Final date...

25th - 26th of January 2020!
(Perhaps even 24th-26th January?)
:D

Module 6!

The morning after the adventure before

Unarmoured but wrapped in a warm blanket, Bastien finds himself sitting by the rekindled fire, drinking hot, sweet tea with his companions.
Listening to his friend's stories of newly recalled and astonishing coincidences, Bastien realises that the three of them were always destined to travel together.
All roads led to their meeting.
As for himself though, he'd already managed to piece together most of the memories lost to him in Fassel wood.
His mission, his home and his past.
Only one thing still evades him...
"Artax!", he suddenly shouts out much to everyone else's surprise.
"My horse was called Artax!"

Best of both worlds

Being of mixed elven heritage, Nitendae needs less sleep than his human companions. Even so, his trances often slip into a dream-like state.
This night is one of those nights.
Like both the tenacious Bastien and the boy Volkon, he'd also had his memories stolen from him, all those many months ago, back in Fassel wood. Initially, he'd assumed that the annoying, shyster gnome wizard had cast a temporary spell on them to weaken their will and make swindling them easier. Later, he realised, that Hedzor was just exploiting the supernatural nature of the wood itself for his own larcenous benefit.
Underhand but impressive.
Unlike his human companions though, he'd lost more. Much more.
The burning, long term after effects of the drow poison had severed his sorcerous blood links and affected his fractured mind further. His reaction to it was probably compounded by the ongoing effects of those hateful mists.
Still, now after months of not knowing, Nitendae's memories begin trickling back...
He remembers his kind but distant elven mother.
He remembers the oddness of looking older than her by the time he'd reached maturity.
Nitendae had sensed that she had been embarrassed by his human blood, though she never said it aloud.
He remembers the ridiculousness of trying to continue to learn with the full blooded elven children born around the same time as him. Children still, even now.
Even his attempts at integrating in the cities of men had been wrought with missteps.
With his father dead, the two human 'mentors' he'd found; Faigin the thief and the exploitative wizard proved to be useless. Both just wanting to exploit his elven deftness and nescient sorcerous abilities.
It's only then when the flood of lost memories return...
A whispered message carried and conveyed by songbird, summoned him back to the forests of his childhood.
The solemn meeting with his elven lord and the revelation that the dark elves from below were deliberately undermining treaties and pacts between the surface races.
"Young half-blood, we are tied to these woods, but you Nitendae, with your unique skill set, you straddle the worlds of men and elves. Only you can travel to the island of Squamata, and disrupt the Drow's sinister plot." 
Back in the present, Nitendae's almond shaped eyes snap into focus, but rather than the horizon, he sees the truth.
The sudden realisation that, rather than being seen as half an elf, he was actually an elf plus...
He wasn't less than his mother's race, he was better!
Ironically, despite his memory loss, he had uncovered the drow and disrupted their plans. True, he didn't know exactly what that plan was, but from what he'd already seen, he knew it was potentially world changing.

Ancient enemies

Sleep has never come easy to the flame haired Volkon. Too impatient, too excitable, just too spirited, according to his many aunts. Normally he has to summon the calming voice of his old and trusted sponsor; Oreon. Dead now but still bringing comfort to his troubled heart.
This night though, exhausted by the previous battles and the arduous climb out of the Underdark, he passes out as soon as he lays down his head.
Instead of visions of his childhood though, Volkon's mind drifts back to more recent events. Memories of his stern faced tribal chief and the war council. Memories he'd thought lost months ago in the mists of Fassel wood.
He recalls the gruff orders of his scarred and one-eyed chief...
"Volkon, you are young but you've been blooded and proved yourself in battle many times. You also have the tracking skills needed for this mission."
As if floating outside himself, Volkon watches his young brow, furrow in concentration.
"Our ancient enemies; the hated Orcs of the Bear claw clan, have started to drift away from our contested lands. This may seem to be a good thing but the tribal elders sense danger. Something is happening. Something big and something bad."
The dream memory Volkon rises to his fur wrapped feet.
"Whatever you need my chief, I will serve."
The broad shouldered chieftain leans forward.
"Seek them out, learn what they are doing and why? Don't engage them directly though but as soon as you uncover their endgame, report back."
The Volkon of the present sits up, his mind suddenly clear. He remembers everything!
A smile forms unbidden on his lightly freckled but tanned face.
Despite finding and tracking the Bear claw clan, he'd not been able to resist 'engaging' with them. Alone or with the help of fellow humans he'd befriended on the journey, he'd set aflame to several of their camps and killed scores of them.
Fucking Bear claw clan bastards!
Still, the orcs he'd met during his recent adventures had altered his opinion slightly.
An upbringing full of hatred is hard to overcome but some of them. Just some of them were... alright.

