This was a maintenance meeting to say the least, and it was made worse because we started late (later than usual!). Add it to the fact that the party had been meandering about without staying on a direction or a course for a while.
One of the things I do is prep an adventure months in advance and park it - I don't tweak it and make it level friendly and try to make sure that everyone gets a goodie or two in it - some things found won't work for them, some monsters or encounters might be over powered - nothing is perfect - and that is fine because it forces the party to play and roleplay - not min/max (although that always happens no matter what you try - chuckle).
The wyverns were an aside - a chance for the party to fight them in a controlled setting since I had foreshadowing them for months on end. There will be much greater wyvern fights as time goes on, but for this point it was a small encounter and a chance for them to get some hard earned coin.
It also allowed me the opportunity to think about what I wanted to do concerning the existing adventure which had ultimately gotten no where. As will be seen in the next post report I took a bit of advice from my favorite show "Heroes" as well as one of the players who comes over often and early and did a little reset after this meeting - forwarding time 2 months plus and shuffling the game deck a bit.
But that's for the other post report to come. ;)
Write up follows for this night:
The party deliberated on the merits of transporting the now full 4 wine barrels to Ponyboro where according to Gwyn we could net 75 crowns per barrel. We had no idea what it would cost to get the services of Deathspeaker Yondal, but we assumed that this would be more than enough. Coruth’tae was going to go to Cymbarton to Tower Arcane to train and take his Test, journeying with us to Ponyboro and then moving on from there.
We rented the use of a wagon and small horse team, taking the postal bags with us as well. Loading up the wine barrels we ventured onward to Ponyboro and had a safe, uneventful journey. Upon arrival they tendered the wagon and cargo to the stablers and made their way to the Daernhorse Demesne, hoping to sell their wares to the friendly Lord Artis first.
It wasn’t long before we were given audience and Lord Daernhorse filled us in on what was new, learning from us the same. Conversation meandered on until the subject of the wine was broached. Some haggling and back and forth went on its way until Lord Daernhorse agreed to purchasing the 4 barrels at the expected price.
The venerable lord then offered us a job. Being close to the Dusty Mountains, there was often the problem of wyverns to combat. The draconic lizards fondness of horseflesh and with a good expected foaling this year, Lord Artis was hoping to head off a problem. There was a rookery (wyvern nesting area) that was not too far away and if the party was willing to take the nest out and bring back the adult stingers as proof of the deed done, they would be paid for the job as well as a bounty on each adult wyvern destroyed! The party agreed and after some prompting, got Coruth’tae to put off his trip to Cymbarton a few more days so the grey elf could help out.
We left the next morning with a small scratched map in tow and camped some distance from the rookery. The following day had us scouting it out and getting a feel for what was in store for us.
The rookery was on the rocky outcropping of a small foothill, heavily wooded except for the top where the 35’ long lizards had felled saplings and other trees, dragging them into a depression they had dug out and mounded with stones. There were two adults and what seemed to be 4 young just hatched wyrmlings in the nest area.
We waited and one of them went off to presumably hunt and the party hatched a plan. Karis was made invisible and holding a coil of rope crept his way up to and into the nest. The one remaining wyvern sensed him but was confused as it couldn’t see him. With a heave he hurled the rope at the wyvern’s neck, turning visible in the process. Fabambus then animated the rope, having it entangle the wyvern around one wing, neck area, and part of the tail. Missiles were fired and spells slung and Karis drew forth his sword and attempted to hack the wyvern who was screaming in terror – alerting the other one to return.
The wyvern was fast, but hampered by the entangling animated rope it was unable to take to the air and its movements were hampered. It did strike out though with claw, bite, and tail. And eventually the tail struck, delivering a deadly dose of venom into Karis’ shoulder – the half-ogre staggering under the impact, his vitality drained to half!
Detheron tried to race forward to help and Fabambus did likewise, Gwyn firing more arrows and quarrels at the close wyvern as well as the one returning. The fight raced on until the entangled wyvern was slain, just a moment before Karis was accosted by the flying one. The party struggled and swung and fought, dodging tail and bite where possible, Detheron daring to jump into the nest and accord the half-ogre a swift heal.
But eventually the last wyvern was slain and the battle was won. We harvested the stingers from the two wyverns and slayed the young. The group tried to extract the virulent poison from the stingers, getting a few precious doses in the process. Meanwhile the rookery was knocked over and the logs and rocks scattered. In the process the gnome discovered some old chests that the wyverns had in the nest, the contents filled with some treasures in the form of crowns as well as a stout polished black rod than when held gave the gnome the appearance of royalty, his clothing well tailored and in good repair, and gave his a aura of confidence and allure. A rod of Splendor!
We carted the treasures back with us to Ponyboro, gathered our reward for the bounty, and decided to stay for a few days before heading back for home. We spoke with Deathspeaker Yondal learning that the “being” at the heart of Fengarth’s Tower was at one point Magrath, but had become a spellwraith, a powerful incorporeal spell using and magic resistant (not immune) undead creature.
Coruth’tae left us the next day, arrived at Cymbarton where he presented himself to Tower Arcane and volunteered to take the test. It was noted that he passed and garnered what respect and prestige it awarded him.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Meet 58, Adv 7, 2/21/09
It's nice when a group uses their brains instead of their swords or spells to solve a problem.
Fengarth's Tower was on the map and had been visited many times before, but it was not originally set up to be explored again and again and again. However the group had come back many times, testing the waters and getting further as their skills and prowess grew.
But the assault on the tower would and could be decidedly deadly should they have made the choice to "kill everything and loot it". It would mean many deadly battles with superior foes, in a narrow confined area that negates any larger group fight, and against enemies that require certain weaponry to hit or damage. It would also mean that enterprising groups might miss out on getting a fully stocked and placed tower at their behest should they somehow take their time and learn what is needed to take it over.
Happily, they have grown as a party and are much less likely to race in and "whack whack whack". Which I take as good testament to better gameplay for all involved.
Write up follows:
The group readied their weapons, prepared themselves, and ran through their tactics. Then with a mighty heave the door was forced open, Fabambus webbed the area where the imp last was and Karis and Flarg charged in with weapons raised…
Seeing nothing. The imp had gone.
The group spread out, checking the chamber high and low for any sign of the small creature, both Fabambus and Coruth’tae staying in the hall. The room was circled and still nothing, until Detheron noticed that Fodder was growing agitated near a section of the southern wall.
The druid called the rest of the group over and the imp reappeared just as it finished whatever enchantment it was performing. A tear rifted open in the air in front of it, the reek of sulfur and brimstone billowing out. And stepping free from the strange rent in space was a demonic presence standing 7’ tall, thin skinned, cherry red, horned, and its shoulders and arms were bathed in 4” flames. A dretch!
Combat ensued with both the warriors engaging the demon. Flarg was using the enchanted battle axe “Blaze”, the weapon firing to life but the weapon seemed to have no effect on the demon. Karis’ own sword was turned aside and the creature struck back with definitive strength and power, hurting the front line fighters.
Spells were cast, holds and missiles; nothing seemed to have much of an impact. At one point the dretch was ignoring blows and attempting to channel the flames on its shoulders but Fabambus’ well placed magic missile ended that with a pair of violet streaks.
The dretch was not giving ground and Flarg gave up on Blaze after seeing many of his blows turned aside, pulling his morning star out and battering the demon with much greater results. Karis shifted his blows from the dretch to the imp, thinking that if he was able to dispatch it the demon would disappear. When his own sword was ineffective he drew out Kysoth’s Bludgeon and the ensorcelled mace did deadly damage against the imp.
The imp siphoned some strength from the dretch to rejuvenate its wounds but it wasn’t enough and the party made short work of the imp with Smokey tearing the little beast to shreds. Once dead the dretch went down under a barrage of blows and spells and then gated home. The imp had dissolved to a smear on the ground and the party took stock of the area.
The gargoyles did come to life when we tried to once again leave with the books and we were unsure if battling a dozen of the flying stone menaces was the right answer. It was during conversation with them (where Fabambus said he was the new tower master) that we learned of Ssisska again, who had something called Fengarth’s Charm – a gold wrapped black crystal sister to the one we were carrying in silver (identified as Magrath’s Charm – Magrath being Fengarth’s apprentice).
We conferred and decided that if we could convince Ssisska that Fabambus was the heir to the tower, we would not have to fight the gargoyles and other denizens in here – possibly taking them all over in a single fell swoop!
We left the books and went upstairs to the 7th level, beyond anywhere we had been before. The 7th floor had a spellcrafting chamber, with rolls and racks to make stretch and dry parchment. Tools and presses to make inks, a writing desk with quills and inks and a silver key. And along the southern curve of the wall was a life sized armored knight cast in marble and painted in blues and greens.
Almost CONFIDENT that the statue would come to life the party inched into the room and then thought better of it, opting to move on from here and explore further upstairs. Onward to the 8th level!
Here was an alchemy lab with beakers and vials and yards of glass tubing and braziers and burners (all cold). 8 matching bound books sat on a shelf near the counter with a locked iron box tucked just underneath. A fireplace and cauldron stuck near the eastern wall but the party got the feeling there was something else in the room. Something that danced beyond their vision and seemed to disappear if it was looked out.
Nope. Let’s not disturb this place either! Chuckle.
We went to the 9th story where there were shelves and racks covered in a number of boxes, tins, jars, and containers. A breeze blew from above, faint but steady which made the party think they were near the parapet area they had seen from the ground below (almost 150’ up). In here they took some time to explore lightly, a search for magic centering on one thing only. Crossing over to it carefully Detheron tried to detect poison and did – but NOT on the tin box that was glowing!
Examining where the poisonous residue was coming from he discovered a vial marked as green dragon’s chlorinous extract. Whoa! Priceless stuff! Inside the tin though was a stout crystal that seemed white but where raised into the light sent rainbow patterns flowing everywhere. It took some thinking and examining of it but Karis deduced that it was a crystal from the Bifrost Bridge. Very very nice!
After this we readied ourselves for a potential combat with Ssisska on the next floor and climbed it. 3 quarters of the level was open to a parapet, an iron ladder and rungs leading up to a warded door above. The creaking of wings filled the air and 3 humanoid figures with 10’ stony wings swooped into view, demonic heads and curved talons. A 4th one appeared much larger than the others and sporting a row of stony spikes coming out of its back. A trio of ravens trailed behind it. It settled on the edge of the parapet, clutching the stone lip with its feet and stared at the group.
It identified itself as Ssisska, one of Fengarth’s apprentices. It seemed to know little of the passage of time. Where was Fengarth? Would he be returning? Magrath seemed to be dead and hadn’t responded to Ssisska’s summoning. There had been visitors steady over the last 3-6 years, who were they?
We spoke honestly and carefully near the gargoyle and his retinue, taking care to say nothing to upset him or cause him concern or alarm. The gargoyle admitted that there was something leeching life from the tower and had been doing so for the last 6 years. If it wasn’t stopped the last of the wards and protections in the tower would fail and the place would crumble.
If Fabambus wanted to be tower master and get the charm (which it admitted it had hidden inside itself) as well as the command words (who – command words?? We NEEDED to get them!) to control the tower’s guardians he would need to remove the blockage over the tower’s heart.
Tower’s heart? Where was that? The basement – the roots of Yggdrassil that poke up through the soil there. Something above it was blocking the flow of magic into the tower.
And then Karis went both cold and angry. There was a room on the 1st basement level, in the center of the tower – and it had a wooden door with a rune (that Puck had identified as imprisonment long ago). And in front of that door, 9 courses high, 6 wide, were blocks of stone, and each block had a rune of imprisonment on it.
And something that was trapped behind it needed to be taken care of and destroyed. We would have to open that room.
And Ssisska feels that the thing inside that area might be the remains of Magrath – the last defender of the tower and Fengarth’s assistant.
Damn it.
We thanked Ssisska and told it we would return at another time, working our way down and talking about what we would have to do. Firstly, we needed to know WHAT we were dealing with – and that meant finding a divinicist. And the only one we knew of was Deathspeaker Yondal in Ponyboro.
Secondly we needed money to outfit an assault on whatever it is below us. And so far we have not been so lucky regarding that matter. It was while going through Fabambus’s and Coruth’tae’s spells that the group stumbled upon a solution to their dilemma.
They went into the 1st level of the basement (avoiding the chamber with the wards) and grabbed 4 of the best barrels they could find, emptying them. Then they lashed them to the sledge and dragged everything back to Orihalcus.
At town they went to their home where Karis and Detheron in secret cast a number of mending spells (over 40 of them!) for 5 days on the barrels, fixing them and making them sound. Then they created water and filled the barrels to the top. Finally they had Fabambus use his spell Metamorphosis Liquids to turn the water in all 4 casks into wine. Specifically the 11 year old Darkwater Valleyborne Elven wine we had (since he could only change it into something he could place on his tongue). Their goal? Take the wine barrels to Ponyboro and sell them there, using the money to pay for a reading from the Deathspeaker and possibly outfit themselves a bit should there be any coin left over.
And that is where this meeting had ended.
Fengarth's Tower was on the map and had been visited many times before, but it was not originally set up to be explored again and again and again. However the group had come back many times, testing the waters and getting further as their skills and prowess grew.
But the assault on the tower would and could be decidedly deadly should they have made the choice to "kill everything and loot it". It would mean many deadly battles with superior foes, in a narrow confined area that negates any larger group fight, and against enemies that require certain weaponry to hit or damage. It would also mean that enterprising groups might miss out on getting a fully stocked and placed tower at their behest should they somehow take their time and learn what is needed to take it over.
Happily, they have grown as a party and are much less likely to race in and "whack whack whack". Which I take as good testament to better gameplay for all involved.
Write up follows:
The group readied their weapons, prepared themselves, and ran through their tactics. Then with a mighty heave the door was forced open, Fabambus webbed the area where the imp last was and Karis and Flarg charged in with weapons raised…
Seeing nothing. The imp had gone.
The group spread out, checking the chamber high and low for any sign of the small creature, both Fabambus and Coruth’tae staying in the hall. The room was circled and still nothing, until Detheron noticed that Fodder was growing agitated near a section of the southern wall.
The druid called the rest of the group over and the imp reappeared just as it finished whatever enchantment it was performing. A tear rifted open in the air in front of it, the reek of sulfur and brimstone billowing out. And stepping free from the strange rent in space was a demonic presence standing 7’ tall, thin skinned, cherry red, horned, and its shoulders and arms were bathed in 4” flames. A dretch!
Combat ensued with both the warriors engaging the demon. Flarg was using the enchanted battle axe “Blaze”, the weapon firing to life but the weapon seemed to have no effect on the demon. Karis’ own sword was turned aside and the creature struck back with definitive strength and power, hurting the front line fighters.
Spells were cast, holds and missiles; nothing seemed to have much of an impact. At one point the dretch was ignoring blows and attempting to channel the flames on its shoulders but Fabambus’ well placed magic missile ended that with a pair of violet streaks.
The dretch was not giving ground and Flarg gave up on Blaze after seeing many of his blows turned aside, pulling his morning star out and battering the demon with much greater results. Karis shifted his blows from the dretch to the imp, thinking that if he was able to dispatch it the demon would disappear. When his own sword was ineffective he drew out Kysoth’s Bludgeon and the ensorcelled mace did deadly damage against the imp.
The imp siphoned some strength from the dretch to rejuvenate its wounds but it wasn’t enough and the party made short work of the imp with Smokey tearing the little beast to shreds. Once dead the dretch went down under a barrage of blows and spells and then gated home. The imp had dissolved to a smear on the ground and the party took stock of the area.
The gargoyles did come to life when we tried to once again leave with the books and we were unsure if battling a dozen of the flying stone menaces was the right answer. It was during conversation with them (where Fabambus said he was the new tower master) that we learned of Ssisska again, who had something called Fengarth’s Charm – a gold wrapped black crystal sister to the one we were carrying in silver (identified as Magrath’s Charm – Magrath being Fengarth’s apprentice).
We conferred and decided that if we could convince Ssisska that Fabambus was the heir to the tower, we would not have to fight the gargoyles and other denizens in here – possibly taking them all over in a single fell swoop!
We left the books and went upstairs to the 7th level, beyond anywhere we had been before. The 7th floor had a spellcrafting chamber, with rolls and racks to make stretch and dry parchment. Tools and presses to make inks, a writing desk with quills and inks and a silver key. And along the southern curve of the wall was a life sized armored knight cast in marble and painted in blues and greens.
Almost CONFIDENT that the statue would come to life the party inched into the room and then thought better of it, opting to move on from here and explore further upstairs. Onward to the 8th level!
Here was an alchemy lab with beakers and vials and yards of glass tubing and braziers and burners (all cold). 8 matching bound books sat on a shelf near the counter with a locked iron box tucked just underneath. A fireplace and cauldron stuck near the eastern wall but the party got the feeling there was something else in the room. Something that danced beyond their vision and seemed to disappear if it was looked out.
Nope. Let’s not disturb this place either! Chuckle.
We went to the 9th story where there were shelves and racks covered in a number of boxes, tins, jars, and containers. A breeze blew from above, faint but steady which made the party think they were near the parapet area they had seen from the ground below (almost 150’ up). In here they took some time to explore lightly, a search for magic centering on one thing only. Crossing over to it carefully Detheron tried to detect poison and did – but NOT on the tin box that was glowing!
Examining where the poisonous residue was coming from he discovered a vial marked as green dragon’s chlorinous extract. Whoa! Priceless stuff! Inside the tin though was a stout crystal that seemed white but where raised into the light sent rainbow patterns flowing everywhere. It took some thinking and examining of it but Karis deduced that it was a crystal from the Bifrost Bridge. Very very nice!
After this we readied ourselves for a potential combat with Ssisska on the next floor and climbed it. 3 quarters of the level was open to a parapet, an iron ladder and rungs leading up to a warded door above. The creaking of wings filled the air and 3 humanoid figures with 10’ stony wings swooped into view, demonic heads and curved talons. A 4th one appeared much larger than the others and sporting a row of stony spikes coming out of its back. A trio of ravens trailed behind it. It settled on the edge of the parapet, clutching the stone lip with its feet and stared at the group.
It identified itself as Ssisska, one of Fengarth’s apprentices. It seemed to know little of the passage of time. Where was Fengarth? Would he be returning? Magrath seemed to be dead and hadn’t responded to Ssisska’s summoning. There had been visitors steady over the last 3-6 years, who were they?
We spoke honestly and carefully near the gargoyle and his retinue, taking care to say nothing to upset him or cause him concern or alarm. The gargoyle admitted that there was something leeching life from the tower and had been doing so for the last 6 years. If it wasn’t stopped the last of the wards and protections in the tower would fail and the place would crumble.
If Fabambus wanted to be tower master and get the charm (which it admitted it had hidden inside itself) as well as the command words (who – command words?? We NEEDED to get them!) to control the tower’s guardians he would need to remove the blockage over the tower’s heart.
Tower’s heart? Where was that? The basement – the roots of Yggdrassil that poke up through the soil there. Something above it was blocking the flow of magic into the tower.
