days at 2% of its value. No one can take it out, no one can for the guild to take it out. And even if something goes wrong, they’ll continue to hold for another 180 days until you show up and pay or they have to them sell the contents. And finally the guild wants 1% of all coin, riches or easily transmuted treasures up to 200 nobles per foray.

There were at least 15 other larger adventuring groups like ours, and hundreds of private individuals making the total member roster between 3 and 4 hundred based upon Bjorn’s dropped notes and hints. The Guild has their own Guider for the Dead if we needed services and the Esquire and Lawyer, a 20-something blond pony tailed woman named Hubiula Asalin was here to ratify our signatures and get us officially in.

When it came time for questions, Hjalgrim had taken an aggressive stance with Hubuila and the tow of them got to words before the dwarven knight stormed out of the meeting room and got one of the Half-ogres to go get Pha-iyr for him to talk to instead. The party did sign off on the document, some of them reading it, some of them not. We also picked a name: Vanguard of Ragnarok and then had to pick a nominal head of the group. It was not a leadership position, but it was the head of the group and the person(s) the Greater Rand Sellsword and Adventuring Group (GRSAG) would contact if need be. We talked amongst ourselves for some time until it was put to vote and Thalin was chosen by an almost twice the amount over the next person Darius who was 50% more desired than Hjalgrim. So we put all 3 names on in that order, had it signed by Hubuila and we were official.

We were given a small list of current “adventures” that were open at this time for anyone to participate in and reminded to NOT buy a portal stone from someone other than Bork Keep and that we should talk to Julian the Sage tomorrow to get some information about the Terror Dungeon.

We then wanted to meet with what insurance companies were around and willing to back our party. Three were about: the Gorokian Collective, House Daracloak, and Lord Shonar. The Gorokian Collective was a dwarven backers from Gorok who were willing to insure us for 4 forays, a successful foray being called 200 nobles. They wanted 35% of all liquidable treasures and 75% of all weapons and armor; anything else was ours. Each foray would reduce both percentages by 10% accordingly. They would offer 1 raise dead for each person on the charter with a cost of 1,000 crowns should another one be needed afterwards (limit of 2 total). Resurrection was offered as well a total of 1 partywide, with a 2nd and beyond costing 5,000 crowns per instance. Status issues would be at a reduced rate if need be.

House Daracloak was a trading company with ties to the oldest Sovereign Kingdom of Grimyria and their rep was a human (?) named Lord Mayfacto Daracloak. They offered 40% of all treasures regardless with a 5% reduction each foray for a maximum of 6 (with a minimum total emergence of 500 nobles for the foray to count). They also covered any status injury…but…they offered no raise dead or resurrection and the deal was anyone who dies, their bodies were to be given to House Daracloak and eventually Grimyria. We thanked him and he left, Dizzy convinced the insurance guy was a real vampire.

Finally Lord Shonar came in, the nobleman himself coming to talk to us. He was able to trace his lineage and presence in Erylond back to the Ymira of Rand and before then – the nobleman house and merchant operation having the money, time, contacts, and riches to be one of the players and shapers of Erylond these last 300 years. He had a different scale with 10% for the first foray and an additional 7 ½% for each foray afterwards, a successful foray being 250 nobles. They also offered 5 Raise Deads, 2 Resurrections, and 3 Status correction remedies for the entire party with a reduced cost for any afterwards if need be.

After they all left we liked Lord Shonar’s option and even though we were talking about going in the first time ourselves, if we did want an insurance collective, it would most likely be that one.

Back at the Flying Pegasus we rested and the next morning Teranys was able to wrangle up 3 clerics that were “looking for group” for us to interview based upon our request to add one to our roster. The first was a late 20’s 6’ tall well-built human male named Fren. Reddish hair, green eyed, worshipper of Odin, he had been in the Terror Dungeon 7 times, twice a porter and 5 times as a party member. We talked for a bit about his time and references and although he seemed good, we wanted to talk to the next two.