Unfinished tapestry

Scott's Australia news has made me realise that our next adventure will probably be our last.
This means that all the plot threads I've left dangling, need tying up.
Yes, of course there's a plot!
Some of them are down to clues not found or questions not asked but most of them are just down to me and shortage of time.
I'll try to post some of the clues/answers up over the next month and wrap as many of the others during the next session's actual gameplay...

Ringing the changes

The young sorceress Sereena, sits beside the still water admiring her reflection and the shiny magical ring on her index finger.
It’s beautiful and a perfect fit. No surprise there though, as Sereena was quite aware of the diameter changing properties of enchanted jewellery.
The currently unarmoured, battle cleric Bastien strides over. He looks odd in his loose fitting tunic.
“It’s a powerful item isn’t it?”
Sereena instantly senses danger.
“It’s not bad. It might prove useful.”
Bastien narrows his eyes.
“More useful for you or me?”
The lithe, dark haired sorceress’ eyes narrow in response and she’s about to proffer a pithy insult, when the russet haired Volkon ambles up to join them.
“What’ya talking about?”
Bastien cannot help himself and describes the powers Sereena’s ring bestows.
Volkon’s eyes widen.
“What? It could enable me to completely dodge a dragon’s breath?!"
It’s Bastien’s turn to balk at this sudden intrusion to his negotiation with the young witch.
“What do you mean: ‘me’?” he chokes. “You and Nitendae have already claimed far more than me! Surely you can’t think that I deserve no less?!”
In response, the young barbarian squats down besides Sereena and in the shadow of the still standing Bastien.
“Did I complain when there was nothing useful for me?”
The Fharlanghnian priest give an overstated pantomime, double nod.
“Fair enough”, admits Volkon “But did it make any difference?”
Bastien has to give ground here and accepts the truth, while the barbarian turns to the dangerous looking Sereena.
“Tell you what girl. If I take that ring off you, I’ll have three magical rings. One more than I can use at the same time…”
Sereena’s eyes are nothing more than murderous slits.
“How about I give you the ‘Chameleon’ ring in exchange? To be honest, I only took it out of spite anyway.”
Her eyes widening slightly, Sereena considers to offer. Volkon had consistently been a pig and a thorn in her side but he was young and headstrong. She’d met hundreds of his type before and as a barbarian, he was all about taking, not asking.
In addition to that, the ‘Chameleon’ ring he was offering in exchange was actually much more suited to her particular skill set.
Slipping off the ‘Evasion’ ring, she offers it up with one hand, while holding the other out, palm up.

Sereena swaps her ‘Ring of Evasion’ with Volkon, for his ‘Ring of Chameleon power’.

Just to be clear... As mud

Re-Amended:

After Scott’s late-to-the-party loot request, I thought I’d just confirm who got what…

Nitendae: Ring of Invisibility / Boots of Levitation / Short sword +3 (Ghost touch) (glowing)

Volkon: Ring of Protection +3 / Ring of Evasion / 20 Arrows +3 (Silver)

Bastien: Ioun stone of Wisdom +2

Marlon: Gloves of swimming and climbing / Warhammer +3

Demitasse: Ioun stone of Intelligence +2 / Chain shirt +3 (improved shadow)

Sereena: Ring of Chameleon power / Wand of webs (24 charges) / Dagger +3 (Silver)

I don't mind further dabates, as long as you do it in the comments below... 

Will Bastien demand the Ring of Evasion off of Sereena?

Will Nitendae give up ten of the magical silver arrows to Volkon?

Do those redistributions make sense?

Would it be better for one high hit chance barbarian to be the only one with magical silver arrows or is there an argument for two archers firing simultaneously?

(And the decision goes to the Barbarian.)