And then Karis went both cold and angry. There was a room on the 1st basement level, in the center of the tower – and it had a wooden door with a rune (that Puck had identified as imprisonment long ago). And in front of that door, 9 courses high, 6 wide, were blocks of stone, and each block had a rune of imprisonment on it.
And something that was trapped behind it needed to be taken care of and destroyed. We would have to open that room.
And Ssisska feels that the thing inside that area might be the remains of Magrath – the last defender of the tower and Fengarth’s assistant.
Damn it.
We thanked Ssisska and told it we would return at another time, working our way down and talking about what we would have to do. Firstly, we needed to know WHAT we were dealing with – and that meant finding a divinicist. And the only one we knew of was Deathspeaker Yondal in Ponyboro.
Secondly we needed money to outfit an assault on whatever it is below us. And so far we have not been so lucky regarding that matter. It was while going through Fabambus’s and Coruth’tae’s spells that the group stumbled upon a solution to their dilemma.
They went into the 1st level of the basement (avoiding the chamber with the wards) and grabbed 4 of the best barrels they could find, emptying them. Then they lashed them to the sledge and dragged everything back to Orihalcus.
At town they went to their home where Karis and Detheron in secret cast a number of mending spells (over 40 of them!) for 5 days on the barrels, fixing them and making them sound. Then they created water and filled the barrels to the top. Finally they had Fabambus use his spell Metamorphosis Liquids to turn the water in all 4 casks into wine. Specifically the 11 year old Darkwater Valleyborne Elven wine we had (since he could only change it into something he could place on his tongue). Their goal? Take the wine barrels to Ponyboro and sell them there, using the money to pay for a reading from the Deathspeaker and possibly outfit themselves a bit should there be any coin left over.
And that is where this meeting had ended.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Meet 57, Adv 7, 2/7/09
After going back and forth from there many times now, the party was interested in returning to Fengarth's Tower and clearing it once and for all.
Primary goal was to get to the library and get every book there if possible.
Karis wanted to rush to the 6th level (wherethe library was) but the group out voted him and decided they wanted to clear each level to be absolutely sure there was NOTHING to surprise them on their quest upward.
I am pleased to think that some of the party members are underestimating what still lies ahead of them on the upper levels.
Write up follows:
The party camped that night away from the base of Fengarth's Tower. No wyverns approached, no creatures came to the firelight. The next day we redonned our snow shoes and pressed onward until we came to the base of Orihalcus and the lands of the Greengrocer Coalition.
We spoke to Altern Lamatous and gave the full accounting of Flarg and his skills during the combat. A pile of coins were given as well as a promise to come back and ask for the barbaric bugbear should we need him again. There was talk about going back in a few days and the Drywood bugbears agreed to the same terms for another use of our favorite axe wielding warrior. We did discover though that the Drywood bugbears were taking over the same exploits that the K'Tharkian Kobolds had been doing – and that was primarily accosting smugglers on the old Dwarven Traderoad and taking 10% of their cargo for safe passage.
Nope. Can't see that coming back to bite us in the ass at one point.
From there we made our way up the lift to the city proper and progressed down towards Town Square, attracting some attention along the way as most of the townsfolk had learned about our commission to take care of the Forest Troll. Once at Slaine Manor, we were escorted onto the grounds proper while Sir Walter was summoned.
We showed him the head and were thanked publicly for our heroic efforts. There was some talk from the guards though that Sheriff Phozarn was being summoned as the Sheriff was very upset that we had left without him. Sir Walter said that because the party had done as commissioned, they were under no trouble as far as he was concerned and were instead commended.
When the Sheriff arrived at the Manor grounds he tried to have Karis arrested for risking the life and limb of every person in Orihalcus. There was some heated words exchanged but Detheron stood up and said that the fault was his as he had received some guidance from Frey that the time to strike the Troll was now and to not delay (even to get the Sheriff). Of course Phozarn didn't believe it but he was now duty bound to arrest Detheron.
Sir Walter intervened at this point exonerating the party of any wrong-doing and pardoning them. The Sheriff was quite wroth at this and after making sure that Sir Walter was going to stand by this statement, tendered his resignation as Sheriff. Sir Walter took Phozarn into the manor house and the two of them went to talk and the party left. They dropped off the hands at Malcath's Traders and began buying supplies for another trip out to the Tower on the morrow (leaving on the 15th).
Detheron went to see Deidra and the Blessed Children of the Wilted Leaf Orphanage, where his girl friend gave him some low level poisonous elixirs she had been brewing. She also told him that there was some problem as one of the townsfolk had commented that Brother Dardis who helps run the budding Orphanage, was claimed to be a warlock. She wanted to know what the townsfolk view was on witchery and hexcraft as up north they have witch burnings and stoning for suspected mages. Detheron told her that Orihalcus was pretty normal and not to worry too much about it.
We spoke about our trip back to Fengarth's Tower tomorrow and then eventually some trip back to Dargan's Folley. We would want to recruit more bugbears and a few other low level adventurers to help us clear it out but we are looking to wait until the snow melts and the spring has sprung.
We awoke on the 15th and took Clipclop the mule with us, eventually getting Flarg and we trekked across the snow. We camped a mile or two from the tower and the next morning upon arrival we gave the place a good observation from outside. Nothing had changed, nothing had altered. Fabambus cast 'Run' on himself should it be needed (lasts 5-8 hours) and the party entered the Tower.
We decided to clear each floor one at a time from the base (not sub basement) up, making sure that we missed nothing of interest or value. The Grand Entrance was devoid of anything interesting so we traveled up the center stairs to the 2nd floor. Once here there was a large gaming room with an ancient spell lighting the candles within. The cabinet held many games and puzzles. The party searched it across, eventually casting a detect magic. Two items came up: a set of dice and a wire puzzle with 5 beads.
After some experimenting they discovered the dice came up a pair of 6's every 4 tosses. The wire puzzle was different though. The beads needed to be solved in a particular way, but when they were, the red bead disappeared from the puzzle and reappeared inside Coruth'tae's mouth (who was solving it). The bead had draconic heads across the surface. When it was crushed (accidentally), Coruth'tae became 2 dimensional, having all the properties of paper but without actually changing into such. 5 minutes later he returned to 3 dimensions and the red bead reappeared on the wire puzzle.
From here they explored the rest of the 2nd level, uncovering a number of smaller chambers for visitors and some sort of carpeted room with a layer or ground and shattered glass.
After this they went cautiously to the 3rd floor. It was here that T'Nagrath had made his presence first known to the group, the Forest Troll dead and gone now. It was the Kitchen, Larder, and Dining Hall. The group gave each room a cursory overview but as they had already checked it out before, there was nothing new uncovered.
Then it was to the 4th floor. There was a larger chamber that had been destroyed; a skeletal figure with its head twisted completely around was hurled against the ruins of a bed, a few arrows rattling around its rib cage. There was a narrow corridor surrounding the central stairs and 6 small chambers for servants radiating off from there. We had been here before (including the room with the slain mimic) and after a short inspection, declared the 4th floor cleared.
The 5th floor was the tower master's bed chamber and across the hall was a second chamber where his Siberian tiger familiar once resided. Detheron was most cautious about being in here (as he had a run in with the wraith-like familiar once before) but we looked over the chambers and decided there was nothing new to be found within.
This meant it was time to use the black crystal and silver charm to get past the wards on our way to the 6th floor. The wards were subdued and we made it to the 6th floor landing. The same landing that we knew the library was on. Our immediate goal.
We knew that both doors could not be opened at the same time as it would make a disjointing/spatial rift, but for some reason both doors would open to duplicate libraries. We cautiously opened one of them and looked in. It was as we had left it, and we knew there was to be one "gargoyle cat" from the shelf gone and broken. It was, but there was a short 2' tall large nosed winged creature in its place.
We avoided entering and had some words with it; it jumped down and pointed at the party, speaking in some demonic tongue. And then the door was forced open and the imp was struggling to cast some ensorcellment on the charm.
Karis and Flarg shut the door with their combined strengths. The party was gearing up to fight the creature, Karis calling to Tyr to bless the party with the fury of the gods and Detheron calling on the strength of the bull to infuse Flarg.
And we ended it here on Deathmonth the 16th at 11:50.
Primary goal was to get to the library and get every book there if possible.
Karis wanted to rush to the 6th level (wherethe library was) but the group out voted him and decided they wanted to clear each level to be absolutely sure there was NOTHING to surprise them on their quest upward.
I am pleased to think that some of the party members are underestimating what still lies ahead of them on the upper levels.
Write up follows:
The party camped that night away from the base of Fengarth's Tower. No wyverns approached, no creatures came to the firelight. The next day we redonned our snow shoes and pressed onward until we came to the base of Orihalcus and the lands of the Greengrocer Coalition.
We spoke to Altern Lamatous and gave the full accounting of Flarg and his skills during the combat. A pile of coins were given as well as a promise to come back and ask for the barbaric bugbear should we need him again. There was talk about going back in a few days and the Drywood bugbears agreed to the same terms for another use of our favorite axe wielding warrior. We did discover though that the Drywood bugbears were taking over the same exploits that the K'Tharkian Kobolds had been doing – and that was primarily accosting smugglers on the old Dwarven Traderoad and taking 10% of their cargo for safe passage.
Nope. Can't see that coming back to bite us in the ass at one point.
From there we made our way up the lift to the city proper and progressed down towards Town Square, attracting some attention along the way as most of the townsfolk had learned about our commission to take care of the Forest Troll. Once at Slaine Manor, we were escorted onto the grounds proper while Sir Walter was summoned.
We showed him the head and were thanked publicly for our heroic efforts. There was some talk from the guards though that Sheriff Phozarn was being summoned as the Sheriff was very upset that we had left without him. Sir Walter said that because the party had done as commissioned, they were under no trouble as far as he was concerned and were instead commended.
When the Sheriff arrived at the Manor grounds he tried to have Karis arrested for risking the life and limb of every person in Orihalcus. There was some heated words exchanged but Detheron stood up and said that the fault was his as he had received some guidance from Frey that the time to strike the Troll was now and to not delay (even to get the Sheriff). Of course Phozarn didn't believe it but he was now duty bound to arrest Detheron.
Sir Walter intervened at this point exonerating the party of any wrong-doing and pardoning them. The Sheriff was quite wroth at this and after making sure that Sir Walter was going to stand by this statement, tendered his resignation as Sheriff. Sir Walter took Phozarn into the manor house and the two of them went to talk and the party left. They dropped off the hands at Malcath's Traders and began buying supplies for another trip out to the Tower on the morrow (leaving on the 15th).
Detheron went to see Deidra and the Blessed Children of the Wilted Leaf Orphanage, where his girl friend gave him some low level poisonous elixirs she had been brewing. She also told him that there was some problem as one of the townsfolk had commented that Brother Dardis who helps run the budding Orphanage, was claimed to be a warlock. She wanted to know what the townsfolk view was on witchery and hexcraft as up north they have witch burnings and stoning for suspected mages. Detheron told her that Orihalcus was pretty normal and not to worry too much about it.
We spoke about our trip back to Fengarth's Tower tomorrow and then eventually some trip back to Dargan's Folley. We would want to recruit more bugbears and a few other low level adventurers to help us clear it out but we are looking to wait until the snow melts and the spring has sprung.
We awoke on the 15th and took Clipclop the mule with us, eventually getting Flarg and we trekked across the snow. We camped a mile or two from the tower and the next morning upon arrival we gave the place a good observation from outside. Nothing had changed, nothing had altered. Fabambus cast 'Run' on himself should it be needed (lasts 5-8 hours) and the party entered the Tower.
We decided to clear each floor one at a time from the base (not sub basement) up, making sure that we missed nothing of interest or value. The Grand Entrance was devoid of anything interesting so we traveled up the center stairs to the 2nd floor. Once here there was a large gaming room with an ancient spell lighting the candles within. The cabinet held many games and puzzles. The party searched it across, eventually casting a detect magic. Two items came up: a set of dice and a wire puzzle with 5 beads.
After some experimenting they discovered the dice came up a pair of 6's every 4 tosses. The wire puzzle was different though. The beads needed to be solved in a particular way, but when they were, the red bead disappeared from the puzzle and reappeared inside Coruth'tae's mouth (who was solving it). The bead had draconic heads across the surface. When it was crushed (accidentally), Coruth'tae became 2 dimensional, having all the properties of paper but without actually changing into such. 5 minutes later he returned to 3 dimensions and the red bead reappeared on the wire puzzle.
From here they explored the rest of the 2nd level, uncovering a number of smaller chambers for visitors and some sort of carpeted room with a layer or ground and shattered glass.
After this they went cautiously to the 3rd floor. It was here that T'Nagrath had made his presence first known to the group, the Forest Troll dead and gone now. It was the Kitchen, Larder, and Dining Hall. The group gave each room a cursory overview but as they had already checked it out before, there was nothing new uncovered.
Then it was to the 4th floor. There was a larger chamber that had been destroyed; a skeletal figure with its head twisted completely around was hurled against the ruins of a bed, a few arrows rattling around its rib cage. There was a narrow corridor surrounding the central stairs and 6 small chambers for servants radiating off from there. We had been here before (including the room with the slain mimic) and after a short inspection, declared the 4th floor cleared.
The 5th floor was the tower master's bed chamber and across the hall was a second chamber where his Siberian tiger familiar once resided. Detheron was most cautious about being in here (as he had a run in with the wraith-like familiar once before) but we looked over the chambers and decided there was nothing new to be found within.
This meant it was time to use the black crystal and silver charm to get past the wards on our way to the 6th floor. The wards were subdued and we made it to the 6th floor landing. The same landing that we knew the library was on. Our immediate goal.
We knew that both doors could not be opened at the same time as it would make a disjointing/spatial rift, but for some reason both doors would open to duplicate libraries. We cautiously opened one of them and looked in. It was as we had left it, and we knew there was to be one "gargoyle cat" from the shelf gone and broken. It was, but there was a short 2' tall large nosed winged creature in its place.
We avoided entering and had some words with it; it jumped down and pointed at the party, speaking in some demonic tongue. And then the door was forced open and the imp was struggling to cast some ensorcellment on the charm.
Karis and Flarg shut the door with their combined strengths. The party was gearing up to fight the creature, Karis calling to Tyr to bless the party with the fury of the gods and Detheron calling on the strength of the bull to infuse Flarg.
And we ended it here on Deathmonth the 16th at 11:50.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Meet 56, Adv 7, 1/31/09
It's nice when the group learns from their mistakes.
No DM wants to spend meeting after meeting kicking their players into the meat grinder and watching them get chewed up. (Well, there are a FEW that enjoy that - but their groups don't last long) So when they actually seriously put a plan together and execute it, even if the details had to change after "contact with the enemy" was made - such skill and effort should be commended and noted.
Fengarth's Tower was nebulously designed as a 6-9th level short side adventure. The group has gone back every level since 3rd - determined to plumb its depth and reach its heights - and emerge with whatever treasure's they could find.
And to date - they've encountered and finally killed TWO (count them - 1...2!) denizens. :)
I can't wait to see their efforts on their return.
Write up follows:
Karis took a walk to Malcath's Traders to get some bed rolls, tents and provisions – talking with the gnomish proprietor for a bit before leaving. Detheron went to get Clipclop the mule from the stablery after going to visit Deidra – informing his friend that should they not return to town for 10 days, she was to take the black/silver charm (tower charm) and throw it over the side of the city into the midden.
From there we all gathered at the base of the lift and went to the Greengrocer Coalition – eventually to Altern Lamatous' domicile. The bugbear leader, 5 of his clan mates, and 4-5 humans from the coalition were inside the warm house drinking some sort of homemade liquor. Conversation followed and the group got to the point – they wanted the opportunity to bring one of the bugbears with them now. Specifically Flarg.
Minimal haggling followed and the party agreed to the last terms they had with the Drywood clan – 25 crowns up front plus a fair and equal share of whatever treasures were found. Also, should the unthinkable arise, an additional 25 crowns for funerary rites and burial.
Flarg was overjoyed to come with the party and the group headed off toward the west, tramping through the snowy grassland. We constantly looked behind us, but did not see anyone following (ie: Sheriff Phozarn). Eventually the sun was setting and the group had guessed they had put 5 hard miles behind them. Endurance spells were handed out to all (including the animals), tents were erected, rations were eaten and we talked about what was to come tomorrow.
We awoke the next day and broke our fast and studied – both Fabambus and Coruth'tae going through the efforts to not only refine their list of spells, but the elven illusionist had been turning the party invisible one member at a time so that when we did arrive at Fengarth's Tower – we would be able to approach and engage the Forest Troll with care and surprise.
Roped together we walked through the cold snow for another hour or two until the growing familiar sight of Fengarth's Tower loomed into view. It appeared to be abandoned, but we were still leery. Peering through the front doorway, the main entrance chamber looked undisturbed. We removed the ropes and with exaggerated care Karis whispered he would enter first. He stepped over the threshold.
A magical Alarm spell rang off from below his feet and then a shimmering ward slapped into place across the entrance behind him – sealing him off from the rest of the group.
And then the door to the basement levels burst open and T'Nagrath emerged with the Staff of Power brandished before him and a roaring cry…that died down as he beheld no one in the hall. He looked carefully, Karis holding perfectly still (and invisible), seeing no one. He backed down the stairs a step and there was some sort of crinkling paper noise – and then he was having a one sided conversation with someone. It went like:
"There's no one there."
"I'm telling you the hall is empty."
"Your spell didn't go off right."
"I'm telling you I don't see anyone."
"There aren't many charges left."
"Grrrr. Impudent human. Fine!"
Then the Forest Troll tilted the Staff towards the entrance and let fly a Fireball. Karis leapt away but was still caught in the blast that rocketed around the room (the ward preventing it from going outside), the stalwart half-ogre's mighty strength and fortitude keeping him vertical. He clamped his mouth closed to keep from screaming or complaining in pain – putting out the fires from his clothes with rapid pat of his arms. His invisibility was still in place.
Meanwhile, outside, Fabambus readied one of his few Battering Bolts into his crossbow taking aim of the troll through the ward – hoping that if the bolt did take the ward down, it might hit T'Nagrath who was still looking around the smoking chamber and muttering, "There is no one here, mageling!"
Then the gnome fired. His invisibility shroud faded and the missile slammed like a gong against the ward. The spell held – but the stones AROUND the doorframe failed! The entrance (still warded) slipped backwards into the tower and fell over – allowing entrance and egress from the tower.
T'Nagrath looked at the now visible gnome and laughed. "Another adventurer here to try their mettle against T'Nagrath? HAH HAHAHAH!" Meanwhile Gwyn was getting into position, readying his own magical bolt in place while Coruth'tae (out of visible range from the Forest Troll) prepared an Improved Phantasmal Force spell. Fabambus shouted, "Prepare to die Troll!"