The next was a slightly taller human, bald, perhaps in his mid-20’s, follower of Tyr named Beiti. He had a two handed sword on his back that was his father’s and also had a smaller broad sword at his side. He had been in the Terror Dungeon twice, once with a group for less than a day and they ran out after losing some party members, and again for four and a half weeks when the group he was with fell down a large pit and dropped to the 4th level where they spent all that time trying to get out in the dark with no frame of references. Seemed a bit clumsy but we thanked him, most of the group feeling he wasn’t the best fit for us.

The last was a young dwarf, like real young. Named Brading, if he was human he’d barely be 16, 42 for dwarf age, and from Sorton, was a prospector and ranger for his family, the Scorlings. A follower of Heimdall and miner as well, he had face numerous issues and dangers in the wyld – but wanted to be something more than what he was. He had the call for adventure and after selling his sword (axes, actually) so even though he had never been in the Terror Dungeon, he was anxious to join a group and help if possible.

After meeting all three, we decided that Brading was the best bet and fit for us so we were going to approach him later and then go see Julian the Sage and equip before heading off to Bork Keep the following day.

Meet 71, Adv 5, 1/5/19

Took long enough but the group is finally on the heart of the locale and adventure for this campaign. I've run the Terror Dungeon before many many years ago when it was "new" and "fresh" - only discovered and opened perhaps a year. The party that had gone in ended up getting wiped on the 3rd level by Minotaurs so never actually discovered the purpose of the dungeon and some of the hidden bennies.

So when this group wandered into Erylond I have moved time forward 15 years of so since the last campaign had been here and that means much of the place has been explored (upper levels) and there are secrets revealed which the party will get a leg up on. BUT, the dungeon is a living environment and there is a outside issue they have to contend with regarding the Ravenstone that Barb has and Lord Emberwine wants. And the two forces are gossamerly linked together and going to drive the campaign forward.

Write up for the 5th adventure, "The Crackling Terror" begins here:

The group spent the better part of two weeks training, outfitting as needed, closing up any loose ends with Sorton and House Illytch, and finishing up our training as need be. At the end of it all, it was Spiritmonth the 1st and we had joined up with a caravan from House Illytch to Erylond and we were on our way.

The fall was cruising along, days getting shorter and temperatures dropping. The warmest days barely hit 50 and most of the trees had made the shift to vibrant colors already and were shedding leaves swiftly. Between our 12 (13 with Bobkins!), the 6 caravan guards, the 10 caravaneers, and the other 7 travellers, we were a large enough group that most of the local orcish barbarian tribes gave us no trouble.

With the arrival of the late fall months, many of the nomadic tribes had moved their semi-permanent homes closer to the roads to sell their wares and maybe trade (or steal!) until the Reetersbeard Caravan was due to come through again in the mid spring or later. Most everyone gave the orcish Randari a wide berth but Barb did make it her business to trade for some of the local wares and thanked them for their efforts.

Many of the caravan guards had a different view of things, the orcs were a nuisance and should be ignored, pushed back, or rounded up and resettled – it rankled the group and there were some nudging words back and forth over it before the caravanmaster had his men give the party a break and ordered them to stay away.

It was late in the evening when we arrived at the former orcish hilltop keep that had been repurposed as the Iron Toad Inn and Tavern. Well lit and easily defended, it was a fine place for us to rest. Meal was paid for but the group had an upgrade on their room and took their time with a bath and better choice of drink.

We were gone by 8 in the morning the following day, the temperature closer to 47 than not, with the Moratian Mountains giving way to the foothills and then eventually the low valleys where our next stop was to be – the heavily dwarven township of Tariz. Originally orcish, it had been settled by ex-patriots from Jarl’s Tooth and Sorton, most of the town’s 500 denizens being dwarvish or human, and the perhaps 30 or so orcish descended citizenry although “free” had a servile and stepford look to them. There were three inns in town, but only one of them would take our mixed company, another reason for some of the caravaneers to complain about us.

The Rotting Fish was in the poorest section of town, but the inn was surprisingly large and in good repair. It was hostelled by an orcish former arena champion for the League of Odin named Thorfeld. He was gracious to the party even though the food was a poorer than we had been used to, and he did rent us out a larger room for everyone to sleep in for what we thought was a decently low price. The brew to drink was something referred to as “Wolf Piss” which although was not an enticing name, was however a delicious bitter with an acerbic tinge that was surprisingly delicious.