Would the Evasion ring be better on the finger of the heavily armoured but relied upon cleric or on the confrontational middle-finger of the super-agile barbarian or on the dainty digit of the fragile sorceress with the high reflex save?

(And again, the decision goes to the Barbarian.)

Ultimately it's up to you three. The henchmen (and woman) are just that. They will do and accept whatever you decide.

Sereena begrudgingly gives up the Ring of Evasion for the Ring of Chameleon power.

Volkon and Nitendae ended up doing very well out of this adventure. Bastien picked up a very useful trinket but is certainly due something better next adventure.

Weirdly, I gave out three rings with the intention of you all taking one each. I thought Assif would want the Evasion one and David the Invisibility one. The Protection +3 was actually intended for Scott. That said, it's always completely up to you, what you do and how you share the loot.

Once you’ve updated your 10th level character sheets to include magical loot and cash, please send me a PDF copy... Soonish pretty please, as I'm thinking of running the next game (if you're all up for it) in February 2020.

Hidden in plain sight

After sitting crossed legged and silent for weeks, Soffic, the grey elf‘s steely, almond-shaped eyes blink open.
“They’ve succeeded!”
The diminutive gnome, Sagassos nearly falls off the chair he’d been reclining in but still spits out his pipe.
“Are you sure? You’ve barely eaten or drunk anything since they left. Might you be just hallucinating?”
The gaunt grey elf ignores the question.
“Fetch the Abbot. He’ll want to know that Thereanthor’s skull has been destroyed and that his priest is still alive.”
After a few minutes, Sagassos returns with Abbot Elphic in tow.

“Is it true?”, wheezes the elderly, wide eyed cleric.

The ancient grey elf nods in affirmation, but his expression is disturbingly grave.

“True; yes, but their quest is far from over. The secret I’d hoped lost forever, has been discovered…The enemy have learned the location of the dragon’s daughter!”
Colour drains from the gnome’s, previously ruddy cheeks.
“But... But they’re so far away! How will they get to Fewham in time to save her?”

Insatiable appetites

In the privacy of the cool brook, and with thanks to a small cake of Issack’s soap, the beautiful and unadorned Sereena is finally clean. Though generally uninhibited and unashamed, she still preferred to wait until all the men were finished and distracted with other chores.
Fond of Marlon as she is, she didn’t want to torture him with the sight of her wet and naked body.
That said, she had spotted someone spying on her through the bushes.
It was probably the young barbarian; Volkon, but she couldn’t be sure and, to be honest, didn’t care that much.
Let him have a free show if he wanted.
Her jewellery was scrubbed back to its shinning brilliance and her silk and satin cloths were laid out and drying in the setting sun. She wasn’t cold though, as she was now warmly wrapped in a soft blanket from Issack’s extensive supplies.
Surveying her possessions lying out on the rock beside her, she had to admit that she’d gained more than a fair haul of treasure…
Gold, platinum, silver and many expensive gems. It was the magical items though, that gave her the most joy.
Another enchanted dagger, a second wand and the ring were nice additions to her collection.
Still, she could feel a hunger for more. It was like her avaricious dragon soul would never, could never be fully satisfied.

Simple things

Marlon turns the traded warhammer over in his hands. It’s a good weapon. A king’s weapon and frankly, in his chunky, human hands, a better weapon than the one he ‘traded’. Despite that though, he feels somehow cheated. His old one was fancy, with ornate carvings in the head and gold embellishments on the handle. This ‘new’ one was functional but dull.
On seeing her slump-shouldered friend, Sereena sits down beside him.
“What’s wrong Marlon?”, she semi-teases.
Missing the gently mocking tone, Marlon turns toward her and presents his warhammer.
“Do you think that dwarven king swindled me?”
Taking her time to examine the weapon, Sereena meets his eyes and smiles.
“From what I understand, your old hammer was enchanted for dwarven hands alone and this one, though lesser to them, is greater for you. It’s a powerful weapon and you should be thankful for it.”
The beefy Marlon smiles at the reassurance.
Sereena continues, “Also, this one doesn’t come with a ‘make-you-hairy curse’ and suits you much better.”
Marlon’s brow furrows. “You mean it’s like me; sturdy and reliable?”
The young sorceress laughs as she jumps up and dances away.
“No, you fool. Like you, it’s plain and simple!”