T'Nagrath made to step forward but Gwyn turned visible fired his own Crossbow bolt. Coruth'tae used his illusionary powers to make the bolt being fired look like a Blessed Bolt of Thor! The troll screamed and tried to back away – but a few feet shy of hitting him the illusion was peeled back and only the bolt itself hit him. Fabambus and Coruth'tae looked at each other and groaned – Globe of Invulnerability! That meant no spells that any of them could cast could affect the troll. Including the Lighting Bolt Spell! Damn it! How long would the spell ward last?
The troll had been knocked down the stairs a bit and Flarg the bugbear ran in, grabbing the door handles and pulling them closed. Detheron had cast a spell of strength on the already powerful bugbear, making him a force to be reckoned against even the troll. T'Nagrath was screaming to open the door and let him out while Flarg held the handles closed. The party drew up into a battle line, most of them with crossbows and bows ready. Both Fabambus and Gwyn gathered some poisoned bolts together, readying them for an even nastier surprise.
Karis told the party they would have to kill T'Nagrath with brute strength and then cut his heart out – taking it outside and blasting it there away from the Globe of Invulnerability. The half-ogre and the bugbear barbarian drew themselves ready, Flarg using Gwyn's flaming Battleaxe “Blaze” for this engagement…and then they opened the door.
T'Nagrath leapt out, Staff of Power leading the way, trying to batter Flarg aside – but he was struck by arrows and bolts staggering and wobbling and howling. Then Karis' sword arched around from the side, cleaving the troll's chest open wide. Flarg's axe burst into fire and the bugbear started beating T'Nagrath in time with Karis – the two titans delivering terrible damage to the howling and warbling troll. He struggled to fight back but the troll was overmatched and began falling down. And then Smokey joined the melee and the troll was slashed open across his throat – the grizzly bear delivering punishing damage.
Once down the party went to work swiftly. His hands and head were removed with sword and axe while others carved his heart out of his still chest. Then it was taken outside and Detheron called on Frey to grant him the power to Call Lightning – the powerful enchantment building in the snow choked sky above. Until 10 minutes passed and the air was charged – and a single stroke of lightning slammed down like Mjolnir – blasting into T'Nagrath's severed heart. Ending the Forest Troll's chance at regenerating ever again.
Sundered Chains: 1. Forest Troll: 0. (A round of applause for the party for handling and defeating one of their nemesis)
From here they traveled into the tower and looked downstairs, hoping to see who the troll was talking to. On a whim, Detheron withdrew his silvered cage with the unicorn's horn in it – and the horn spun about within – and pointed straight down – very warm in his hands.
Damn. The unicorn's severed head was here. Here. Now. And below.
They ran to the door and went to run down to the 2nd sublevel but there was a blast of inrushing air and they arrived in time to see a teleporting portal rift shut in the dim light. And the unicorn horn spun slowly in the cage which grew cool – the horn pointing east.
In the basement were 3 new blood stains – and the body of a 6 year old street urchin looking boy. He looked just slain, and his fingers had been broken and bent back and forth. The party deduced that Vanir had been here, had been helping T'Nagrath, and was still pursuing whatever aims they were after. Detheron's geas was back in remission but the druid was seething – his desire to find the unicorn's severed head still alive and well. The party searched the boy over – finding a small handful of brass bits – with the "tails" side of the coins bearing Principia's stamp. They had some clue where Vanir was holed up and what he was doing.
The gnome took out his wand and held it aloft, activating it – searching for gold! He guided the party upstairs to the 2nd floor…the 3rd…and then the 4th. They went carefully looking around for whatever gold the gnome said was up here (they could not go beyond the 5th floor since they did not bring the charm with them). In one of the last rooms on this floor (which used to house whatever servants Fengarth had living here) they found a single large wooden iron bound chest with a nice lock in good repair.
Half the party remembered that it was a mimic and should be handled with care. Fabambus had an idea – taking a speck of webbing from his pouch he flung it at the chest and summoned a Web spell – encasing the mimic within! He then told Karis and Flarg to beat it while the webbing was in place. They ran forward and the mimic tried to come to life to attack them but it was bound by the web strands and the half-ogre and bugbear spent a few minutes hacking at the thrashing creature until it stopped moving.
Once dead, the party carefully opened the mimic and peered within. The question was posed, "Where does a mimic store its treasure?" and the gnome answered snidely, "Inside a dead human." Some of the party laughed uproariously at this. But there was treasure within: gold and silver and some jewelry bearing the marking of KS on distinctive bands (some of the history minded party members knew the rings to belong once to a warrior of renown named Kris Snorrith during the Ogre Wars), a silver dagger with a robin's egg sized emerald in the pommel, and a feathered gold leaf band that once belonged to the famed Griffon Riders of Rohn.
We gathered what we could and then left here, checking the other chambers with care – until we spied a raven in one of them. Detheron approached it carefully and then enacted Lavender's Ring – speaking with it. It said its name was Kevas and was spying on T'Nagrath for its master, Ssisska. Where was its master? Up. Ssisska ran the top of the tower and T'Nagrath ran the bottom of the tower. They hated each other. Kevas couldn't say what Ssisska was – just had two arms, two legs, a face…And wings. Then it said it had to tell Ssisska about the party and that T'Nagrath was not here.
At that the party felt they had to get out of Fengarth's Tower and left – not prepared to meet another other creatures in the Tower, to meet Ssisska, or to learn anything about it. They loaded up Clipclop and left Fengarth's Tower behind, looking back often to make sure they weren't followed and all was safe (enough) on their trip back to Orihalcus.
No DM wants to spend meeting after meeting kicking their players into the meat grinder and watching them get chewed up. (Well, there are a FEW that enjoy that - but their groups don't last long) So when they actually seriously put a plan together and execute it, even if the details had to change after "contact with the enemy" was made - such skill and effort should be commended and noted.
Fengarth's Tower was nebulously designed as a 6-9th level short side adventure. The group has gone back every level since 3rd - determined to plumb its depth and reach its heights - and emerge with whatever treasure's they could find.
And to date - they've encountered and finally killed TWO (count them - 1...2!) denizens. :)
I can't wait to see their efforts on their return.
Write up follows:
Karis took a walk to Malcath's Traders to get some bed rolls, tents and provisions – talking with the gnomish proprietor for a bit before leaving. Detheron went to get Clipclop the mule from the stablery after going to visit Deidra – informing his friend that should they not return to town for 10 days, she was to take the black/silver charm (tower charm) and throw it over the side of the city into the midden.
From there we all gathered at the base of the lift and went to the Greengrocer Coalition – eventually to Altern Lamatous' domicile. The bugbear leader, 5 of his clan mates, and 4-5 humans from the coalition were inside the warm house drinking some sort of homemade liquor. Conversation followed and the group got to the point – they wanted the opportunity to bring one of the bugbears with them now. Specifically Flarg.
Minimal haggling followed and the party agreed to the last terms they had with the Drywood clan – 25 crowns up front plus a fair and equal share of whatever treasures were found. Also, should the unthinkable arise, an additional 25 crowns for funerary rites and burial.
Flarg was overjoyed to come with the party and the group headed off toward the west, tramping through the snowy grassland. We constantly looked behind us, but did not see anyone following (ie: Sheriff Phozarn). Eventually the sun was setting and the group had guessed they had put 5 hard miles behind them. Endurance spells were handed out to all (including the animals), tents were erected, rations were eaten and we talked about what was to come tomorrow.
We awoke the next day and broke our fast and studied – both Fabambus and Coruth'tae going through the efforts to not only refine their list of spells, but the elven illusionist had been turning the party invisible one member at a time so that when we did arrive at Fengarth's Tower – we would be able to approach and engage the Forest Troll with care and surprise.
Roped together we walked through the cold snow for another hour or two until the growing familiar sight of Fengarth's Tower loomed into view. It appeared to be abandoned, but we were still leery. Peering through the front doorway, the main entrance chamber looked undisturbed. We removed the ropes and with exaggerated care Karis whispered he would enter first. He stepped over the threshold.
A magical Alarm spell rang off from below his feet and then a shimmering ward slapped into place across the entrance behind him – sealing him off from the rest of the group.
And then the door to the basement levels burst open and T'Nagrath emerged with the Staff of Power brandished before him and a roaring cry…that died down as he beheld no one in the hall. He looked carefully, Karis holding perfectly still (and invisible), seeing no one. He backed down the stairs a step and there was some sort of crinkling paper noise – and then he was having a one sided conversation with someone. It went like:
"There's no one there."
"I'm telling you the hall is empty."
"Your spell didn't go off right."
"I'm telling you I don't see anyone."
"There aren't many charges left."
"Grrrr. Impudent human. Fine!"
Then the Forest Troll tilted the Staff towards the entrance and let fly a Fireball. Karis leapt away but was still caught in the blast that rocketed around the room (the ward preventing it from going outside), the stalwart half-ogre's mighty strength and fortitude keeping him vertical. He clamped his mouth closed to keep from screaming or complaining in pain – putting out the fires from his clothes with rapid pat of his arms. His invisibility was still in place.
Meanwhile, outside, Fabambus readied one of his few Battering Bolts into his crossbow taking aim of the troll through the ward – hoping that if the bolt did take the ward down, it might hit T'Nagrath who was still looking around the smoking chamber and muttering, "There is no one here, mageling!"
Then the gnome fired. His invisibility shroud faded and the missile slammed like a gong against the ward. The spell held – but the stones AROUND the doorframe failed! The entrance (still warded) slipped backwards into the tower and fell over – allowing entrance and egress from the tower.
T'Nagrath looked at the now visible gnome and laughed. "Another adventurer here to try their mettle against T'Nagrath? HAH HAHAHAH!" Meanwhile Gwyn was getting into position, readying his own magical bolt in place while Coruth'tae (out of visible range from the Forest Troll) prepared an Improved Phantasmal Force spell. Fabambus shouted, "Prepare to die Troll!"
T'Nagrath made to step forward but Gwyn turned visible fired his own Crossbow bolt. Coruth'tae used his illusionary powers to make the bolt being fired look like a Blessed Bolt of Thor! The troll screamed and tried to back away – but a few feet shy of hitting him the illusion was peeled back and only the bolt itself hit him. Fabambus and Coruth'tae looked at each other and groaned – Globe of Invulnerability! That meant no spells that any of them could cast could affect the troll. Including the Lighting Bolt Spell! Damn it! How long would the spell ward last?
The troll had been knocked down the stairs a bit and Flarg the bugbear ran in, grabbing the door handles and pulling them closed. Detheron had cast a spell of strength on the already powerful bugbear, making him a force to be reckoned against even the troll. T'Nagrath was screaming to open the door and let him out while Flarg held the handles closed. The party drew up into a battle line, most of them with crossbows and bows ready. Both Fabambus and Gwyn gathered some poisoned bolts together, readying them for an even nastier surprise.
Karis told the party they would have to kill T'Nagrath with brute strength and then cut his heart out – taking it outside and blasting it there away from the Globe of Invulnerability. The half-ogre and the bugbear barbarian drew themselves ready, Flarg using Gwyn's flaming Battleaxe “Blaze” for this engagement…and then they opened the door.
T'Nagrath leapt out, Staff of Power leading the way, trying to batter Flarg aside – but he was struck by arrows and bolts staggering and wobbling and howling. Then Karis' sword arched around from the side, cleaving the troll's chest open wide. Flarg's axe burst into fire and the bugbear started beating T'Nagrath in time with Karis – the two titans delivering terrible damage to the howling and warbling troll. He struggled to fight back but the troll was overmatched and began falling down. And then Smokey joined the melee and the troll was slashed open across his throat – the grizzly bear delivering punishing damage.
Once down the party went to work swiftly. His hands and head were removed with sword and axe while others carved his heart out of his still chest. Then it was taken outside and Detheron called on Frey to grant him the power to Call Lightning – the powerful enchantment building in the snow choked sky above. Until 10 minutes passed and the air was charged – and a single stroke of lightning slammed down like Mjolnir – blasting into T'Nagrath's severed heart. Ending the Forest Troll's chance at regenerating ever again.
Sundered Chains: 1. Forest Troll: 0. (A round of applause for the party for handling and defeating one of their nemesis)
From here they traveled into the tower and looked downstairs, hoping to see who the troll was talking to. On a whim, Detheron withdrew his silvered cage with the unicorn's horn in it – and the horn spun about within – and pointed straight down – very warm in his hands.
Damn. The unicorn's severed head was here. Here. Now. And below.
They ran to the door and went to run down to the 2nd sublevel but there was a blast of inrushing air and they arrived in time to see a teleporting portal rift shut in the dim light. And the unicorn horn spun slowly in the cage which grew cool – the horn pointing east.
In the basement were 3 new blood stains – and the body of a 6 year old street urchin looking boy. He looked just slain, and his fingers had been broken and bent back and forth. The party deduced that Vanir had been here, had been helping T'Nagrath, and was still pursuing whatever aims they were after. Detheron's geas was back in remission but the druid was seething – his desire to find the unicorn's severed head still alive and well. The party searched the boy over – finding a small handful of brass bits – with the "tails" side of the coins bearing Principia's stamp. They had some clue where Vanir was holed up and what he was doing.
The gnome took out his wand and held it aloft, activating it – searching for gold! He guided the party upstairs to the 2nd floor…the 3rd…and then the 4th. They went carefully looking around for whatever gold the gnome said was up here (they could not go beyond the 5th floor since they did not bring the charm with them). In one of the last rooms on this floor (which used to house whatever servants Fengarth had living here) they found a single large wooden iron bound chest with a nice lock in good repair.
Half the party remembered that it was a mimic and should be handled with care. Fabambus had an idea – taking a speck of webbing from his pouch he flung it at the chest and summoned a Web spell – encasing the mimic within! He then told Karis and Flarg to beat it while the webbing was in place. They ran forward and the mimic tried to come to life to attack them but it was bound by the web strands and the half-ogre and bugbear spent a few minutes hacking at the thrashing creature until it stopped moving.
Once dead, the party carefully opened the mimic and peered within. The question was posed, "Where does a mimic store its treasure?" and the gnome answered snidely, "Inside a dead human." Some of the party laughed uproariously at this. But there was treasure within: gold and silver and some jewelry bearing the marking of KS on distinctive bands (some of the history minded party members knew the rings to belong once to a warrior of renown named Kris Snorrith during the Ogre Wars), a silver dagger with a robin's egg sized emerald in the pommel, and a feathered gold leaf band that once belonged to the famed Griffon Riders of Rohn.
We gathered what we could and then left here, checking the other chambers with care – until we spied a raven in one of them. Detheron approached it carefully and then enacted Lavender's Ring – speaking with it. It said its name was Kevas and was spying on T'Nagrath for its master, Ssisska. Where was its master? Up. Ssisska ran the top of the tower and T'Nagrath ran the bottom of the tower. They hated each other. Kevas couldn't say what Ssisska was – just had two arms, two legs, a face…And wings. Then it said it had to tell Ssisska about the party and that T'Nagrath was not here.
At that the party felt they had to get out of Fengarth's Tower and left – not prepared to meet another other creatures in the Tower, to meet Ssisska, or to learn anything about it. They loaded up Clipclop and left Fengarth's Tower behind, looking back often to make sure they weren't followed and all was safe (enough) on their trip back to Orihalcus.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Meet 55, Adv 7, 1/24/09
I've played in games where travel from one place to another is just a few sentences and I've played in games where the entire night is a slog fest where the DM is rolling rolling rolling behind his screen to check for what type of birds are keeping us up at night and the quantity of the horse droppings on the road.
I like a mix - brush past the generic junk and slow down on the interesting parts. I have gone back and forth over the last 3 decades over weather in my games - and sometimes I had a tendency to forget about it.
In this game I was reminded early on (especially with a druid in the group) to reflect it in the game and have been pretty true on checking. Simple roll: 1-3 Sunny, 4-6 cloudy, 7-9 precipitation, 10 Special weather. And I also do a temp check: Winter is 30, spring/fall is 55, summer is 80 - modified by a roll on the D6: 1 is -15, 2 is -10, 3-4 is within 5 of normal, 5 is +10, 6 is +15 degrees. Its short, sweet, and simple and I can play or modify the results as needed.
During the game I had rolled swiftly during the party's trek (which is normally 3 days by cart/wagon/caravan) and immediately rolled a 10. It's winter. So I went with Blizzard. A short roll on a couple of d10's had 19" of snow due to fall. And every day's weather check (5 more days!) after that was either sunny and bitterly cold, or more damned snow!
Except for the day the temp rose to about 35 and it was sleet and freezing rain - on 2 plus feet of accumulated snow.
Sometimes the weather witch (inside joke) affects the gaming group as much as it affects the real world.
Write up follows:
On the morning of the 5th of Deathmonth the party was gathered at the common room of the Adventurer's Guild, discussing not only the upcoming assault against T'Nagrath the Forest Troll at Fengarth's Tower, but also our return to Dargan's Folley and the dangers we would be facing there.
Fabambus grew quite animated at the table, questioning the group's acumen and paucity concerning the cheap way we resolved to take care of the Forest Troll. Foregoing a Lightning Bolt spell in favor of a Shocking Grasp just seemed ludicrous. The gnome just did not feel it was safe or prudent and suggested that we go to the local sage and discuss the matter with him. Coruth'tae was loathe to shell out the sage's fee (since we had talked to him over a month earlier) and opted instead to go to the library in order to find some information there – and Detheron was going to join him, but to instead learn about gnolls and their skills and weaknesses since we would be encountering them again soon.
Hours passed and the party spent much time talking and reading and checking – but it was Fabambus who ended up discovering the same crucial bit of information that the party had already learned before but had forgotten – although Forest Trolls are weak against electrical discharges, even falling fatal to them – it would take a concentrated electrical current aimed at the beast's heart to slay it.
A single electrical blast of some magnitude.
Most likely beyond that of a single Shocking Grasp spell.
So now the group had to think, what to do next? We could buy one, but it would cost 1,000 crowns and the party began piling their monies together – having just enough to pay for a scroll. After that there were some small issues to wrap up but it was already after 3 so leaving town today was frowned upon and we made plans to leave tomorrow on the 6th.
We slept well but the sky was grey and clouds low and the snow we expected began to fall after we left Cymbarton. As we traveled on it grew worse and there was talk of turning back to wait it out – but we instead sheltered at some trees for a spell. When enough time had passed and the accumulating snow showed no sign of letting up, we opted to press on to Ponyboro. Normally Ponyboro is a day and a half from Cymbarton by caravan/wagon and we anticipated some delay.
The storm grew worse and we rested after the sun had set, eating what food we had and stoking a fire to keep us and our mounts warm. The night passed and the following day there was now 2 feet of snow on the ground. Happy that we had the skis on the wagon, we pressed on – fighting through the drifts through muscle and straining effort. Endurance spells were doled out to help stave off the worst of the cold. Another inch of flurries fell but we stayed the course. We rested that night (the 8th) already past the point when we should be at Ponyboro. Some strange calls and screeches were heard in the night sky but nothing came of it.
The next morning met us with biting cold and 15 degree temperatures, and wind gusts up to 30 mph that blew the snow into large 3 and 4' drifts. Endurance spells were renewed and the mounts were treated carefully as we made our way southwest. It was a miserable trip and the sun was beginning to set when we came over the low hills and saw Ponyboro at long last. We made sure our horses were stabled and Fabambus was impressed with the Rampant Griffon – suggesting strongly that we stay there. Chuckle.