He bent our ear about the Terror Dungeon, advising us to check it out and get out before we wound up dead, and that we were welcome back to Tariz and his employ should we need be.

On the following day we were out again after dawn and on our way to Erylond. The Enderlyn River burbled wide to our south, 800’ wide and moving at a stately clip. There was a bridge spanning it here, in poor repair and no longer capable it would seem of supporting columns of travelers, but possible to cross. Beyond in the distant on the horizon, there were smudges of smoke as if someone lived out there but the map we had only showed something about “Old Erylond” and no other locations marked or mentioned.

By 5:30 we had come upon Erylond itself. The city was situated on a large artificial rise near the River and enclosed in three successively smaller rings of 30’ tall walls, 9’ deep, that cordoned off more and more parts of the city. We waited at the gate for a bit and then once inside, were thanked by the caravanmaster, and given advice that we should go to the north section of town and seek an inn called the Flying Pegasus, right near the adventurer’s guild.

Erylond was home to over a hundred thousand citizens of all types. Many were going about their business as usual, some were armed and armored like us, and others were of a caliber beyond our capabilities at this time. Almost 4 miles oval, we walked though many districts: Religious, sages and records, lower class, weapons, arcane, clothiers. Along the next gate, marked as “Thakian” were the livestock section where beyond we could see various farms, demesnes, and other locales that brought their wares into the city for the teeming throng.

Beyond was the provisioners, the training grounds, the adventuring guild, and then on the north wall was the Flying Pegasus Inn – 4 stories tall, and a stone statue of a Pegasus on the roof as if in mid flight. Not too far from here was the smithing district that we could hear but we went up to the Pegasus ready to go in.

The bouncer, a huge brute of a man over 330 lbs and past 6’ 5”, stopped us and gave us a few rules. Name was Akron and the proprietor of the Pegasus was a well liked man named Teranys. No fighting in the Inn ever. We thanked him, and were introduced to Teranys. Almost 50, nondescript, but everyone in the Inn gave him a toast as he walked through and the group inexplicably liked him and found him ok to deal with.

Having a section of the bar cleared off and us in place, food came out as well as drink and he answered some questions for us about the Terror Dungeon. Even though he had some information for us, he suggested that we talk to Julian the Sage tomorrow before we trip down to Bork Keep. But before anything else, we needed to go to the Adventuring Guild and get a charter. So we were going to finish our meal and then make the trip to the Guild and get that done next before turning in for the night.

Meet 70, Adv 4.2, 12/8/18

This was the wrap up meeting for the adventure where we totaled XP (half the group went up), figured out income, and made some purchases and re-equipping before moving on to Erylond and Bork Keep/Terror Dungeon. Lots of LARPING and bookkeeping during the night and I still have to take care of one guy at the table who wasn't here and the Mage's Test for the player running Avulstein.

Write up follows:

Once back at the Base Camp, we had the chance to share with the Bailiff and the Reeve some of what we had learned and discussed what was going to happen on a going forward. There were just over 20 staff left and most of the important goods have been taken. In 3 days Teamster Trentis was going to come and that was going to be the end of the Base Camp for House Illytch for now. We were going to talk to the 1st Consul @ House Illytch and share with him the information we got on growing Firvin’s Cap on our own, seeing what we could barter for that.

During the wind down of time, we knew we were being watched on some level, kobolds and maybe giants? But 1 day before leaving Dunatis and some of his druids and the orc marauders who had mugged us twice and their people arrived and tried to parley with us to get Barb’s whistle. She refused, held to her grounds and instead gave the orcish barbarian woman there the whistle she had gotten from Damlagast’s Tower and wished her well.

As for the Orcish Druid, he was happy we did not kill off the Third Warren as the kobolds there had learned to live with nature and did not need to be exterminated. He allowed Barb to keep the whistle should she ever need it and we wished him well.