Spreading the word

He’d seen Bastien use two of these strange marbles now, and so knew how to set them into orbit around his head. Still, Demitasse was unsure how it’d feel or what he’d gain from his intelligence being heightened. Would he feel smarter? Would he suddenly know more?
Flicking the small, scarlet and blue Ioun stone into the air, it immediately veers back and adopts a tight rotation around Demitasse’s dark, curly hair.
He blinks twice. There’s no great revelation. His understanding of the universe doesn’t suddenly expand… And yet something has changed.
Seeking out Sereena, he asks her if he seems any different?
The dusky sorceress’ eyes narrow for a moment, as she takes him in.

“Well, you don’t look any different but I’ve never heard you speak ‘Draconic’ before…”

Demitasse learns to speak ‘Draconic’, ‘Infernal’ and ‘Goblin’.

Prayers in the dark

Despite his combat training, Demitasse has always placed mobility over heavy armour. The magical chainmail shirt he’d taken from the dead barbarian, though light, appeared to have an additional power; whenever he entered shadowy areas, the blackened metal links seemed to merge into it. Though not clumsy, the bearded cleric had never possessed any stealth-like skills but perhaps this new ability might prove useful…

Fourth, fifth and sixth dibs

Sifting through the remaining magical items, Sereena palms the remaining ring, the wand and the silver dagger.
Silver daggers are vital when facing werewolves and devils but, due to the softness of the metal, do slightly less damage than steel. Still, with the magical enhancements, it’s still a useful weapon.
The spider wand could also prove useful but the evasion ring is her favoured prize. It, in conjunction with her magical cloak, could be the difference between life and death.
Marlon keeps his new, unadorned war-hammer but also pulls on the paradoxically, sticky but slick gloves.
Between his heavy armour and boffoonishness, he still struggles with climbing and can’t swim at all. Maybe these will at least, enable him to doggy paddle in his armour for a while?
Demitasse takes the weirdly dark chainmail and the scarlet and blue ioun stone.
Physical protection is always useful but, as far as he’s concerned, not at the expense of speed.
Intelligence though, should never be undervalued.

Bigger on the inside

Despite Demitasse painstakingly wrapping up the valuable but unwanted magical weapons and armour before placing them into Issack, the magical backpack cries out: “Careful beardy!”.
Demitasse isn't offended though. He’s come to regard the enchanted old bag as a friend. An odd, moany, rude friend but a friend never-the-less.
He also understands Issack’s concerns. A sharp object placed within his magical confines, could easily tear a hole in him, thereby destroying the magic that makes him; him.
An unsheathed dagger could kill him in a moment.
After squeezing everything magical inside the haversack, Demitasse looks around…
Although, bigger on the inside, Issack still had to dump a lot of stuff to make room and the bearded cleric is amazed at the ex-contents scattered around.
Bedrolls and blankets. Portable rams and buckets. There’s even a Grappling hook and some Manacles. The list of smaller items seems endless… Fish-hooks and magnifying glasses. Chalks and soap...
Demitasse has to chortle though, when Issack finally spews out two empty, mundane backpacks.
“Well, you can’t expect me to leave ALL my stuff behind!”
The hefty Marlon pouts. “You’re not expecting us to lug all that back to civilization, are you? It’s like, hundreds of miles!”
The bag seems to puff up in response. “Only until we can sell some of this stuff. You think I WANT to be full of magically sharp axes and scythes!”
Demitasse's smile falters though when he notices Sereena shaking her head.
"Don't look at me, boys", she says. "I only see two backpacks."

Who said that..?

Nitendae is impressed with the magical haul, but is drawn to one item.
Slipping it on he fades from sight, ahh very precious.
He places it down, off to one side, certain that his two comrades will see the advantages of him having the ring.
Being that the others all have bigger weapons he marks the short sword, although he'd need to do something to prevent the glow.
Finally suggesting a split of the fine arrows between himself and Volkon.
He keeps an eye on the boots, not quite flying but an assist to future second storey work. If it looks like no one else is interested he'll slip them on - would be a shame to sell them.

He notices Sereena eyeing the intricate silver dagger and also urges the others to let her take the web slinging wand to add to her use to the party, from out of harms way.
Most of the other items have little attraction, or would be of little use, to him. Let the others have their pick and whatever is left can be disposed of, either in Isaak or sold on.