Rooms were gotten along with hot meals and strong drink. And while the group was bedding down, Karis wanted to go to the Silverbough Demesne to talk to the lord about getting back our cart and two mountain ponies that had gone with the kobold women Ilva, Hrundi, and Bara when they came here. Some of the party told him to let it go, but the templar wanted to get them back. Coruth'tae offered to go with him and they went off to the Silverbough's.
They met with Lord Healy and his adjunct Steward Thanis – the two of them willing to entertain the half-ogre and grey elf. The Sundered Chains were spoken of highly and looked on with some thanks for their efforts in exposing the Lycos Suns and stopping the theft of the children some months ago. Plus the appearance of the kobold women, the letters from Sir Walter and the respect shown by Lord Daernhorse all paved the way for a smooth meeting.
It went well enough but the half elven lord and the steward informed the group that the ponies and cart had been gifted to the Silverbough Demesne by Lord Daernhorse to help pay for the family in housing the kobolds and employing them – especially since they lost willing tenants who refused to live and work near them. So there was going to be no return of the ponies or cart – the group didn't own them. Coruth'tae and Karis tried a bit harder but the Silverbough's weren't really inclined to budge and suggested that they could take it up with Lord Daernhorse if they wanted to. Figuring out the truth of it, they got the hint and left after thanking them and went back to the Rampant Griffin to sleep.
The next day was the 9th and it was 30 degrees and had low clouds – grey and heavy. More snow coming. Do they stay in Ponyboro or take their chances? The party went back and forth on it (Fabambus and Detheron opting to stay, Karis and Coruth'tae opting to go, Gwyn willing to stay if Karis paid his bar bill) but decided to chance the road.
We went on but with the large drifts and difficult travels lost the road a few times, Detheron doing all he could to keep us heading on. Endurance spells were given out again and we rode on – until MORE snow fell! Miserable and cold and surly, there was little conversation that night over the cold rations. In fact as far as firewood was concerned, they found little of it – Detheron asking Frey for the ability to stretch out the life and longevity of the burning fire.
The next day was just cold. Biting and 10 degrees. The Dusty Mountains rose on our right and the foothills dropped to our left as we moved on slowly. Our food stores were getting low and it only served to aggravate the party more. There was a passing shadow and we beheld a draconic figure fly overhead, 40' wing span and long waving tail. Wyvern. It gave the group a single look and then flew off. Lovely.
There was no firewood to be found that night and the party was treated to a falling rain. Cold sleeting rain. It soaked into our clothes and our bedrolls and made the road for the next day a disgusting mess. Coruth'tae and one of the horses were growing ill on the next day and after some time Detheron removed disease on both of them. We were so tired. And so cold. And so wet. And we just wanted to get home. And it was the 3rd day of travel and almost twice as long as needed to get home. The wyvern came back, dipping lower, and giving the group two passes before flying off.
We grew desperate and we grew sloppy. As we were riding in the fading dusk and pressing on, Detheron lost sight of the road and control of the team. They began to slide off the road to the left, a 50 degree slope over 200' down. The party jumped off but the druid stayed, hands wrapped around the reins as he ached to turn the horses back from the sliding slope. Karis tried to cut him free but couldn't get a grip and the 4 horses, wagon, and Detheron rode over the side of the cliff.
The two lead horses were twisted and over run, legs breaking and whinnying screams filling the air. The wagon picked up speed and the traces snapped, the driving yoke spearing another horse as the entire wagon lifted and ran over the tumbling steeds. Detheron tried to ride the sleigh down the hill but as it lost control and began to flip wildly, he jumped free. The buckboard slammed into his neck and back and he cart wheeled down the rest of the hill, his belongings flying wildly free until he came to a pain filled stop amidst the wreckage.
The sun was setting and the group did not have enough rope to get down and help. Light was fading fast and was there a wyvern nearby? Detheron could not climb back up the hill and there were horses dead and dying halfway down.
It was decided at long last that Karis would take his and Gwyn's mining pick, sit on his shield, and ride it down to the horse, stopping there to put the animals out of their misery if it was obvious that he couldn't save or heal them. He did so, ending the animals' pain until continuing the slide to the bottom. Once there he helped Detheron get himself healed and the two of them went through the wreckage of the wagon, salvaging what they could. Then it was a climb up the hill to Detheron's spilled backpack where they looked for all he had carried – finding most of it, a few items lost forever in the snow.
With no light and sleeting rain still falling, it was time to finish the climb back to the other party members. Karis hacked his way up the icy slop with the two picks, Detheron used a Spider Climb spell to facilitate it. Once together we slogged on slow and cold and hungry to the gates of Orihalcus.
We checked in and went to our home where we saw the repairs had been done. We changed out of our cold and wet clothes and had nothing to eat in the house – opting to go to the Blue and Dancing Minepick where we would sit with Fabambus and talk. But the gnome was very dissatisfied with the party. He felt they were foolish and reckless, not enough sense to take care of themselves. Anyone who would be with them would be at risk and most likely not come back. And he did not want to have anything to do with them or their adventure or anything. He took his brandy and went up to his room and the party was stunned.
Gwyn and Detheron understood the gnome's frustration and there was talk – we had lost our way, our edge, since we had taken down the Lycos Suns. Something about our party was no longer as tight and capable as it used to be. And the gnome could see this. Karis and Coruth'tae offered to go talk to Fabambus and try to convince him to come with them tomorrow.
They were less than diplomatic in their conversation and the gnome was unmoved and wanted nothing to do with them. They left disgusted and went back home telling the druid and the dwarf that they would do it without the gnome. Meanwhile Sheriff Phozarn had shown up and the party had agreed that they would be leaving on the morning after tomorrow.
Plans were changed to leave on the morrow and not bring the Sheriff who Karis felt would try to attack him while outside the jurisdiction of the city. We slept and the next day Detheron spoke more about Fabambus and what the knight and illusionist had said to him – unhappy with their efforts. Not once did they apologize. They were arrogant and unyielding. He offered to go talk, taking Gwyn with him.
Fabambus was willing to listen and was moved by the conversation and the heartfelt apology. They spoke at length and the gnome agreed to go with the party on two caveats: 1) the party would have to listen to his ideas instead of just brushing them off (he had been an adventuring party leader for 2 years without a single death or mishap) and 2) he would get first dibs on any magical item they found while at the tower. Anything. Detheron and Gwyn agreed and the gnome got his stuff ready.
Upon explaining their efforts to the other two, there was much anger – from Coruth'tae. Expecting to find the Staff of Power at some point, he didn't want the gnome to come. There was much talking and eventually Fabambus showed up and the deal was unchangeable – take it or leave it. We needed him more than he needed us – and we agreed.
And that's where we left it. It is Deathmonth the 12th about 10:00 and we had snowshoes and were on our way to the lift to start the trek to Fengarth's Tower (4 hours overland normally).
I like a mix - brush past the generic junk and slow down on the interesting parts. I have gone back and forth over the last 3 decades over weather in my games - and sometimes I had a tendency to forget about it.
In this game I was reminded early on (especially with a druid in the group) to reflect it in the game and have been pretty true on checking. Simple roll: 1-3 Sunny, 4-6 cloudy, 7-9 precipitation, 10 Special weather. And I also do a temp check: Winter is 30, spring/fall is 55, summer is 80 - modified by a roll on the D6: 1 is -15, 2 is -10, 3-4 is within 5 of normal, 5 is +10, 6 is +15 degrees. Its short, sweet, and simple and I can play or modify the results as needed.
During the game I had rolled swiftly during the party's trek (which is normally 3 days by cart/wagon/caravan) and immediately rolled a 10. It's winter. So I went with Blizzard. A short roll on a couple of d10's had 19" of snow due to fall. And every day's weather check (5 more days!) after that was either sunny and bitterly cold, or more damned snow!
Except for the day the temp rose to about 35 and it was sleet and freezing rain - on 2 plus feet of accumulated snow.
Sometimes the weather witch (inside joke) affects the gaming group as much as it affects the real world.
Write up follows:
On the morning of the 5th of Deathmonth the party was gathered at the common room of the Adventurer's Guild, discussing not only the upcoming assault against T'Nagrath the Forest Troll at Fengarth's Tower, but also our return to Dargan's Folley and the dangers we would be facing there.
Fabambus grew quite animated at the table, questioning the group's acumen and paucity concerning the cheap way we resolved to take care of the Forest Troll. Foregoing a Lightning Bolt spell in favor of a Shocking Grasp just seemed ludicrous. The gnome just did not feel it was safe or prudent and suggested that we go to the local sage and discuss the matter with him. Coruth'tae was loathe to shell out the sage's fee (since we had talked to him over a month earlier) and opted instead to go to the library in order to find some information there – and Detheron was going to join him, but to instead learn about gnolls and their skills and weaknesses since we would be encountering them again soon.
Hours passed and the party spent much time talking and reading and checking – but it was Fabambus who ended up discovering the same crucial bit of information that the party had already learned before but had forgotten – although Forest Trolls are weak against electrical discharges, even falling fatal to them – it would take a concentrated electrical current aimed at the beast's heart to slay it.
A single electrical blast of some magnitude.
Most likely beyond that of a single Shocking Grasp spell.
So now the group had to think, what to do next? We could buy one, but it would cost 1,000 crowns and the party began piling their monies together – having just enough to pay for a scroll. After that there were some small issues to wrap up but it was already after 3 so leaving town today was frowned upon and we made plans to leave tomorrow on the 6th.
We slept well but the sky was grey and clouds low and the snow we expected began to fall after we left Cymbarton. As we traveled on it grew worse and there was talk of turning back to wait it out – but we instead sheltered at some trees for a spell. When enough time had passed and the accumulating snow showed no sign of letting up, we opted to press on to Ponyboro. Normally Ponyboro is a day and a half from Cymbarton by caravan/wagon and we anticipated some delay.
The storm grew worse and we rested after the sun had set, eating what food we had and stoking a fire to keep us and our mounts warm. The night passed and the following day there was now 2 feet of snow on the ground. Happy that we had the skis on the wagon, we pressed on – fighting through the drifts through muscle and straining effort. Endurance spells were doled out to help stave off the worst of the cold. Another inch of flurries fell but we stayed the course. We rested that night (the 8th) already past the point when we should be at Ponyboro. Some strange calls and screeches were heard in the night sky but nothing came of it.
The next morning met us with biting cold and 15 degree temperatures, and wind gusts up to 30 mph that blew the snow into large 3 and 4' drifts. Endurance spells were renewed and the mounts were treated carefully as we made our way southwest. It was a miserable trip and the sun was beginning to set when we came over the low hills and saw Ponyboro at long last. We made sure our horses were stabled and Fabambus was impressed with the Rampant Griffon – suggesting strongly that we stay there. Chuckle.
Rooms were gotten along with hot meals and strong drink. And while the group was bedding down, Karis wanted to go to the Silverbough Demesne to talk to the lord about getting back our cart and two mountain ponies that had gone with the kobold women Ilva, Hrundi, and Bara when they came here. Some of the party told him to let it go, but the templar wanted to get them back. Coruth'tae offered to go with him and they went off to the Silverbough's.
They met with Lord Healy and his adjunct Steward Thanis – the two of them willing to entertain the half-ogre and grey elf. The Sundered Chains were spoken of highly and looked on with some thanks for their efforts in exposing the Lycos Suns and stopping the theft of the children some months ago. Plus the appearance of the kobold women, the letters from Sir Walter and the respect shown by Lord Daernhorse all paved the way for a smooth meeting.
It went well enough but the half elven lord and the steward informed the group that the ponies and cart had been gifted to the Silverbough Demesne by Lord Daernhorse to help pay for the family in housing the kobolds and employing them – especially since they lost willing tenants who refused to live and work near them. So there was going to be no return of the ponies or cart – the group didn't own them. Coruth'tae and Karis tried a bit harder but the Silverbough's weren't really inclined to budge and suggested that they could take it up with Lord Daernhorse if they wanted to. Figuring out the truth of it, they got the hint and left after thanking them and went back to the Rampant Griffin to sleep.
The next day was the 9th and it was 30 degrees and had low clouds – grey and heavy. More snow coming. Do they stay in Ponyboro or take their chances? The party went back and forth on it (Fabambus and Detheron opting to stay, Karis and Coruth'tae opting to go, Gwyn willing to stay if Karis paid his bar bill) but decided to chance the road.
We went on but with the large drifts and difficult travels lost the road a few times, Detheron doing all he could to keep us heading on. Endurance spells were given out again and we rode on – until MORE snow fell! Miserable and cold and surly, there was little conversation that night over the cold rations. In fact as far as firewood was concerned, they found little of it – Detheron asking Frey for the ability to stretch out the life and longevity of the burning fire.
The next day was just cold. Biting and 10 degrees. The Dusty Mountains rose on our right and the foothills dropped to our left as we moved on slowly. Our food stores were getting low and it only served to aggravate the party more. There was a passing shadow and we beheld a draconic figure fly overhead, 40' wing span and long waving tail. Wyvern. It gave the group a single look and then flew off. Lovely.
There was no firewood to be found that night and the party was treated to a falling rain. Cold sleeting rain. It soaked into our clothes and our bedrolls and made the road for the next day a disgusting mess. Coruth'tae and one of the horses were growing ill on the next day and after some time Detheron removed disease on both of them. We were so tired. And so cold. And so wet. And we just wanted to get home. And it was the 3rd day of travel and almost twice as long as needed to get home. The wyvern came back, dipping lower, and giving the group two passes before flying off.
We grew desperate and we grew sloppy. As we were riding in the fading dusk and pressing on, Detheron lost sight of the road and control of the team. They began to slide off the road to the left, a 50 degree slope over 200' down. The party jumped off but the druid stayed, hands wrapped around the reins as he ached to turn the horses back from the sliding slope. Karis tried to cut him free but couldn't get a grip and the 4 horses, wagon, and Detheron rode over the side of the cliff.
The two lead horses were twisted and over run, legs breaking and whinnying screams filling the air. The wagon picked up speed and the traces snapped, the driving yoke spearing another horse as the entire wagon lifted and ran over the tumbling steeds. Detheron tried to ride the sleigh down the hill but as it lost control and began to flip wildly, he jumped free. The buckboard slammed into his neck and back and he cart wheeled down the rest of the hill, his belongings flying wildly free until he came to a pain filled stop amidst the wreckage.
The sun was setting and the group did not have enough rope to get down and help. Light was fading fast and was there a wyvern nearby? Detheron could not climb back up the hill and there were horses dead and dying halfway down.
It was decided at long last that Karis would take his and Gwyn's mining pick, sit on his shield, and ride it down to the horse, stopping there to put the animals out of their misery if it was obvious that he couldn't save or heal them. He did so, ending the animals' pain until continuing the slide to the bottom. Once there he helped Detheron get himself healed and the two of them went through the wreckage of the wagon, salvaging what they could. Then it was a climb up the hill to Detheron's spilled backpack where they looked for all he had carried – finding most of it, a few items lost forever in the snow.
With no light and sleeting rain still falling, it was time to finish the climb back to the other party members. Karis hacked his way up the icy slop with the two picks, Detheron used a Spider Climb spell to facilitate it. Once together we slogged on slow and cold and hungry to the gates of Orihalcus.
We checked in and went to our home where we saw the repairs had been done. We changed out of our cold and wet clothes and had nothing to eat in the house – opting to go to the Blue and Dancing Minepick where we would sit with Fabambus and talk. But the gnome was very dissatisfied with the party. He felt they were foolish and reckless, not enough sense to take care of themselves. Anyone who would be with them would be at risk and most likely not come back. And he did not want to have anything to do with them or their adventure or anything. He took his brandy and went up to his room and the party was stunned.
Gwyn and Detheron understood the gnome's frustration and there was talk – we had lost our way, our edge, since we had taken down the Lycos Suns. Something about our party was no longer as tight and capable as it used to be. And the gnome could see this. Karis and Coruth'tae offered to go talk to Fabambus and try to convince him to come with them tomorrow.
They were less than diplomatic in their conversation and the gnome was unmoved and wanted nothing to do with them. They left disgusted and went back home telling the druid and the dwarf that they would do it without the gnome. Meanwhile Sheriff Phozarn had shown up and the party had agreed that they would be leaving on the morning after tomorrow.
Plans were changed to leave on the morrow and not bring the Sheriff who Karis felt would try to attack him while outside the jurisdiction of the city. We slept and the next day Detheron spoke more about Fabambus and what the knight and illusionist had said to him – unhappy with their efforts. Not once did they apologize. They were arrogant and unyielding. He offered to go talk, taking Gwyn with him.
Fabambus was willing to listen and was moved by the conversation and the heartfelt apology. They spoke at length and the gnome agreed to go with the party on two caveats: 1) the party would have to listen to his ideas instead of just brushing them off (he had been an adventuring party leader for 2 years without a single death or mishap) and 2) he would get first dibs on any magical item they found while at the tower. Anything. Detheron and Gwyn agreed and the gnome got his stuff ready.
Upon explaining their efforts to the other two, there was much anger – from Coruth'tae. Expecting to find the Staff of Power at some point, he didn't want the gnome to come. There was much talking and eventually Fabambus showed up and the deal was unchangeable – take it or leave it. We needed him more than he needed us – and we agreed.
And that's where we left it. It is Deathmonth the 12th about 10:00 and we had snowshoes and were on our way to the lift to start the trek to Fengarth's Tower (4 hours overland normally).
Friday, January 23, 2009
Meet 54, Adv 7, 1/17/09
Penny wise, Dollar foolish.
Yeah, sometimes the trip into the Deepdelve of Doom doesn't net the party a pile of coins thick enough to gag a dragon, and other times there are taxes, guild dues, training costs, armor and weapon upkeep, and reoutfitting costs to contend with that suck the players' coffers down. But when they party gets first hand knowledge of how to handle something and they decide on their own to ignore the single foremost clue on how to handle an issue - all for saving a pile of coins - you just know that it is not going to go over well.
They have faced off against T'Nagrath 3 times now. They know WHAT they have to do to kill him. But when faced with the daunting figure of 1,000 crowns, they opted to forego the Lightning Bolt spell and instead go for Shocking Grasp. The spell that does 1d8 + caster's level in damage. Forest trolls regenerate 20 hp/round, or only 1 hp/round from electricty. If taken down to below -10, they remain dormant for 2 hours until spontaneously regenerating around even the ashes of their burned up heart. Only a single slaying bolt of electricity into their chest can slay them. Read the operative word: Single. One. So even if they get him down to 0 HP and he passes out and they chop him into hamburger they need to do 10 hp of damage to the heart, and the 4th level mage casting Shocking Grasp is going to do 4 + random 1-8 or 5-12 hp of damage with a single bolt.
That means there is a 5/8 chance that they won't kill the troll. Even if they fire TWO Shocking Grasp's into the beast's heart - since all the texts they read and the sages they paid did say not only is electricty debilitating to these breed of trolls, but a single bolt of electricity would be needed to finish it off.