On Earthmonth the 10th House Illytch left the Base Camp finally and we all trecked back to Sorton where we had the chance to rest and relax on Earthmonth the 13th for a bit before sitting with the 1st Consul Landor Illytch. We talked about our job, how it went, and that we hoped to go on to Erylond and then Bork Keep and the Terror Dungeon. We don’t NEED a backer or sponsor, but it is prudent to have one, and a letter of good employment and trustworthiness goes a long way to getting a good group to back us and at non-usurious rates.

So after much conversation and deal trading we settled on trading the information we had on the growing of Firvin’s Caps in a controlled environment (that the kobolds had been teaching and showing us for 6 weeks) in exchange for 247 crowns, training for everyone who was going up, reequipping of normal equipment, and even a stipend of 30 nobles for those who were not going up in level. We also sold off tons of interesting items we had picked up, keeping 3 items in reserve: A Thorian earring that Dizzy wanted to keep (he bought it), Damlagast’s Spellbook (the entire group bought it for multiple people would get the benefit from it), and lastly was Damlagast’s Robes with the Deeppockets that we were holding aside for Avulstein to decide to purchase if he wanted to.

Coupled on top of that our normal pay, the funds we had achieved earlier, the funds now, and all the other benefits – the 13 members of the group had almost 2,000 nobles EACH, that we had House Illytch reduce to crowns for us at no cost, and even sold off some of our healing draughts in exchange for potions.

Our contract was until the end of the month so for the next 17 days, most of us were training while the rest of us wound down from our very long employment and discussed what the road ahead had to offer us.

Meet 69, Adv 4.2, 12/1/18

This was written both ways - mega end fight or long conversation. Group tried hard to keep it conversation and they succeeded. I had a tally sheet that I was tick marking on attack or not as the LARPing was going on based upon their comments, points, counterpoints, and attitude.

The fight would have been...brutal. And when explained afterwards how it was laid out, the group was like, "Yeah, glad to have dodged that!!"

Write up follows:

Untar and Skita and the small guard group of kobolds led us through the night shrouded streets and byways of the K’Morat Warren until we arrived at the former orcish keep. The walls were tall and thick, the doors repaired and supported, and upon entering, we spotted many many MANY kobolds in the area, all watching us with a mix of curiosity and fury.

Eventually we were led to the central room of the keep were part of the ceiling had been lifted away and two very large oak trees grew here, reaching through the roof and towering an additional 50’ into the night sky. There were kobolds about, many on guard at the multiple entrances and exits from the chamber, and a 4 count of tabard wearing ones near the center of the room. Dangling from the lowest branches of the trees were our missing companions, bound up and hanging upside down, wrapped in layers and layers of filthy off-white webbing. One of them was propped up on a table, and another one had her webs removed from her face, head, and neck – revealing Barb hanging there.

There was some conversation back and forth with the Untar and the other 4 main shaman. Untar wore purple and was responsible for the temple and grounds, Fanix wore blue and was the shaman in charge of the agriculture of the Warren. Indyt had on orange and his purview was the Lumber and harvesting part of the camp. Junga was wearing Green and was the Shaman in charge of the raids and hunting. And finally Kadge was wearing Red, and was identified as the High Shaman.

There were 2 others who were not here at this time, but the consensus was that Untar, Fanix, and Indyt were AGAINST the presence of the House Illytch Base Camp and wanted them all gone now even if it took an assault by kobold forces, and the other three Shaman had the opposite thoughts of giving the dwarves the chance to get the hell out on their own and NOT engage in combat. Kadge, the High Shaman was the tie breaking vote and for now, was siding with the peaceable group – but something had to change as the Warren was approaching a flash point as tempers were growing hot.

To the kobold’s way of it – we (us and dwarves) were murderers. That’s it. Through it all over 500 K’Morat had been killed in the last 2 months while only one…ONE of House Illytch people had met the same fate. True! Not one harvester, not one guard, and only the one Randari Ranger who had been slain by the 2nd Warren and eaten was the only member of House Illytch’s staff that was killed. This was … surprising to the group as we had assumed that before we arrived, that others had been killed. Assaulted, terrorized, chased – but no one had ever been killed before. Kadge wanted ot know if we thought her K’Morat were such fuck ups that that couldn’t kill a single mushroom picker?!?!