Fair divisions

As they examine the weapons they'd found on the dead adventurers, Sereena and Demitasse catch each-other's eyes.

“Why were their weapons all silvered?” the young sorceress murmurs. 

The bearded cleric’s forehead furrows.

“There’s only two possible reasons, I can think of, to carry silvered weapons…”

Their conversation’s interrupted by the others returning from their ablutions.

“Worked out what all this crap is?” grins the red-haired Volkon.

While Demitasse expresses his best guesses, Sereena divvies out the coins and gems.

As the piles of gems, platinum and gold are shared out, Marlon looks confused.

“Why’s my pile mostly silver and copper but everyone else’s platinum and gold?”

Sereena smiles sweetly.

“Because, you’re the only one of us big and strong enough to carry all those heavy coins.”

Marlon smiles in return. He knows that Sereena’s patronizing him but he just loves it when she smiles.

Volkon: 3 x Opals worth 1000gp each / 3 x Jaspers worth 50gp each / 90pp / 44gp

Bastien: 3 x Opals worth 1000gp each / 3 x Jaspers worth 50gp each / 90pp / 44gp

Nitendae: 3 x Opals worth 1000gp each / 3 x Jaspers worth 50gp each / 90pp / 44gp

Demitasse: 1 x Opal worth 1000gp each / 2 x Jaspers worth 50gp each / 50pp / 447gp

Sereena: 1 x Opal worth 1000gp each / 2 x Jaspers worth 50gp each / 50pp / 447gp

Marlon: 2 x Jaspers worth 50gp each / 18pp / 1624gp / 1362sp /1139cp

Guessing colours by their taste

Consolidated magical items and treasure list.
Marlon joins Bastien at the brook to wash his armour, leaving Nitendae, Sereena, Issack and Demitasse to try to ascertain what the magical items they’d ‘found’ actually were.

By a process of experimentation and metagaming expedience, they manage to identify all of them… Including those dodgy potions.

Magical items:

Armour:

2 x Leather armour +1

4 x Studded Leather armour +1
Chain mail +3
Chain shirt: +3 (improved shadow)
Breast plate: +3

Heavy Shield: +3

Weapons:

2 x Scythe +2 Wounding
4 x Two-handed Miner's Pick +1
Great Axe (Silver): +4 Vicious
Dagger (Silver) +3
Morning star: +2 (Silver)
Short sword +3 (ghost touch / Glows)
Warhammer +3 (Marlon is already using it.)

20 x Arrows (Silver) +3

Rings:

Ring of Evasion
Ring of Protection: +3
Ring of Invisibility

Ioun stones:

Ioun stone: Scarlet & Blue: (+2 Int)

Ioun stone: Incandescent Blue: (+2 Wisdom)

Clothes:

Gloves of Swimming and climbing
Boots of Levitation

Wand of Webs: (24 charges)

Potions:

15 x Potions of Bull’s strength
10 x Potion of Disguise
10 x Potion of Levitation.
10 x Potion of Cure Light Wounds: 1d8+ 3

4 x Silversheen pots

Poisons:

10 x Consumable Poison (Oil of Taggit: No initial effect but one minute later: Fort save: DC: 15 or fall unconscious.)
7 x Drow Injury Poison: (Ft DC:13: Unconscious for 1 min / Unconscious for 5 hrs)

Expensive mundane items:
10 x MW light Crossbow
10 x MW Longsword
10 x Thieves’ tools
5 x MW Rapier

Useful expendable items:
85 x arrows
40 x bolts

Money:

388pp, 2,650gp, 1,362sp and 1,139cp

Gems:

15 x Jaspers: 50gp each.
11 x Opals: 1000gp each.

A tight squeeze

Uncharacteristically, Nitendae leads the way, as the party trace the rivulet back toward the surface.
The tunnel moves ever upward but at jarringly erratic widths and angles, forcing the elven rogue to secure pitons, trail ropes, find suitable handholds and mark the way. Occasionally, he delays their ascent as he’s forced to physically chisel away at rocky outcrops to allow passage to some of his bulkier companions.

The awkwardness of the tunnel, force him to scrabble and sometimes almost submerge himself in icy water but the little grey cat; Cogitari pads constantly at his side, purring encouragement like old times.