Of course, who is it that remembers this important detail? The player who was handling Zoltan. You know Zoltan? The dead thief? So there will be a player at the table with his new gnome character who is going to do his best not to metagame and know in the back of his mind - this is not going to go over well. :)
I cannot wait to see how this fiasco plays out on Saturday. ;) I am anticipating another verse in the "Assault on Fengarth's Tower" to be added to our merry song. Something like Brave Sir Robin's diddy from Monty Python's Holy Grail.
Write up follows:
It was after midnight and dozens…hundreds of townspeople arrived to help put out the fire that was consuming the two homes next to the party’s place. Buckets were drawn from the South Cistern and handed one after the other to the fires, eventually dousing them. Sir Walter and his own staff arrived on hand, helping as well. The guards spoke of their firsthand account of T’Nagrath’s attack and the group’s efforts in stopping it. Even Adeptus Bjorn showed but he stayed long enough to mutter, “I warned you all,” before departing.
It wasn’t until after 2 AM when the group got back to sleep – and that was only when they tacked up tarps from the yard over the busted window in the living room and the hole in the wall in the kitchen. The door had been broken in and was held on by a single hinge. There was no safe way to get up to sleep on the 2nd floor in our rooms so we camped out on the lower floor after stoking the fireplace and getting somewhat warm.
We awoke the next day because it was cold and noisy, not because we were rested. Groggy and tired, we hoisted Coruth’tae upstairs to go to Karis’ room where a rolled up rope ladder was stored. Fastening it to a secure part of the 2nd floor landing, he pushed it over the rail and the group tentatively went to their rooms and got their gear and what bits of value they wanted to take. From there it was a trip to the Blue and Dancing Minepick to get some breakfast.
While there they talked about what was going to happen next? The house needed to be fixed, as the cold air and weather was blowing through it. There was the unfortunate deaths of the 16 civilians slain by the errant Blessed Bolt of Thor (which the party was NOT going to claim responsibility on), as well as, according to the townsfolk, 5 guards killed and 3 more badly wounded. Killing T’Nagrath was going to be priority one. But we no longer had a Blessed Bolt of Thor – and electricity is needed to slay a Forest Troll with finality. A trip back to Cymbarton and the Mage’s District was in order.
We went from here to Slaine’s Manorhouse where we met with the Orihalcan Nobleman and half of his advisory council. There was thanks given back and forth, but the crux of the matter was Sir Walter wanted to commission the party as an adventuring group to kill the Troll. Some haggling occurred and the group settled on 1000 crowns and Sir Walter pays to have our house fixed. Sheriff Phozarn wanted to be a part of the expedition to slay the troll and there was some tension between him and Karis, but the others in the group decided it would be better to have a skilled swordsman with us to help take the troll down.
Returning home we outfitted ourselves, gathered food and drink for the horses, and planned a trip to Cymbarton to leave that very afternoon. We discussed plans and all agreed that we would go back to Fengarth’s Tower where we would kill the troll and NOTHING else! No exploring the tower, no treasure gathering – nothing. Didn’t want to have Sheriff Phozarn to be a part of anything else and we would take the Sheriff back as proof to the others that we took care of the troll and the matter is complete.
Sir Walter gave us half up front and according to Coruth’tae and Fabambus a Lightning Bolt scroll would be close to 1,000 crowns under normal circumstances – a kingly sum that we frankly did not have. So other ideas were thought on and we decided that originally Evian and her Shocking Grasp spell had been a good lower level deterrent to the troll – we should look into getting one of those.
We passed through Ponyboro where we stayed at the Rampant Griffon. A check up on the kobold women revealed that Lord Daernhorse had no place for them on his Demesne, but the Silverbough’s were happy to take them in. Currently they have a small place near the manorhouse and a plot that they work. They were happy to see the group but we spent little time with them.
Lord Ulric Wolverton paid the group a visit, asking if they had heard anything about his erstwhile son, Djohrgahd. He did request that when the time came and they did face him and defeat him, that the group would be decent enough to bring the body back home so he can bury him on the family plot.
We left from here and travelled to Cymbarton. Listened to the rules (no bows or xbows strung in town – weapons must remain sheathed – duels in public forbidden) and then went to the Adventuring Guild. There were some things to be done in town and the party discussed them at length before splitting up to take care of them. Things such as – getting a copy of Shocking Grasp and having it scribed in Coruth’tae’s spell book, buying the necessary raw materials to make our own alchemist lab, getting some of our esoteric and magical items identified, visiting the wheelwright to have sleight skids made for our wagon, and few other personal destinations.
From here we planned to leave Cymbarton and travel back to Orihalcus – should be back in town around the 8th. There has been sporadic snowfall so fall – with accumulation hovering around 6-8 inches accounting for new snow and current melt. But the group has suspicions that it won’t be like this for much longer. Eventually the trade roads do become impassable so we have to make it back to Orihalcus, take care of the troll at Fengarth’s, and then if we are hoping to go to Dargan’s one last time – would have to do it soon.
Yeah, sometimes the trip into the Deepdelve of Doom doesn't net the party a pile of coins thick enough to gag a dragon, and other times there are taxes, guild dues, training costs, armor and weapon upkeep, and reoutfitting costs to contend with that suck the players' coffers down. But when they party gets first hand knowledge of how to handle something and they decide on their own to ignore the single foremost clue on how to handle an issue - all for saving a pile of coins - you just know that it is not going to go over well.
They have faced off against T'Nagrath 3 times now. They know WHAT they have to do to kill him. But when faced with the daunting figure of 1,000 crowns, they opted to forego the Lightning Bolt spell and instead go for Shocking Grasp. The spell that does 1d8 + caster's level in damage. Forest trolls regenerate 20 hp/round, or only 1 hp/round from electricty. If taken down to below -10, they remain dormant for 2 hours until spontaneously regenerating around even the ashes of their burned up heart. Only a single slaying bolt of electricity into their chest can slay them. Read the operative word: Single. One. So even if they get him down to 0 HP and he passes out and they chop him into hamburger they need to do 10 hp of damage to the heart, and the 4th level mage casting Shocking Grasp is going to do 4 + random 1-8 or 5-12 hp of damage with a single bolt.
That means there is a 5/8 chance that they won't kill the troll. Even if they fire TWO Shocking Grasp's into the beast's heart - since all the texts they read and the sages they paid did say not only is electricty debilitating to these breed of trolls, but a single bolt of electricity would be needed to finish it off.
Of course, who is it that remembers this important detail? The player who was handling Zoltan. You know Zoltan? The dead thief? So there will be a player at the table with his new gnome character who is going to do his best not to metagame and know in the back of his mind - this is not going to go over well. :)
I cannot wait to see how this fiasco plays out on Saturday. ;) I am anticipating another verse in the "Assault on Fengarth's Tower" to be added to our merry song. Something like Brave Sir Robin's diddy from Monty Python's Holy Grail.
Write up follows:
It was after midnight and dozens…hundreds of townspeople arrived to help put out the fire that was consuming the two homes next to the party’s place. Buckets were drawn from the South Cistern and handed one after the other to the fires, eventually dousing them. Sir Walter and his own staff arrived on hand, helping as well. The guards spoke of their firsthand account of T’Nagrath’s attack and the group’s efforts in stopping it. Even Adeptus Bjorn showed but he stayed long enough to mutter, “I warned you all,” before departing.
It wasn’t until after 2 AM when the group got back to sleep – and that was only when they tacked up tarps from the yard over the busted window in the living room and the hole in the wall in the kitchen. The door had been broken in and was held on by a single hinge. There was no safe way to get up to sleep on the 2nd floor in our rooms so we camped out on the lower floor after stoking the fireplace and getting somewhat warm.
We awoke the next day because it was cold and noisy, not because we were rested. Groggy and tired, we hoisted Coruth’tae upstairs to go to Karis’ room where a rolled up rope ladder was stored. Fastening it to a secure part of the 2nd floor landing, he pushed it over the rail and the group tentatively went to their rooms and got their gear and what bits of value they wanted to take. From there it was a trip to the Blue and Dancing Minepick to get some breakfast.
While there they talked about what was going to happen next? The house needed to be fixed, as the cold air and weather was blowing through it. There was the unfortunate deaths of the 16 civilians slain by the errant Blessed Bolt of Thor (which the party was NOT going to claim responsibility on), as well as, according to the townsfolk, 5 guards killed and 3 more badly wounded. Killing T’Nagrath was going to be priority one. But we no longer had a Blessed Bolt of Thor – and electricity is needed to slay a Forest Troll with finality. A trip back to Cymbarton and the Mage’s District was in order.
We went from here to Slaine’s Manorhouse where we met with the Orihalcan Nobleman and half of his advisory council. There was thanks given back and forth, but the crux of the matter was Sir Walter wanted to commission the party as an adventuring group to kill the Troll. Some haggling occurred and the group settled on 1000 crowns and Sir Walter pays to have our house fixed. Sheriff Phozarn wanted to be a part of the expedition to slay the troll and there was some tension between him and Karis, but the others in the group decided it would be better to have a skilled swordsman with us to help take the troll down.
Returning home we outfitted ourselves, gathered food and drink for the horses, and planned a trip to Cymbarton to leave that very afternoon. We discussed plans and all agreed that we would go back to Fengarth’s Tower where we would kill the troll and NOTHING else! No exploring the tower, no treasure gathering – nothing. Didn’t want to have Sheriff Phozarn to be a part of anything else and we would take the Sheriff back as proof to the others that we took care of the troll and the matter is complete.
Sir Walter gave us half up front and according to Coruth’tae and Fabambus a Lightning Bolt scroll would be close to 1,000 crowns under normal circumstances – a kingly sum that we frankly did not have. So other ideas were thought on and we decided that originally Evian and her Shocking Grasp spell had been a good lower level deterrent to the troll – we should look into getting one of those.
We passed through Ponyboro where we stayed at the Rampant Griffon. A check up on the kobold women revealed that Lord Daernhorse had no place for them on his Demesne, but the Silverbough’s were happy to take them in. Currently they have a small place near the manorhouse and a plot that they work. They were happy to see the group but we spent little time with them.
Lord Ulric Wolverton paid the group a visit, asking if they had heard anything about his erstwhile son, Djohrgahd. He did request that when the time came and they did face him and defeat him, that the group would be decent enough to bring the body back home so he can bury him on the family plot.
We left from here and travelled to Cymbarton. Listened to the rules (no bows or xbows strung in town – weapons must remain sheathed – duels in public forbidden) and then went to the Adventuring Guild. There were some things to be done in town and the party discussed them at length before splitting up to take care of them. Things such as – getting a copy of Shocking Grasp and having it scribed in Coruth’tae’s spell book, buying the necessary raw materials to make our own alchemist lab, getting some of our esoteric and magical items identified, visiting the wheelwright to have sleight skids made for our wagon, and few other personal destinations.
From here we planned to leave Cymbarton and travel back to Orihalcus – should be back in town around the 8th. There has been sporadic snowfall so fall – with accumulation hovering around 6-8 inches accounting for new snow and current melt. But the group has suspicions that it won’t be like this for much longer. Eventually the trade roads do become impassable so we have to make it back to Orihalcus, take care of the troll at Fengarth’s, and then if we are hoping to go to Dargan’s one last time – would have to do it soon.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Meet 53, Adv 7, 1/10/09
When I write up scenarios to happen in the "future" of the game, I don't try to pigeon hole them into the lulls or gaps in the action - instead making them occur when they would. Life isn't scripted and sometimes there are times when we are bombarded with things one after another - the same goes for the characters.
I had made sure that they knew about the Moon Portal MONTHS ago (in game) and the limitations of it (7 minutes, up to 7 miles away, during the start of the full moon) - so there was no gapping in time I could have fudged. In the game world I use, I made the moon's cycle 30 days, the same time as the calender - 12 months, 360 days total year. So the Full Moon occurs every month at midnight on the 1st day of the month.
And we were waiting for the group to be together - Coruth'tae training in Cymbarton, 3 days away solid by fast moving caravan - he wrapped up his training on the 26th, left on the morning of the 27th - and got back to Orihalcus on the 30th at 2 in the afternoon. And when the math worked out I was laughing inside because they were talking about going to "take care of that damned troll once and for all" on the following morning - and I knew the troll was going to raid the town at midnight of the 1st!
So they faced T'Nagrath the Forest Troll - clad in their underwear and each person sporting 2 items only. And they thought he was just showing up to harvest living meat and rain havoc - but when he was bee-lining for THEIR house and they realized that he was being led - they all freaked out, knowing it was for the charm they took from the tower. And they did all they could to slow him down - 7 minutes was a hard line in time that the troll could not cross. Killing him would have been nice, but without armor or proper preparation - they were willing to settle for "seriously impede". And that they did.
Write up follows:
Karis went home to break the news to the kobold women after taking a brief detour to the stables to get the cart and two ponies ready. The other two members went off to the Blue and Dancing Minepick Inn to meet with Fabambus and better explain themselves to the gnome and learn about him and his skillset and abilities.
The kobolds were upset and didn’t want to go. Karis explained to them the order of command and the difficult position that they and their actions have put him and the rest of the Sundered Chains in. There was sadness and Ilva admitted that she didn’t want to be the cause of trouble. Eventual acceptance was achieved and they packed up their belongings getting themselves ready to go. Karis informed them that they would be staying with Lord Daernhorse and to treat him with what respect that they would the party. He told them they would be safe and with the bounty being established here, return to Orihalcus would be deadly for them.
He went with them to the stablery and with both his own letter to Lord Daernhorse and Sir Walter’s, there was some hugs goodbye and the three women left. From there, he went off to the Blue and Dancing Minepick to meet up with the rest of the party.
Detheron and Gwyn were sitting with Fabambus Rattletrap, the loquacious gnome waxing long and interestingly about his skills, the past adventuring party he had, some of the things he had done, artifacts recovered, and his wife Willamina. His former group had disbanded over 2 years ago and he has been home during that time – but the desire to further his own research on some magical theorem had him strapping back on his backpack and looking for a group searching for skilled help.
He spoke of Coruth’tae and the two of them and their similar yet decidedly different skills – and that the grey elf would not be long behind him supposedly wrapping up a few loose ends. Detheron was not…rude…this time, but he was definitely at odds with the gnome, unsure of what to make of the strange little fellow. Gwyn liked him. And then Karis came and the interview continued, with the half-ogre giving the green light and thumbs up.
The party talked about Dargan’s Folly and their soon to be eventual return, but for now they were going to be planning a trip to Fengarth’s Tower to take care of T’Nagrath the Forest Troll once and for all, and would do it after Coruth’tae came home. There were some purchases made around town and some restocking of supplies with repairs made to weaponry and armor where needed.
As for Coruth’tae, he had sold one of the jewelry pieces (the bracelet), but when faced with the prospect of selling the sapphire ring, he was told that it was a part of a set – as dwarven rings like this are made in matched pairs. He was offered 1250 for the one ring, but if he had the 2nd one, the jeweler would be willing to go so far as over 3000 crowns for the matched set. Coruth’tae knew the 2nd ring was magical, the dweomercraft upon it according to the guild diviners was one of protection and bolstering (+1 to AC and all saves) but to sell the matched set to the jeweler (who wouldn’t care about the enchantment – looking at it as ancillary) might not be in the party’s best interest. So he didn’t sell it, waiting to get back to the group and asking them their opinion on the matter.
As for the last 2 days he had in town, he spent it gambling. And when all was said and done, the house had taken the fine grey elf for almost 60 crowns. At least he tried!
It was almost 4 days by caravan before he arrived home, raining and soggy cold Spiritmonth the 30th about 2 in the afternoon. Money was returned to the group, split up, and a discussion followed concerning the magical ring and possibly selling it or keeping it and not getting the mark up value for the matched set. Coruth’tae was looking to keep it himself and Detheron donated it to him, but then a verbal altercation followed on the cost for getting the ring identified and who should pay for it and then cost of healing and before you knew it, druid and illusionist were bickering. It ended eventually but because the half-ogre more or less said to end it – not because it was resolved.
We talked about going to go to Fengarth’s Tower and we have an ace in the hole – Blessed bolt of Thor! The Forest troll needs to be slain by lightning – and what better? We were going to get a good night’s sleep and then visit Sir Walter and ask for dispensation to go and visit the tower and take care of the troll threat. We went to the Blue and Dancing Minepick and ate (already missing the kobold women and their skill at cooking and keeping the house in good repair), bid Fabambus good night and went home to sleep.
At the stroke of midnight, when the moon was at its fullest, a shaft of radiant moonlight struck town square and with a horrible blast and concussion of expanding air, T’Nagrath the troll portalled in with a roar of glee and shouts of joy. The militia on duty began crying “Troll! Troll! Too arms!!!” Crossbows clattered and pikes and spears were pressed but the 11’ tall beast turned aside what blows he could and hacked off arms from two of those arrayed against him.
With the alarm bells clanging the group awoke and hearing the not too distant sounds of battle, cries of “troll!” and T’Nagrath’s distinctive laugh, they ran for the door wearing only undergarments – a cold rain falling. Gwyn grabbed his crossbow and quiver of bolts, Detheron took Heimdall’s Bulwark and his holy symbol, Coruth’tae his spell component pouch and wand, and Karis his shield and sword. Fabambus, staying elsewhere opted to merely look out the window. J
The party hit the streets running, Coruth’tae and Detheron realizing that the troll must be using the Moon Portal as spoken about by Adeptus Bjorn. It will open a single portal up to 7 miles distance for a period of 7 minutes at the height of the full moon at the end of which time it will bring whoever went through it back with whatever they are carrying/holding. And the clock was already passing.
T’Nagrath was holding a darkwood staff and slammed the butt of it into the ground, launching a fireball from the end of it to crack under the feet of a 3 count of guards, immolating 2 of them and blasting the third skyward. More crossbows fired and hit the troll, its amazing regenerative powers keeping it moving and relatively unscathed. The group fanned out, Karis taking point as we threw AC to the wind and tried to close with the running troll – the same troll running in the dark street in our direction, the staff it was holding seeming to pull it forward.
A guard tried to intercept but T’Nagrath tore at the screaming man, ripping his arm free and laughing aloud. More missile weapon fired and screams for the Sheriff was growing. Townsfolk were huddling behind shutters and other guards were charging up the street from the main gates. And then we were there. Karis ran to intercept but the troll whistled past, slamming at his out stretched arm and ripping the underside of it wide open. And then it was past, the staff definitely pulling it along.
Detheron struggled to heal Karis and Coruth’tae summoned the illusion of a spinning saw blade again – the same one that felled the troll last time. T’Nagrath didn’t recognize the party seemingly during all this until that blade appeared than it roared “YOU!” and detoured in the grey elf’s direction. Karis slammed his weapon at the troll’s back, slowing it down and Gwyn used some of the magical impacting bolts we had to slow the troll down and knock him to his knees.