We all took our turns trying to convince the K’Morat that we were going to leave and leave soon, when the snows fall for sure. And if things were right, we wouldn’t have to come back again. But there was no guarantee we could make. The kobolds were 6 generations out of the dwarven/orcish war but their oral history had preserved much of what happened and they made sure that all K’Morat knew the truth – the dwarves came once and murdered EVERYONE once before and left. And there was no reason to believe that if they felt the need to, they wouldn’t come and do it again.

We bantered back and forth for over an hour, trying ideas and discarding them just as fast. Kadge seemed to WANT to find a solution that would appease all sides while Indyt (the most outspoken) was angling hard for killing everyone here and punishing the base camp with spear and blood. However, it took some wheeling and time but cooler heads did prevail and we struck and uneasy deal and balance: they would teach a few of us how to cultivate Firvin’s Cap mushrooms on our own to then teach House Illytch, if we would teach the K’Morat how to relearn the ability to read orcish (a skill that had been lost over the last 6 generations).

An accord was struck and Junga was then given to perform a scrying to Donna Duncarian at Base Camp, where the Reeve was astounded to hear from us and given to understand that we would be here for 6 weeks and then come back to Base Camp just before we all had to leave. We would have another communication in 3 more weeks time and then see them all in 6.

We were then treated fairly well. Escorted around the places in the Warren they wanted us to see and no other, the other companions were released from their bonds and nursed back to health. Dizzy had taken the most abuse during his time, bound up as falling from the tree, his body took the longest to get back to normal. Shim, Avulstein, and Thalin were the primary personages responsible for teaching the kobolds to read and they actually pulled a switch, teaching the kobolds to read COMMON instead or Orcish, and saying ORcish was the other language. The reason? So that the K’Morat wouldn’t activate or repair any of the wards or glyphs the Randari orcs had around the city many years ago.

Shim in addition to teaching did some horsetrading with the kobolds from quills and managed to learn that the orcish clan that had been here were the Four Shields and the Spears of Death – most likely now long wiped out and defunct.

Avulstein also swapped paper and quills with the kobolds when his opportunity came, but more importantly to the wizard, he was asked to impregnate the wolverine’s the kobolds already had – and the animorph form wizard took to that task with glee, doing his duty often when given the chance.

Thalin did the same (not the wolverine sex!!) an in addition had many hours of magical theory conversation with the Shamans about the nature of their ties to the arcane and divine and where their mana actually flows from.

Barb had the opportunity to enhance her time and attachment to the Ravenstone, using it every chance she got and often to push the 4-5 minute barrier limit on conversation slowly further and further back until she could get over 20 minutes at a pop before the stone started resisting her attempts.

Sybil worked with the mining and agricultural sectors, the gregarious and friendly Halfling learning some of the K’Morat skill with poisons and getting a ball of dried cat cut and a 70 count of crude blue quartz crystals as trade for her efforts. The remainder of the time was spent drilling very slowly a hole in the middle of each stone so it could be strung and/or worn.

Darius worked with Sybil on her quartz, but kept to himself, looking on the kobolds as vermin even after all that had happened and growing more angry with the cavalier Hjalgrim as the dwarven knight took it upon himself to spend weeks practicing spear drills with the kobolds, learning from them and them learning from him! Connal joined in on many of these drills but merely as Hjalgrim’s second and not directly in teaching the kobolds anything important.

Gryg and Dizzy stayed quiet and by themselves, watching the situation but not getting directly involved, merely biding their time until we could leave the K’Morat Warren and head home.

Finally after all had been taught and the process for growing Firvin’s Cap in a controlled environment had been exchanges, a 70 count of kobolds lead us away from the Warren and the 2 day journey back through the mountains, across the lake, and eventually at the very reduced Base Camp where the Bailiff and the remaining 23 inhabitants watched us come with wary eyes and we were returned to our employers unharmed. The High Shaman and the others who came bid us farewell and we watched them turn and fade back south and away into the wilds of the Morata mountains.