It’s odd that the link between them isn’t completely broken. When close, he can still feel traces of the bond they once shared. The cat still weirdly cares for him, despite its new allegiance to the sorceress; Sereena.

With skill, ropes, effort and luck, Nitendae guides them all to the surface and, as he emerges from a particularly tight tunnel, he’s grateful to finally see daylight.

Blinking in the brightness, Nitendae hauls himself out into its warming comfort and Cogitari rubs herself against him. Overcome with relief, the half-elf can’t resist scooping the little cat up and giving her a tight but affectionate hug.  

The finger of god

The Party trudge up seemingly endless, moss covered stone hewn steps, until they come to the main collection pool of water. It’s an enormous rectangular stone reservoir feeding the Lavada that ran parallel to the stairway they just ascended.
There are grates and mesh covers, filtering the water and over to the side you spot the skeletal remains of what looks like an, up-until-then, successful cleric adventurer.

Nitendae moves over to strip the body but Demitasse grabs his arm.

“Look at the way he died. It’s like he’s pointing at something…”

The Party move over in the darkness, being careful not to fall into the icy water and find five rivulets acting as tributaries into the basin.

The tunnels they’re emerging from are all wide enough for a grown man to squeeze through and are all heading upwards toward the surface.

The cleric is pointing a skeletal finger at the second one.

“Guess that’s the way out?” ventures Sereena, “But do we trust him?”

Volkon’s brow furrows. “Why would a dead man lie?”

“I don’t know… Maybe he was just mean-spirited dick?” She replies.

Demitasse settles the argument, “I think we can trust him.”

“Why’s that then?” sighs the young sorceress.

Demitasse seems surprised by the question.

“Because, by the symbol on his shield and tabard; he’s a priest of St Cuthbert.”

Sereena still looks confused, so an exasperated Demitasse expounds further.

“St Cuthbert… The god of Truth and Justice!”

After marking the indicated path, Nitendae strips the body and Issack checks for magic.

The party idly wonder how he’d managed to get up through the sewer opening and what had managed to kill him so close to safety? The answer suddenly becomes apparent as scores of poisonous, orange centipedes scuttle out of his disturbed armour.

Bastien nods in both sympathy and understanding. What’s sadder than a lone cleric out of divine healing spells?

He must have died alone in the dark with no defence from the crawling beasties.

The others skip backwards in momentary alarm, but the centipedes merely scurry back into the deep shadows.

Magical treasure:

Impressive Breast plate armour

A Heavy bronze Shield
An ornate Morning star
A small Incandescent Blue stone
Some very comfy Boots
4 x pots of some Silvery paste

Coins:

91pp, 487gp, 133sp and 96cp

Marlon gets hammered

Standing in the Duergar throne room, surrounded by oxymoronic giant dwarves, Marlon nervously twists the leather-bound handle of his magical war-hammer.

Although he’s only possessed it for a week or so, it feels comforting in his grasp
Empowering.

Their giant dwarven king is negotiating with Bastien and Marlon takes a moment to push the hair out of his eyes and scratch his itchy beard.

It seems bizarre how quickly his hair had been growing recently. He hadn’t mentioned it to the others, but it wasn’t just the hair on his head…

He was like some sort of furry beast beneath his armour!

The only explanation he could come up with was that he must’ve somehow been bitten by a Werewolf when no-one was looking.

“You there! What’s that in your hands?”

Marlon doesn’t immediately realise, that the gravel-voiced, giant dwarven advisor is addressing him but when he does, he grips his magical war-hammer tighter, pulling it close to his chest.

Aside from its magical properties, he loves it. It’s never let him down and it feels so balanced. Even when he threw it at the Dragon skull, it flew perfectly, as if destined to do so.

The young Volkon urges him forward though and Marlon obeys.

King Edrab examines the war-hammer in seemingly awed silence before finally speaking.

“This War-hammer is a dwarven weapon. It was forged by master dwarven craftsmen and belongs in dwarven lands and dwarven hands. It is a weapon fit for a king! I will allow you all safe passage from my kingdom in exchange for this sole gift.”

Marlon instinctively reaches for his war-hammer back but is blocked by two enormous dwarven guards.