Snarling in anger, T’Nagrath forced himself to his feet and charged on PAST the group, angling for…their HOUSE!! He was racing with the staff before him – bent on reaching something. Detheron was worried that he was planning on blowing it up so he “quenched” the staff – and Coruth’tae who had seen the staff real up close announced it was a staff of power, capable of hurling fireballs and other spells – but can also be used to focus location spells.
The troll was “homing” in on the charm we had taken from it the last time we faced it – the same charm that was at our house and in Coruth’tae’s room. Crap. Hoping to stop the troll, Coruth’tae ran at it as fast as possible and using his own body, dove between the troll’s legs and tried to trip it! He was kicked and stomped on and although the troll didn’t fall, it was slowed and lost more precious time – time it NEEDED to get its goal!
Detheron caused a sleet storm to appear just in front of T’Nagrath between it and our house – a 40’ wide storm of driving freezing ice and rain. The troll was cursing and we assume it fell but could not see it in the swirling storm. Karis snarled and ran in and Gwyn charged closer. We guessed time was almost up – maybe 2 minutes left. And from the sounds it was inside our house now. Karis made a decision – running along the side of the storm he charged the side window and shield held in front of him leapt through the window, shattering the closed shutters and falling to the floor. The troll was just on the inside of the door and racing for the stairs.
Gwyn followed Karis’ charge and came through in better shape, seeing T’Nagrath making his way up the bottom stairs and making a real fast decision.
In our own home, he loaded up a Blessed Bolt of Thor, took aim at the troll 25’ feet away, and fired.
The power build echoed behind him and sparks shot down his arm, into the crossbow, blowing it to splinters and a blast of lighting screamed away – burning T’Nagrath’s legs to charred ruin as he LEAPT up the stairs to avoid a direct hit (made his save). The stroke of lightning tore through the stairs disintegrating the bottom 4, scored across the floor, consumed two of the main support beams, burned and set the house interior on fire, blew through the wall, across the space to the next home, arced throughout the home slaying all the people who lived there (3 adults, 4 children), slammed through the opposite wall and into a third home where it arced along killing most of those who lived there (6 adults, 3 children) before the roaring stroke of god-borne lightning came to an end.
T’Nagrath was mortally wounded and was not going to make his goal. He pointed his staff at the dwarf and half-ogre and tried to fireball them, but nothing happened! The fireball effects had been quenched! So angry it instead switched to lightning bolt and it arced out – hitting the dwarf glancingly but striking the half-ogre dead on – tossing Karis back OUT the window and into the alleyway!
Coruth’tae had dared to run through the sleet storm and saw the burning devastation in the house and the troll on the second floor. He screamed to Gwyn to “Stop him! Get the staff!!” With the clock running down to seconds Gwyn pulled out a single sharp edged crossbow bolt and ran for the crumbling stairs. He LEAPT! Clearing the missing bottom 4 and scrambled up the collapsing others fast as possible and then tackled the troll, one hand on the staff and pulling while his right hand slashed down at the braided cord wrapped around the staff and the troll’s wrist.
And he failed to cut it!
T’Nagrath became illuminated in some radiant moon light and grabbed the dwarf by the shoulder, growling, “I didn’t get my charm, but at least I’ll get a consolation prize!” And as the Moon Portal began to teleport the troll back to Fengarth’s Tower, Gwyn felt himself being taken along! He pulled and yanked and slashed with the crossbow bolt and broke free just before T’Nagrath “jumped” away with a bellowing cry of frustration.
Detheron used a fast Quench spell on our house, deadening the flames that were eating it, but the rest of the town had gathered together a bucket brigade to help try and put out the other two homes, Fabambus adding his own efforts to it.
And that’s where this game ended! At 12:08 PM on Deathmonth the 1st – 1 minute after T’Nagrath Moon Portalled away.
I had made sure that they knew about the Moon Portal MONTHS ago (in game) and the limitations of it (7 minutes, up to 7 miles away, during the start of the full moon) - so there was no gapping in time I could have fudged. In the game world I use, I made the moon's cycle 30 days, the same time as the calender - 12 months, 360 days total year. So the Full Moon occurs every month at midnight on the 1st day of the month.
And we were waiting for the group to be together - Coruth'tae training in Cymbarton, 3 days away solid by fast moving caravan - he wrapped up his training on the 26th, left on the morning of the 27th - and got back to Orihalcus on the 30th at 2 in the afternoon. And when the math worked out I was laughing inside because they were talking about going to "take care of that damned troll once and for all" on the following morning - and I knew the troll was going to raid the town at midnight of the 1st!
So they faced T'Nagrath the Forest Troll - clad in their underwear and each person sporting 2 items only. And they thought he was just showing up to harvest living meat and rain havoc - but when he was bee-lining for THEIR house and they realized that he was being led - they all freaked out, knowing it was for the charm they took from the tower. And they did all they could to slow him down - 7 minutes was a hard line in time that the troll could not cross. Killing him would have been nice, but without armor or proper preparation - they were willing to settle for "seriously impede". And that they did.
Write up follows:
Karis went home to break the news to the kobold women after taking a brief detour to the stables to get the cart and two ponies ready. The other two members went off to the Blue and Dancing Minepick Inn to meet with Fabambus and better explain themselves to the gnome and learn about him and his skillset and abilities.
The kobolds were upset and didn’t want to go. Karis explained to them the order of command and the difficult position that they and their actions have put him and the rest of the Sundered Chains in. There was sadness and Ilva admitted that she didn’t want to be the cause of trouble. Eventual acceptance was achieved and they packed up their belongings getting themselves ready to go. Karis informed them that they would be staying with Lord Daernhorse and to treat him with what respect that they would the party. He told them they would be safe and with the bounty being established here, return to Orihalcus would be deadly for them.
He went with them to the stablery and with both his own letter to Lord Daernhorse and Sir Walter’s, there was some hugs goodbye and the three women left. From there, he went off to the Blue and Dancing Minepick to meet up with the rest of the party.
Detheron and Gwyn were sitting with Fabambus Rattletrap, the loquacious gnome waxing long and interestingly about his skills, the past adventuring party he had, some of the things he had done, artifacts recovered, and his wife Willamina. His former group had disbanded over 2 years ago and he has been home during that time – but the desire to further his own research on some magical theorem had him strapping back on his backpack and looking for a group searching for skilled help.
He spoke of Coruth’tae and the two of them and their similar yet decidedly different skills – and that the grey elf would not be long behind him supposedly wrapping up a few loose ends. Detheron was not…rude…this time, but he was definitely at odds with the gnome, unsure of what to make of the strange little fellow. Gwyn liked him. And then Karis came and the interview continued, with the half-ogre giving the green light and thumbs up.
The party talked about Dargan’s Folly and their soon to be eventual return, but for now they were going to be planning a trip to Fengarth’s Tower to take care of T’Nagrath the Forest Troll once and for all, and would do it after Coruth’tae came home. There were some purchases made around town and some restocking of supplies with repairs made to weaponry and armor where needed.
As for Coruth’tae, he had sold one of the jewelry pieces (the bracelet), but when faced with the prospect of selling the sapphire ring, he was told that it was a part of a set – as dwarven rings like this are made in matched pairs. He was offered 1250 for the one ring, but if he had the 2nd one, the jeweler would be willing to go so far as over 3000 crowns for the matched set. Coruth’tae knew the 2nd ring was magical, the dweomercraft upon it according to the guild diviners was one of protection and bolstering (+1 to AC and all saves) but to sell the matched set to the jeweler (who wouldn’t care about the enchantment – looking at it as ancillary) might not be in the party’s best interest. So he didn’t sell it, waiting to get back to the group and asking them their opinion on the matter.
As for the last 2 days he had in town, he spent it gambling. And when all was said and done, the house had taken the fine grey elf for almost 60 crowns. At least he tried!
It was almost 4 days by caravan before he arrived home, raining and soggy cold Spiritmonth the 30th about 2 in the afternoon. Money was returned to the group, split up, and a discussion followed concerning the magical ring and possibly selling it or keeping it and not getting the mark up value for the matched set. Coruth’tae was looking to keep it himself and Detheron donated it to him, but then a verbal altercation followed on the cost for getting the ring identified and who should pay for it and then cost of healing and before you knew it, druid and illusionist were bickering. It ended eventually but because the half-ogre more or less said to end it – not because it was resolved.
We talked about going to go to Fengarth’s Tower and we have an ace in the hole – Blessed bolt of Thor! The Forest troll needs to be slain by lightning – and what better? We were going to get a good night’s sleep and then visit Sir Walter and ask for dispensation to go and visit the tower and take care of the troll threat. We went to the Blue and Dancing Minepick and ate (already missing the kobold women and their skill at cooking and keeping the house in good repair), bid Fabambus good night and went home to sleep.
At the stroke of midnight, when the moon was at its fullest, a shaft of radiant moonlight struck town square and with a horrible blast and concussion of expanding air, T’Nagrath the troll portalled in with a roar of glee and shouts of joy. The militia on duty began crying “Troll! Troll! Too arms!!!” Crossbows clattered and pikes and spears were pressed but the 11’ tall beast turned aside what blows he could and hacked off arms from two of those arrayed against him.
With the alarm bells clanging the group awoke and hearing the not too distant sounds of battle, cries of “troll!” and T’Nagrath’s distinctive laugh, they ran for the door wearing only undergarments – a cold rain falling. Gwyn grabbed his crossbow and quiver of bolts, Detheron took Heimdall’s Bulwark and his holy symbol, Coruth’tae his spell component pouch and wand, and Karis his shield and sword. Fabambus, staying elsewhere opted to merely look out the window. J
The party hit the streets running, Coruth’tae and Detheron realizing that the troll must be using the Moon Portal as spoken about by Adeptus Bjorn. It will open a single portal up to 7 miles distance for a period of 7 minutes at the height of the full moon at the end of which time it will bring whoever went through it back with whatever they are carrying/holding. And the clock was already passing.
T’Nagrath was holding a darkwood staff and slammed the butt of it into the ground, launching a fireball from the end of it to crack under the feet of a 3 count of guards, immolating 2 of them and blasting the third skyward. More crossbows fired and hit the troll, its amazing regenerative powers keeping it moving and relatively unscathed. The group fanned out, Karis taking point as we threw AC to the wind and tried to close with the running troll – the same troll running in the dark street in our direction, the staff it was holding seeming to pull it forward.
A guard tried to intercept but T’Nagrath tore at the screaming man, ripping his arm free and laughing aloud. More missile weapon fired and screams for the Sheriff was growing. Townsfolk were huddling behind shutters and other guards were charging up the street from the main gates. And then we were there. Karis ran to intercept but the troll whistled past, slamming at his out stretched arm and ripping the underside of it wide open. And then it was past, the staff definitely pulling it along.
Detheron struggled to heal Karis and Coruth’tae summoned the illusion of a spinning saw blade again – the same one that felled the troll last time. T’Nagrath didn’t recognize the party seemingly during all this until that blade appeared than it roared “YOU!” and detoured in the grey elf’s direction. Karis slammed his weapon at the troll’s back, slowing it down and Gwyn used some of the magical impacting bolts we had to slow the troll down and knock him to his knees.
Snarling in anger, T’Nagrath forced himself to his feet and charged on PAST the group, angling for…their HOUSE!! He was racing with the staff before him – bent on reaching something. Detheron was worried that he was planning on blowing it up so he “quenched” the staff – and Coruth’tae who had seen the staff real up close announced it was a staff of power, capable of hurling fireballs and other spells – but can also be used to focus location spells.
The troll was “homing” in on the charm we had taken from it the last time we faced it – the same charm that was at our house and in Coruth’tae’s room. Crap. Hoping to stop the troll, Coruth’tae ran at it as fast as possible and using his own body, dove between the troll’s legs and tried to trip it! He was kicked and stomped on and although the troll didn’t fall, it was slowed and lost more precious time – time it NEEDED to get its goal!
Detheron caused a sleet storm to appear just in front of T’Nagrath between it and our house – a 40’ wide storm of driving freezing ice and rain. The troll was cursing and we assume it fell but could not see it in the swirling storm. Karis snarled and ran in and Gwyn charged closer. We guessed time was almost up – maybe 2 minutes left. And from the sounds it was inside our house now. Karis made a decision – running along the side of the storm he charged the side window and shield held in front of him leapt through the window, shattering the closed shutters and falling to the floor. The troll was just on the inside of the door and racing for the stairs.
Gwyn followed Karis’ charge and came through in better shape, seeing T’Nagrath making his way up the bottom stairs and making a real fast decision.
In our own home, he loaded up a Blessed Bolt of Thor, took aim at the troll 25’ feet away, and fired.
The power build echoed behind him and sparks shot down his arm, into the crossbow, blowing it to splinters and a blast of lighting screamed away – burning T’Nagrath’s legs to charred ruin as he LEAPT up the stairs to avoid a direct hit (made his save). The stroke of lightning tore through the stairs disintegrating the bottom 4, scored across the floor, consumed two of the main support beams, burned and set the house interior on fire, blew through the wall, across the space to the next home, arced throughout the home slaying all the people who lived there (3 adults, 4 children), slammed through the opposite wall and into a third home where it arced along killing most of those who lived there (6 adults, 3 children) before the roaring stroke of god-borne lightning came to an end.
T’Nagrath was mortally wounded and was not going to make his goal. He pointed his staff at the dwarf and half-ogre and tried to fireball them, but nothing happened! The fireball effects had been quenched! So angry it instead switched to lightning bolt and it arced out – hitting the dwarf glancingly but striking the half-ogre dead on – tossing Karis back OUT the window and into the alleyway!
Coruth’tae had dared to run through the sleet storm and saw the burning devastation in the house and the troll on the second floor. He screamed to Gwyn to “Stop him! Get the staff!!” With the clock running down to seconds Gwyn pulled out a single sharp edged crossbow bolt and ran for the crumbling stairs. He LEAPT! Clearing the missing bottom 4 and scrambled up the collapsing others fast as possible and then tackled the troll, one hand on the staff and pulling while his right hand slashed down at the braided cord wrapped around the staff and the troll’s wrist.
And he failed to cut it!
T’Nagrath became illuminated in some radiant moon light and grabbed the dwarf by the shoulder, growling, “I didn’t get my charm, but at least I’ll get a consolation prize!” And as the Moon Portal began to teleport the troll back to Fengarth’s Tower, Gwyn felt himself being taken along! He pulled and yanked and slashed with the crossbow bolt and broke free just before T’Nagrath “jumped” away with a bellowing cry of frustration.
Detheron used a fast Quench spell on our house, deadening the flames that were eating it, but the rest of the town had gathered together a bucket brigade to help try and put out the other two homes, Fabambus adding his own efforts to it.
And that’s where this game ended! At 12:08 PM on Deathmonth the 1st – 1 minute after T’Nagrath Moon Portalled away.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Meet 52, Adv 7, 1/3/09
There was a time when I ran almost exclusively town adventures. There is a city in my sandbox called Darkwaters, and the local chatter across the known kingdom is "Adventure oftentimes begins and ends in Darkwaters." Its a big, sprawling, huge, megalopolis with interfaction fighting and intrigue and multiple levels of whatever from top to bottom. Its the type of city where you can go to visit and if you are not careful, wind up down some tenement row of housing with a knife in your ear and someone rummaging around your pouch.
This group is not like that. There is a decided split in the group's interest - ranging between intrigue and story versus going out and whacking stuff with weapons and spells. So some of my nights I find that we cater to some members at the table, and other nights to the others. Since we had spent some 10 plus sessions dungeon crawling, I wanted the party to have some down time, train, sell off some loot, and have some domestic interests capture their attention.
It went over like a lead balloon. Chuckle. Karis and Sheriff Phozarn have learned to despise one another and regardless of what my initial plan was for the party, they have taken control of their destiny and for that I am happy - letting the world be organic around them and their actions. Some little clues I do give (such as the disinterested kobold Ilva and her late night trips out and long delays in returning - only Zoltan noted it, the rest of the party let it go by the wayside), and others I bring up a few times (bugbears constantly around the town, peaceful trading, and their singular immeasurable aid to the greengrocer coalition), and others I just spring out when the mood hits me.
I know that half my party had a lot of fun this night - and when you have 5 or 6 distinct people and personalities around the table, a smart DM realizes that you can't please all of the people all of the time.
Write up follows:
The group rested that night, safe at home but noting the absence of their missing and fallen companions. During the next day, there was a noticeable shift in the guards’ attitude to Karis since we had been here almost a month earlier. They were still a bit standoffish, but had definitely warmed up to him. Except for the Sheriff Phozarn. There was still bad blood between the two of them and it seemed that unless something changed, it would remain as such for some time.
We spent many days going through the dwarven equipment we had taken from the city: jewelry and items of interest. Selling much of it to whoever we could in town. From that, we split up the funds as well as accorded a 10% portion to Sir Walter for the Adventuring Guild. There were two pieces of jewelry that we could not sell in town and Coruth’tae offered to take it with him to Cymbarton to sell there while he was training at the Tower Arcane, bringing the funds home with him at that time.
We had Coruth’tae sign the adventuring charter, and also gave him permission to recruit anyone with either dungeoneering or magical skill while in the city, and then send them back to Orihalcus.
Meanwhile, Detheron and Gwyn spent time training under Solkissa and Marzen Copperworks respectively, achieving 6th level for each of them – bringing our compliment and party to: 1) Karis, half Ogre 4th level Cavalier/2nd level priest to Tyr, 2) Detheron, human 6th level Druid to Frey, 3) Gwynhwyfar, dwarven 6th level Fighter, and 4) Coruth’tae, Grey Elven 4th level Illusionist.
The weather grew colder and the last weeks of autumn were upon us, winter already beginning to grip the land. Karis, being the one individual with some free time, afforded himself and his skills to Sir Walter, burning away more time of his bondsmanship. There was only some work to be done, most of it having already come to a close. So Karis was given to work down at the copper mines, where the slag and dross from the caverns was taken out and then needed to be graded smooth and away from the city’s base. It was hard and menial labor, but it only ate up about 6 hours of his day and his great strength and efforts were appreciated.
After a few weeks, the half-ogre was approached by Sheriff Phozarn who asked for Karis to come with him. Sir Walter had suggested the xenophobic Sheriff approach Karis to help him to smooth over a potential hot spot of activity taking place at the city’s base near the Greengrocer’s Coalition. It seems that the Drywood Bugbear Clan that had been trading peacefully with Orihalcus is looking to winter in some of the Coalition’s dwellings close to the city – and Frau Gail has given them her permission.
Sir Walter thinks it is a good idea but the Sheriff does not, and Karis was asked to come as a representative to help make sure that Altern Lamatous understands the limitations this close to the city and that there would be no issues or bad blood.
The meeting was difficult at best, Sheriff Phozarn openly rude to Karis and disparaging to the bugbear leader. There were many words back and forth and Altern Lamatous was understanding of the rules regarding the city, but mostly he wanted his people to be safe and warm and he and Frau Gail have been engaging in an affair with one another. Admittedly it was a bombshell to hear, and the Altern didn’t seem to grasp the idea of keeping that sort of thing a secret as bugbears are rather open about such issues, but the Sheriff was incensed – and when he approached (or had his men do it) Frau Gail, he was rebuffed and told to mind his own business.
Altern Lamatous did mention that there was another reason – K’Tharkian kobolds had been seen in the area. The Sheriff discounted it, saying that none of his people had seen any such thing, but the bugbear was adamant that there were kobolds out there and that the Sheriff’s men were probably not up to the task of finding them.
Then it was over and Karis and Phozarn went back to the lift where Karis told the Sheriff he was a piece of crap and if you don’t like me, kill me, or leave me alone. Phozarn and the half-ogre squared off but nothing happened and Karis eventually went to Sir Walter and told him what had happened. Slaine and Adeptus Bjorn were having some sort of small party and Karis was told to leave and come back tomorrow.
He arrived home where he was greeted to the kobold women in some sort of confrontation on the floor of the living room, Ilva being sat upon by the other two, hysterically sobbing and her clothes a mess. They all jumped up fast and Ilva ran into her room, slamming the door closed.
While Karis was getting the news from the other two, Detheron and Gwyn came home and the three of them were treated to a load of miserable news.
Ilva was pregnant.
2 months pregnant, the baby due in 3 more. She had apparently met some kobold out in the fields while she was working for the Coalition and he seduced her and she met him half a dozen times and got pregnant. But she remained loyal to the Sundered Chains and when pressed to give up information about Orihalcus or the people or the party, Ilva refused and the other kobold has not come back for 4-5 weeks.
The group decided that this information had to be told to Sir Walter and soon – but the timing of it could not be any worse. Hiding the problem was not an option either, neither was ignoring it. This would be very bad. Kobolds nearby. Phozarn and his men are proven wrong. The kobold women were the party’s responsibility, and one of them was pregnant. What did she tell them? Anything? What?
At this point, the gnome adventurer that Coruth’tae hired in Cymbarton arrived in town and came to present himself to the Sundered Chains. The party was just spot on with being unable to treat a new recruit with respect and in the space of 10 minutes, Fabambus left to go back to the Blue and Dancing Minepick Inn to contemplate the 5 day slow journey he took coming here and the strange group of people he had just met.
The next morning the party went to Sir Walter’s Manorhouse where they went to the befuddled lord. He was obviously in his cups and informed the group that he had just met with Frau Gail, and Sheriff Phozarn, and with Karis’ own report from yesterday, had a good idea on what happened. He liked the party and the bugbears, but the strain of the rule and the expanding city and growing responsibilities was taking its tolls on him. He had a naked blade in his hand and spun it slowly while the party told him about the kobolds and the pregnancy and ALL sorts of wonderful news.
Sir Slaine was adamant that the kobold women were to be removed from the city, immediately. He was contemplating dissolving the party’s bondsmanship and declaring them outlaws as well. He accepted the party “donating” a large pile of coins (300 crowns) to help set up a fund for the bounty that Sir Slaine was going to enact the following day – 10 silver nobles for each pair of kobold ears. The way he explained it, every bounty hunter, ranger, manjake, bushbeater, and bullyblade from here to Seneshia would make their way to Orihalcus bringing trade, coin, and skills to hunt down and root out what K’Tharkian kobolds might be in the area, local or distant.
Our own kobold women would be given one of the party’s carts and a horse, and sent to Ponyboro with a letter from them and Sir Walter – where Lord Artis Daernhorse would find them a place to stay and gainful employment there – safely away from Orihalcus, any bounty hunter, any kobolds in the area, and mostly any temptation to seek them out.
This discussion took some time and Sir Walter asked Gwyn honestly what he thought of his decision, and the pragmatic dwarf replied after eyeing the nobleman’s sword, “To be honest with you Sir, if it was me, I’d have probably killed Karis outright for bringing me this news. No offense Karis.” Chuckle.
We left to make what arrangements were necessary to get the kobold women out of town and when Karis asked Detheron who was going to go right to Solkissa for more training if he wanted to say goodbye to them, the druid sneered and said, “I don’t give a shit. Fuck them.” You can tell he was real torn up over the entire affair (sarcasm).
And we ended it here. It’s Spirit month the 26th and we are going to get the kobold women geared up and safely away, meet with Fabambus properly and talk to the gnome about the group and where we were going to go next (There was talk of back to Fengarth’s Tower as well as Dargan’s Folley), possibly recruit in town people to come back to Dargan’s Folley to help us clear it better, and see what we can do about getting geared up for the excursion. Coruth’tae is due back in 2-3 days and he should have sold the two pieces of jewelry in Cymbarton, which would net the party some much needed funds.
This group is not like that. There is a decided split in the group's interest - ranging between intrigue and story versus going out and whacking stuff with weapons and spells. So some of my nights I find that we cater to some members at the table, and other nights to the others. Since we had spent some 10 plus sessions dungeon crawling, I wanted the party to have some down time, train, sell off some loot, and have some domestic interests capture their attention.
It went over like a lead balloon. Chuckle. Karis and Sheriff Phozarn have learned to despise one another and regardless of what my initial plan was for the party, they have taken control of their destiny and for that I am happy - letting the world be organic around them and their actions. Some little clues I do give (such as the disinterested kobold Ilva and her late night trips out and long delays in returning - only Zoltan noted it, the rest of the party let it go by the wayside), and others I bring up a few times (bugbears constantly around the town, peaceful trading, and their singular immeasurable aid to the greengrocer coalition), and others I just spring out when the mood hits me.
I know that half my party had a lot of fun this night - and when you have 5 or 6 distinct people and personalities around the table, a smart DM realizes that you can't please all of the people all of the time.
Write up follows:
The group rested that night, safe at home but noting the absence of their missing and fallen companions. During the next day, there was a noticeable shift in the guards’ attitude to Karis since we had been here almost a month earlier. They were still a bit standoffish, but had definitely warmed up to him. Except for the Sheriff Phozarn. There was still bad blood between the two of them and it seemed that unless something changed, it would remain as such for some time.
We spent many days going through the dwarven equipment we had taken from the city: jewelry and items of interest. Selling much of it to whoever we could in town. From that, we split up the funds as well as accorded a 10% portion to Sir Walter for the Adventuring Guild. There were two pieces of jewelry that we could not sell in town and Coruth’tae offered to take it with him to Cymbarton to sell there while he was training at the Tower Arcane, bringing the funds home with him at that time.
We had Coruth’tae sign the adventuring charter, and also gave him permission to recruit anyone with either dungeoneering or magical skill while in the city, and then send them back to Orihalcus.
Meanwhile, Detheron and Gwyn spent time training under Solkissa and Marzen Copperworks respectively, achieving 6th level for each of them – bringing our compliment and party to: 1) Karis, half Ogre 4th level Cavalier/2nd level priest to Tyr, 2) Detheron, human 6th level Druid to Frey, 3) Gwynhwyfar, dwarven 6th level Fighter, and 4) Coruth’tae, Grey Elven 4th level Illusionist.
The weather grew colder and the last weeks of autumn were upon us, winter already beginning to grip the land. Karis, being the one individual with some free time, afforded himself and his skills to Sir Walter, burning away more time of his bondsmanship. There was only some work to be done, most of it having already come to a close. So Karis was given to work down at the copper mines, where the slag and dross from the caverns was taken out and then needed to be graded smooth and away from the city’s base. It was hard and menial labor, but it only ate up about 6 hours of his day and his great strength and efforts were appreciated.
After a few weeks, the half-ogre was approached by Sheriff Phozarn who asked for Karis to come with him. Sir Walter had suggested the xenophobic Sheriff approach Karis to help him to smooth over a potential hot spot of activity taking place at the city’s base near the Greengrocer’s Coalition. It seems that the Drywood Bugbear Clan that had been trading peacefully with Orihalcus is looking to winter in some of the Coalition’s dwellings close to the city – and Frau Gail has given them her permission.
Sir Walter thinks it is a good idea but the Sheriff does not, and Karis was asked to come as a representative to help make sure that Altern Lamatous understands the limitations this close to the city and that there would be no issues or bad blood.
The meeting was difficult at best, Sheriff Phozarn openly rude to Karis and disparaging to the bugbear leader. There were many words back and forth and Altern Lamatous was understanding of the rules regarding the city, but mostly he wanted his people to be safe and warm and he and Frau Gail have been engaging in an affair with one another. Admittedly it was a bombshell to hear, and the Altern didn’t seem to grasp the idea of keeping that sort of thing a secret as bugbears are rather open about such issues, but the Sheriff was incensed – and when he approached (or had his men do it) Frau Gail, he was rebuffed and told to mind his own business.
Altern Lamatous did mention that there was another reason – K’Tharkian kobolds had been seen in the area. The Sheriff discounted it, saying that none of his people had seen any such thing, but the bugbear was adamant that there were kobolds out there and that the Sheriff’s men were probably not up to the task of finding them.
Then it was over and Karis and Phozarn went back to the lift where Karis told the Sheriff he was a piece of crap and if you don’t like me, kill me, or leave me alone. Phozarn and the half-ogre squared off but nothing happened and Karis eventually went to Sir Walter and told him what had happened. Slaine and Adeptus Bjorn were having some sort of small party and Karis was told to leave and come back tomorrow.
He arrived home where he was greeted to the kobold women in some sort of confrontation on the floor of the living room, Ilva being sat upon by the other two, hysterically sobbing and her clothes a mess. They all jumped up fast and Ilva ran into her room, slamming the door closed.
While Karis was getting the news from the other two, Detheron and Gwyn came home and the three of them were treated to a load of miserable news.
Ilva was pregnant.
2 months pregnant, the baby due in 3 more. She had apparently met some kobold out in the fields while she was working for the Coalition and he seduced her and she met him half a dozen times and got pregnant. But she remained loyal to the Sundered Chains and when pressed to give up information about Orihalcus or the people or the party, Ilva refused and the other kobold has not come back for 4-5 weeks.
The group decided that this information had to be told to Sir Walter and soon – but the timing of it could not be any worse. Hiding the problem was not an option either, neither was ignoring it. This would be very bad. Kobolds nearby. Phozarn and his men are proven wrong. The kobold women were the party’s responsibility, and one of them was pregnant. What did she tell them? Anything? What?
At this point, the gnome adventurer that Coruth’tae hired in Cymbarton arrived in town and came to present himself to the Sundered Chains. The party was just spot on with being unable to treat a new recruit with respect and in the space of 10 minutes, Fabambus left to go back to the Blue and Dancing Minepick Inn to contemplate the 5 day slow journey he took coming here and the strange group of people he had just met.
The next morning the party went to Sir Walter’s Manorhouse where they went to the befuddled lord. He was obviously in his cups and informed the group that he had just met with Frau Gail, and Sheriff Phozarn, and with Karis’ own report from yesterday, had a good idea on what happened. He liked the party and the bugbears, but the strain of the rule and the expanding city and growing responsibilities was taking its tolls on him. He had a naked blade in his hand and spun it slowly while the party told him about the kobolds and the pregnancy and ALL sorts of wonderful news.
Sir Slaine was adamant that the kobold women were to be removed from the city, immediately. He was contemplating dissolving the party’s bondsmanship and declaring them outlaws as well. He accepted the party “donating” a large pile of coins (300 crowns) to help set up a fund for the bounty that Sir Slaine was going to enact the following day – 10 silver nobles for each pair of kobold ears. The way he explained it, every bounty hunter, ranger, manjake, bushbeater, and bullyblade from here to Seneshia would make their way to Orihalcus bringing trade, coin, and skills to hunt down and root out what K’Tharkian kobolds might be in the area, local or distant.
Our own kobold women would be given one of the party’s carts and a horse, and sent to Ponyboro with a letter from them and Sir Walter – where Lord Artis Daernhorse would find them a place to stay and gainful employment there – safely away from Orihalcus, any bounty hunter, any kobolds in the area, and mostly any temptation to seek them out.
This discussion took some time and Sir Walter asked Gwyn honestly what he thought of his decision, and the pragmatic dwarf replied after eyeing the nobleman’s sword, “To be honest with you Sir, if it was me, I’d have probably killed Karis outright for bringing me this news. No offense Karis.” Chuckle.
We left to make what arrangements were necessary to get the kobold women out of town and when Karis asked Detheron who was going to go right to Solkissa for more training if he wanted to say goodbye to them, the druid sneered and said, “I don’t give a shit. Fuck them.” You can tell he was real torn up over the entire affair (sarcasm).
And we ended it here. It’s Spirit month the 26th and we are going to get the kobold women geared up and safely away, meet with Fabambus properly and talk to the gnome about the group and where we were going to go next (There was talk of back to Fengarth’s Tower as well as Dargan’s Folley), possibly recruit in town people to come back to Dargan’s Folley to help us clear it better, and see what we can do about getting geared up for the excursion. Coruth’tae is due back in 2-3 days and he should have sold the two pieces of jewelry in Cymbarton, which would net the party some much needed funds.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Meet 51, Adv 6, 12/20/08
This was the end of the adventure for the party, but not necessarily the end that had been expected. They had lost one of their members and failed to find the treasure room of Sir Dargan. Also the key that would facilitate the finding and opening of the treasure vault was missing, lost with the gypsy thief.
As a DM you don't want to change things around to either support the party (as it makes them feel more like spectators than players) or the monsters (as it makes them feel put upon unfairly). Escpae from the mausoleum was going to be under their own skill, thoughts, and abilities - and the monsters on the other side were going to behave accordingly for the situation at hand.
One of my experienced players (Zoltan the thief incidentally) commented that this group has a habit of getting ourselves cornered (the great privy battle in Fulgore Keep and the pitched combat against the Castellan in the same place) and that as we go against bigger and stronger foes, we should take better care not to leave ourselves in places where there is no way out.
So they fought their way free, lost Amal the orcish fighter in the process, almost lost Smokey the bear, and could not find out what happened to Zoltan.
But they are alive (those that are left) and have a much better idea what awaits them in the dark places of the earth. And that is going to give them what edge they need when they reequip themsleves and come back.
Write up follows:
The party rested as well as they could, silent and pensive in the dim light provided by their dwindling oil supplies and torches. Their food stores grew weaker while Detheron and Karis tended to the wounded amongst the group. Two full days passed and we waited quietly. Waited and waited. No one came, no one entered…and Zoltan never came back.
During that time they discussed many plans on escape, and discarded them just as swiftly. We had no idea what was outside that door, but if it was a return of the gnolls and their shocker lizard mounts, we would be facing some sort of pitched battle.
We broke our goals down into small pieces and agreed on them. We would open the door. Run as fast as we could if possible for the nearest bridge and over it. Then if time allowed, detour to the Temple of Odin to see if Zoltan was there. If no time allowed, run across the entirety of Wodenvarelse and for the stairs up to and eventually the surface.
After Detheron gave his ok that Smokey and himself were no longer suffering any ill effects from their near death experiences we geared up ourselves and decided on tactics. Coruth’tae would make an illusion of the door being closed, allowing Karis to open the door and peek out and not alert anyone in the hall. Gwyn would be placed square on with the exit, a blessed bolt of Odin loaded and ready in our last available crossbow. Amal would take the other door. Detheron, Smoky and Fodder would be ready to support or run as the situation called for.
The spell was cast and Karis tried to open the door – but it was CHAINED shut from the other side! He couldn’t get it open enough for us to see out there. Coruth’tae used a knock spell to open the lock from the other side of the door and Karis shook the doors enough until the chains loosened and he could “hear” and see through the illusion.
And there were gnolls. Lots of them. At least 8, most likely twice that number.
Karis would not be able to open the door alone. Amal would have to help him, so the plan was altered. Also, the templar told Gwyn to hold his shot until the half-ogre could entice enough of the gnolls to group up into a line so the Blessed Bolt could be most effective.
Karis and Amal shook and bashed and banged and wrenched and tugged on the doors, their combined monstrous strength enough to make the lock and chains stretch enough off the handles so that the weakest links broke free and the doors boomed open.
And in the intervening time that had passed, the gnolls had drawn themselves up ready; a fan two deep of 9 mounted gnolls armed with ranseurs but holding windlass cranked crossbows at the ready, two more in reserves beyond them, and a 4 count unmounted and guarding the area near the bridge. Karis roared in front of them at the double door entrance, shouting “Sakath! You yellow bow-legged bastard! Come out and fight us!”
And the gnolls fired at the half ogre in response. He threw himself aside, struggling to avoid being hit, using the doors as a shield and getting shot at least twice by the heavy bolts. He screamed at Gwyn to “FIRE! FIRE THE DAMNED BOLT!” The dwarf squeezed the trigger and there was a rising power behind him, swarmed down his frame, into the crossbow, blowing it apart as the bolt shot free and became a sonic blast of black energy screeching like a thousand ravens. It tore through two of the mounted gnolls, killing them instantly, blasting their mounts to ruined red meat, and then continued on until it shredded one of the standing gnolls further back – the thunderous echo deafening everyone briefly.
Coruth’tae cast a spell and turned himself invisible. Amal sucked down one of his potion bottles and charged out the door, his shield held in front of him, battered his way into one of the mounted gnolls and bullrushed him off. The two of them rolled about the ground with axes flashing and fists pumping. Karis took up front position at the doorway, called on Tyr for a “Blessing in this time of need!” and half of the gnolls hung back, reloading their crossbows. Some of them ran forward and engaged the half ogre – the shocker lizards blasting small bolts of lightning at the half ogre and Amal. Karis was hurt from the bolts, but Amal was unscathed! The potion he had drunk was Tempestskin, and would make him immune to smaller electrical damage for a time.
Smoky was ordered forward and the bear and Karis plied sword and claw against the lead gnolls. Fodder was held back and Coruth’tae, invisible and hopefully quiet, snuck out of the room and hugged the wall to the right on the way to the bridge. Gwyn drew “Blaze”, the battleaxe flaring to life, and joined the battle.
The reek of lizards was strong and Karis chanced to drink his own Tempestskin potion, the party hoping to carve a way through the fight and press of gnolls. Amal rose to his feet and ignoring more shocks, cried for the party to “Run for the bridge!” as he charged on. One of the gnolls misfired his crossbow and shot his own mount in the back of the head, maddening it and causing the lizard to dump him off as it ran away. More bolts were shot and the templar blocked them with his shield where able to.
There was butchery work to be done and the group did their fair share, but gnolls are not goblins and they did not go down without a struggle, a fight, or dishing out their own damage as well. Two of the gnolls attempted to block Amal, but the orc was able to take one of them down, howling in bloodlust at the other as it attempted to skewer him. The mage hung to the side, walking slow and hoping to avoid being spotted.
The lizards near Karis were enticed to bite the half-ogre after the gnolls realized their shocking blasts were ineffective. He plied the area around him with sword and shield, taking on two gnolls if possible. A knot of three gnolls stayed back and kept up a steady stream of crossbow firing. Detheron pointed at them and called out to Frey, summoning an animal to aid him – and a 14’ crocodile materialized out of nowhere, attacking one of the gnolls who was VERY surprised!
A wildly lucky hit with a ranseur struck Karis in the underside of his right arm, slicing through the gap in the chainmail and slamming through his bicep hard enough to cause a critical wound. His blows weakened and his strength hurt, he grimaced his teeth and returned what attacks he could.
Amal gave the last standing orc a terrific kick and shouted “the bridge is clear” as he tried to race across it. The last mounted gnoll in reserve kicked his mount into motion, charged across the open area, and struck the orcish fighter on the side. The blow was heavy and Amal tried to roll with it, but he was too close to the edge of the bridge and he slipped near the side, wobbling and hanging onto the ranseur inside his gut like a lifeline. The gnoll originally kicked to get past rose to its feet and whipped its morning star at the orc, striking him and Amal fell over the bridge and down the Chasm.
1,100 feet down.
Coruth’tae looked over the side of the Chasm until Amal was lost to sight and hunkered low, invisible and hoping that no one would see him this close to the bridge. One of the gnolls raised an alarm gong, ready to strike it, when the elven mage decided he couldn’t let that happen. He withdrew his shadowwand and activated it – a blast of dark light tearing into the gnoll and stopping him from striking the alarm. But he was no longer invisible. And he had one hurt and one healthy gnoll near him and angry. Very angry.
The party redoubled their efforts. Detheron swung Heimdall’s Bulwark at Karis, healing the ogre of some of his wounds, but he was taking more every step. Fodder ran to help the crocodile in polishing off the gnolls on the left flank. Smoky was taking some hurts. But the gnolls and their lizard mounts were dying. The party was about ready to break free.
Then there was a “whoosh” and a dark skinned bald dwarf, floating 30’ in the air appeared and he held his hands out shouting, “IN VAS FLAM GRAV POR!!” And a ball of fire streaked away and detonated right under the party’s feet. Gwyn and Smoky took the brunt of the blast, Karis and Detheron not as much. The bear and the dwarf were very hurt and wobbling about in pain.
Gwyn struck out with Blaze again and again until the gnoll on the right flank finally died. Then his chest heaving and his hit points in the single digits, he withdrew his only potion of “extra-healing” and drank it down – the cool blue liquid returning some of his strength. Bolstered once more, he took his axe and started running for the bridge and the beleaguered illusionist.
Karis whirled about, trying to take down the gnoll nearby, an unridden shocker lizard gnawing on his leg. Smokey staggered and swung and tore and ripped and roared, but the great bear was bleeding badly. Coruth’tae managed to shout out a quick spell before the gnolls hit him, a scintillating “shield” spell coalescing in front of him just in time.
The flying dwarf called out another spell and a blast of energy washed out – hitting Karis’s sword – shattering the weapon! Karis screamed in frustration and dropped his hilt, tugging Kysoth’s Bludgeon from his belt. The elven illusionist was hit hard, even through the spell, a morning star slamming into his face and dropping him IMMEDIATELY to 1 hit point! Gwyn arrived in time and took on the two gnolls from behind as the elf blasted the shadowwand at the wounded one again, killing it.
Smokey was struck and the great bear fell over groaning and unable to fight. Karis told Detheron to go! Run! Get out of here! But the druid refused to abandon his friend or his animal companion. He healed Karis once more and then tried to make his way to the fallen bear.
The flying dwarf pointed at Gwyn who was battleaxing the last gnoll and a forceful “push” spell struck him, shoving him near the edge of the Chasm! Gwyn dug in his feet and turned and twisted and strained and did NOT go over the edge, instead spinning the gnoll he was fighting to the side and sending it down the deep ravine! Coruth’tae and Gwyn then began to run and run hard and fast.
Detheron called out to Frey and shrunk Smokey down to half size and 1/4th weight, allowing Karis to lift the badly wounded ursine. And they had to because from the darkness behind them, was the call and shout and screams of gnolls. Lots of gnolls.
They were running out of time and they had to go. But when they turned towards the bridge and attempted to run for it, the dark dwarf pointed to the area in front of them and screamed out a spell – and a wall of fire appeared, 10’ high and 80’ long! Trapped!
The druid was furious. He slammed his hand into the ground and fired off a powerful “Quench” spell and the center portion of the ensorcelled wall wavered, flickered, and died in a gap 20’ wide. Fodder, Deth, Karis and Smokey charged through and ran on while the flying dwarf cursed them and shouted. He tried to “push” Karis off the bridge but the mighty half ogre was too strong and ran on.
The pursuing gnolls were behind, close behind. The party paused long enough for Detheron to get a quick healing into Smokey to stabilize the dying bear, but then they were off – some hundred feet or so separating them from their pursuers. Gwyn and Coruth’tae were far ahead and they ran on until they hit the stairs out of the great hall and ran up them, hearts hammering and chests pounding.
For a brief moment Karis mused about going to the Temple of Odin and seeing if Zoltan was there but it was discarded and he ran instead, thrown missile weapons clattering around behind him.
The party ran on, up the stairs, onward and onward. Eventually the sound of the gnoll pursuers faded and was left behind. At the top of the stairs we threw the last lever and dropped the bars and then wearily picked our way out of the Folly and to the surface above. We shut the door, the Lyreth Ward re-enacting and the party rested. Long and deep.
We waited a day and a half – Speaking with Goloriana, discussing what we had seen, and talking about Zoltan and his still not emergence. Finally we could wait no longer. We loaded up the wagons and on Earthmonth the 29th and began the long ride back. It was 3 days to Ponyboro and then we headed towards Orihalcus – another day and a half – making the gates to the copper mining city on Spiritmonth the 3rd, 1:00 in the afternoon – 17 days after we had left.
The guards let us pass, giving Karis a hard look but inquiring on the missing party members. They were saddened to hear that Zoltan had been lost in the Folly and hoped for his eventual return. It was with bitter ruminations that we made our way at long last to our home. The key that we had did not work and the lock had been changed. The kobold women were within and were enticed to let us in.
We learned that a week ago or so, someone had gotten a copy of the house key and attempted to sneak in, but the 3 kobold women used knives, claws, and teeth to drive them away. Sheriff Phozarn had the lock changed and the guards were rotated.
We unloaded all our belongings, Gwyn took the steeds and wagons to the stables. Karis went to see Sir Walter, eventually getting audience with him and Adeptus Bjorn. He talked about our journey and missing companions (Zoltan and Amal), learned about the attempted thievery at the party’s home, there had also been an attempted break in at Sir Walter’s Manor house and the culprit, a dwarven thief from the southern barony, had been tried and hung, and finally that Kalt Slaine had left Orihalcus and was back with his father in Principia.
Karis mentioned that he would be bringing the party’s 10% share for the guild here tomorrow and Adeptus Bjorn brought up Fengarth’s Tower again and the troll T’Nagrath there.
As a DM you don't want to change things around to either support the party (as it makes them feel more like spectators than players) or the monsters (as it makes them feel put upon unfairly). Escpae from the mausoleum was going to be under their own skill, thoughts, and abilities - and the monsters on the other side were going to behave accordingly for the situation at hand.
One of my experienced players (Zoltan the thief incidentally) commented that this group has a habit of getting ourselves cornered (the great privy battle in Fulgore Keep and the pitched combat against the Castellan in the same place) and that as we go against bigger and stronger foes, we should take better care not to leave ourselves in places where there is no way out.
So they fought their way free, lost Amal the orcish fighter in the process, almost lost Smokey the bear, and could not find out what happened to Zoltan.
But they are alive (those that are left) and have a much better idea what awaits them in the dark places of the earth. And that is going to give them what edge they need when they reequip themsleves and come back.
Write up follows:
The party rested as well as they could, silent and pensive in the dim light provided by their dwindling oil supplies and torches. Their food stores grew weaker while Detheron and Karis tended to the wounded amongst the group. Two full days passed and we waited quietly. Waited and waited. No one came, no one entered…and Zoltan never came back.
During that time they discussed many plans on escape, and discarded them just as swiftly. We had no idea what was outside that door, but if it was a return of the gnolls and their shocker lizard mounts, we would be facing some sort of pitched battle.
We broke our goals down into small pieces and agreed on them. We would open the door. Run as fast as we could if possible for the nearest bridge and over it. Then if time allowed, detour to the Temple of Odin to see if Zoltan was there. If no time allowed, run across the entirety of Wodenvarelse and for the stairs up to and eventually the surface.
After Detheron gave his ok that Smokey and himself were no longer suffering any ill effects from their near death experiences we geared up ourselves and decided on tactics. Coruth’tae would make an illusion of the door being closed, allowing Karis to open the door and peek out and not alert anyone in the hall. Gwyn would be placed square on with the exit, a blessed bolt of Odin loaded and ready in our last available crossbow. Amal would take the other door. Detheron, Smoky and Fodder would be ready to support or run as the situation called for.
The spell was cast and Karis tried to open the door – but it was CHAINED shut from the other side! He couldn’t get it open enough for us to see out there. Coruth’tae used a knock spell to open the lock from the other side of the door and Karis shook the doors enough until the chains loosened and he could “hear” and see through the illusion.
And there were gnolls. Lots of them. At least 8, most likely twice that number.
Karis would not be able to open the door alone. Amal would have to help him, so the plan was altered. Also, the templar told Gwyn to hold his shot until the half-ogre could entice enough of the gnolls to group up into a line so the Blessed Bolt could be most effective.
Karis and Amal shook and bashed and banged and wrenched and tugged on the doors, their combined monstrous strength enough to make the lock and chains stretch enough off the handles so that the weakest links broke free and the doors boomed open.
And in the intervening time that had passed, the gnolls had drawn themselves up ready; a fan two deep of 9 mounted gnolls armed with ranseurs but holding windlass cranked crossbows at the ready, two more in reserves beyond them, and a 4 count unmounted and guarding the area near the bridge. Karis roared in front of them at the double door entrance, shouting “Sakath! You yellow bow-legged bastard! Come out and fight us!”
And the gnolls fired at the half ogre in response. He threw himself aside, struggling to avoid being hit, using the doors as a shield and getting shot at least twice by the heavy bolts. He screamed at Gwyn to “FIRE! FIRE THE DAMNED BOLT!” The dwarf squeezed the trigger and there was a rising power behind him, swarmed down his frame, into the crossbow, blowing it apart as the bolt shot free and became a sonic blast of black energy screeching like a thousand ravens. It tore through two of the mounted gnolls, killing them instantly, blasting their mounts to ruined red meat, and then continued on until it shredded one of the standing gnolls further back – the thunderous echo deafening everyone briefly.
Coruth’tae cast a spell and turned himself invisible. Amal sucked down one of his potion bottles and charged out the door, his shield held in front of him, battered his way into one of the mounted gnolls and bullrushed him off. The two of them rolled about the ground with axes flashing and fists pumping. Karis took up front position at the doorway, called on Tyr for a “Blessing in this time of need!” and half of the gnolls hung back, reloading their crossbows. Some of them ran forward and engaged the half ogre – the shocker lizards blasting small bolts of lightning at the half ogre and Amal. Karis was hurt from the bolts, but Amal was unscathed! The potion he had drunk was Tempestskin, and would make him immune to smaller electrical damage for a time.
Smoky was ordered forward and the bear and Karis plied sword and claw against the lead gnolls. Fodder was held back and Coruth’tae, invisible and hopefully quiet, snuck out of the room and hugged the wall to the right on the way to the bridge. Gwyn drew “Blaze”, the battleaxe flaring to life, and joined the battle.
The reek of lizards was strong and Karis chanced to drink his own Tempestskin potion, the party hoping to carve a way through the fight and press of gnolls. Amal rose to his feet and ignoring more shocks, cried for the party to “Run for the bridge!” as he charged on. One of the gnolls misfired his crossbow and shot his own mount in the back of the head, maddening it and causing the lizard to dump him off as it ran away. More bolts were shot and the templar blocked them with his shield where able to.
There was butchery work to be done and the group did their fair share, but gnolls are not goblins and they did not go down without a struggle, a fight, or dishing out their own damage as well. Two of the gnolls attempted to block Amal, but the orc was able to take one of them down, howling in bloodlust at the other as it attempted to skewer him. The mage hung to the side, walking slow and hoping to avoid being spotted.
The lizards near Karis were enticed to bite the half-ogre after the gnolls realized their shocking blasts were ineffective. He plied the area around him with sword and shield, taking on two gnolls if possible. A knot of three gnolls stayed back and kept up a steady stream of crossbow firing. Detheron pointed at them and called out to Frey, summoning an animal to aid him – and a 14’ crocodile materialized out of nowhere, attacking one of the gnolls who was VERY surprised!
A wildly lucky hit with a ranseur struck Karis in the underside of his right arm, slicing through the gap in the chainmail and slamming through his bicep hard enough to cause a critical wound. His blows weakened and his strength hurt, he grimaced his teeth and returned what attacks he could.
Amal gave the last standing orc a terrific kick and shouted “the bridge is clear” as he tried to race across it. The last mounted gnoll in reserve kicked his mount into motion, charged across the open area, and struck the orcish fighter on the side. The blow was heavy and Amal tried to roll with it, but he was too close to the edge of the bridge and he slipped near the side, wobbling and hanging onto the ranseur inside his gut like a lifeline. The gnoll originally kicked to get past rose to its feet and whipped its morning star at the orc, striking him and Amal fell over the bridge and down the Chasm.
1,100 feet down.
Coruth’tae looked over the side of the Chasm until Amal was lost to sight and hunkered low, invisible and hoping that no one would see him this close to the bridge. One of the gnolls raised an alarm gong, ready to strike it, when the elven mage decided he couldn’t let that happen. He withdrew his shadowwand and activated it – a blast of dark light tearing into the gnoll and stopping him from striking the alarm. But he was no longer invisible. And he had one hurt and one healthy gnoll near him and angry. Very angry.
The party redoubled their efforts. Detheron swung Heimdall’s Bulwark at Karis, healing the ogre of some of his wounds, but he was taking more every step. Fodder ran to help the crocodile in polishing off the gnolls on the left flank. Smoky was taking some hurts. But the gnolls and their lizard mounts were dying. The party was about ready to break free.
Then there was a “whoosh” and a dark skinned bald dwarf, floating 30’ in the air appeared and he held his hands out shouting, “IN VAS FLAM GRAV POR!!” And a ball of fire streaked away and detonated right under the party’s feet. Gwyn and Smoky took the brunt of the blast, Karis and Detheron not as much. The bear and the dwarf were very hurt and wobbling about in pain.
Gwyn struck out with Blaze again and again until the gnoll on the right flank finally died. Then his chest heaving and his hit points in the single digits, he withdrew his only potion of “extra-healing” and drank it down – the cool blue liquid returning some of his strength. Bolstered once more, he took his axe and started running for the bridge and the beleaguered illusionist.
Karis whirled about, trying to take down the gnoll nearby, an unridden shocker lizard gnawing on his leg. Smokey staggered and swung and tore and ripped and roared, but the great bear was bleeding badly. Coruth’tae managed to shout out a quick spell before the gnolls hit him, a scintillating “shield” spell coalescing in front of him just in time.
The flying dwarf called out another spell and a blast of energy washed out – hitting Karis’s sword – shattering the weapon! Karis screamed in frustration and dropped his hilt, tugging Kysoth’s Bludgeon from his belt. The elven illusionist was hit hard, even through the spell, a morning star slamming into his face and dropping him IMMEDIATELY to 1 hit point! Gwyn arrived in time and took on the two gnolls from behind as the elf blasted the shadowwand at the wounded one again, killing it.
Smokey was struck and the great bear fell over groaning and unable to fight. Karis told Detheron to go! Run! Get out of here! But the druid refused to abandon his friend or his animal companion. He healed Karis once more and then tried to make his way to the fallen bear.
The flying dwarf pointed at Gwyn who was battleaxing the last gnoll and a forceful “push” spell struck him, shoving him near the edge of the Chasm! Gwyn dug in his feet and turned and twisted and strained and did NOT go over the edge, instead spinning the gnoll he was fighting to the side and sending it down the deep ravine! Coruth’tae and Gwyn then began to run and run hard and fast.
Detheron called out to Frey and shrunk Smokey down to half size and 1/4th weight, allowing Karis to lift the badly wounded ursine. And they had to because from the darkness behind them, was the call and shout and screams of gnolls. Lots of gnolls.
They were running out of time and they had to go. But when they turned towards the bridge and attempted to run for it, the dark dwarf pointed to the area in front of them and screamed out a spell – and a wall of fire appeared, 10’ high and 80’ long! Trapped!
The druid was furious. He slammed his hand into the ground and fired off a powerful “Quench” spell and the center portion of the ensorcelled wall wavered, flickered, and died in a gap 20’ wide. Fodder, Deth, Karis and Smokey charged through and ran on while the flying dwarf cursed them and shouted. He tried to “push” Karis off the bridge but the mighty half ogre was too strong and ran on.
The pursuing gnolls were behind, close behind. The party paused long enough for Detheron to get a quick healing into Smokey to stabilize the dying bear, but then they were off – some hundred feet or so separating them from their pursuers. Gwyn and Coruth’tae were far ahead and they ran on until they hit the stairs out of the great hall and ran up them, hearts hammering and chests pounding.
For a brief moment Karis mused about going to the Temple of Odin and seeing if Zoltan was there but it was discarded and he ran instead, thrown missile weapons clattering around behind him.
The party ran on, up the stairs, onward and onward. Eventually the sound of the gnoll pursuers faded and was left behind. At the top of the stairs we threw the last lever and dropped the bars and then wearily picked our way out of the Folly and to the surface above. We shut the door, the Lyreth Ward re-enacting and the party rested. Long and deep.
We waited a day and a half – Speaking with Goloriana, discussing what we had seen, and talking about Zoltan and his still not emergence. Finally we could wait no longer. We loaded up the wagons and on Earthmonth the 29th and began the long ride back. It was 3 days to Ponyboro and then we headed towards Orihalcus – another day and a half – making the gates to the copper mining city on Spiritmonth the 3rd, 1:00 in the afternoon – 17 days after we had left.
The guards let us pass, giving Karis a hard look but inquiring on the missing party members. They were saddened to hear that Zoltan had been lost in the Folly and hoped for his eventual return. It was with bitter ruminations that we made our way at long last to our home. The key that we had did not work and the lock had been changed. The kobold women were within and were enticed to let us in.
We learned that a week ago or so, someone had gotten a copy of the house key and attempted to sneak in, but the 3 kobold women used knives, claws, and teeth to drive them away. Sheriff Phozarn had the lock changed and the guards were rotated.
We unloaded all our belongings, Gwyn took the steeds and wagons to the stables. Karis went to see Sir Walter, eventually getting audience with him and Adeptus Bjorn. He talked about our journey and missing companions (Zoltan and Amal), learned about the attempted thievery at the party’s home, there had also been an attempted break in at Sir Walter’s Manor house and the culprit, a dwarven thief from the southern barony, had been tried and hung, and finally that Kalt Slaine had left Orihalcus and was back with his father in Principia.
Karis mentioned that he would be bringing the party’s 10% share for the guild here tomorrow and Adeptus Bjorn brought up Fengarth’s Tower again and the troll T’Nagrath there.
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