The king’s advisor whispers something in his king's ear and Edrab’s stern expression softens slightly.

“As it is such a generous tribute, I will even bestow the supplicant my own powerfully enchanted war-hammer in return.”

Relieved to be getting out of there alive and without trading away their own magical loot, the Party thank the king and usher a dejected looking Marlon out through the huge door.

Marlon trades away his Dwarven thrower for a simple War-hammer +3

Riddle of the Sphincter!

Through a combination of spells, magic items and cooperation, the Party manage to get up through the disgusting, dripping, sphincter-like opening. The ‘room’ above seems to be the processing chamber to the dumping ground below and the buzzing, magical screen, simply there to keep the bulbous flies, down below.

There are wheelbarrows full of organic waste materials and four naked dwarves are laid out on stone slabs beside the walls, but they are quite dead. All four of them have had their stomachs cleanly cut open and then roughly sutured back shut.

On a nearby metal table, sits a large, pad-locked, iron strongbox.

It’s far too big to stuff into Issack but the half-elven thief; Nitendae makes short work of the heavy lock.
Inside are around thirty opals and jasper gems. They are obviously valuable but all of them seem to be covered in some slimy, pink goo…
Dead dwarf guts!

Treasure: 

Jaspers x 15: Average value: 50gp each.

Opals x 11: Average value: 1000gp each!

(Excluding  3 Jaspers used for bribes.)

Four-pack of dim bulbs

During our last session, Assif and I argued over a couple of topics.
The first was a simple Blind faith verses Paranoia debate, which I think we can just agree to disagree about. 

The second was about light sources. 

As Scott noticed early on, your main opponent in the last adventure was the problems associated with being underground in total and constant darkness. 

However, as Assif and I were arguing about your personal light sources and where you could stick them, none of us considered the fact that he (Volkon) was brandishing a two-handed ‘Flaming’ sword! 

(Sheds light as torch: Bright light for 20-feet radius / Dim light for 40-feet radius.) 

Not only that, but on checking its description in the Players handbook, I was reminded that approximately a third of magical weapons actually glow.

(As a Light spell: Bright light for 20-feet radius / Dim light for 40-feet radius.)

Having a quick look through your character sheets:

Volkon’s Two-handed sword doesn’t (but can flame on command).

Bastien’s two-handed sword does.
Neither of Nitendae’s swords do.

Marlon’s Warhammer doesn’t.

Demitasse’s Mace doesn’t.

Sereena’s Dagger does.

Make a note of this on your character sheets but frankly, between the swords and spells, I doubt you’ll ever have to be afraid of the dark again.

Wash it away

The stench is nauseating, the acrid fumes sting their eyes and the lining of their noses but the party move forward anyway. What choice do they have? The tunnel’s obviously been caved in behind them, forcing them into a trap.
Using the light from their various torches and magics, Marlon and Volkon lead the way.
Soon, the walls, ceiling and floor of the tunnel get narrower, rougher and more naturally formed. This just confirming what everyone was thinking…
They'd chosen the wrong path, giving the Death-worshippers and Dark-elves an uncontested path back to the dragon skull.
That, at least, won’t be an issue though. The Skull is broken and some its teeth safely reside in Bastien’s Knapsack and the magical backpack; Issack’s innards.

Sereena’s the first to object to their direction.

“By Vecna’s guts, There's shit all over the floor!”

Demitasse tries the placate her.

“Don’t worry, we’re all in this together.”

Sereena scowls.

“We may ‘all be in this together’ but while you’re wearing armoured boots, I’m just wearing silk slippers… Ruined silk slippers!”

Marlon peers back over his shoulder.

“At least it’s only on your slippers. Imagine if you were covered head to toe in it?”

…

It’s about twenty minutes later that Sereena’s squatting in a corner, trying to comb rancid, liquid excrement out of her long, raven hair. Her expensive clothes and jewellery are caked in foul brown filth.

Flicking away several fat, lazy, black flies buzzing around her head, Sereena glares at Marlon.

“You just had to tempt fate didn’t you? You big doofus!”

On the up side, the Party did get a ‘shower’ of magical items from the three adventurer bodies you pulled out from the offal and tentaclular grip of the Otyugs.

Treasure:

The Three Dead adventures.

Skeletons of dead adventurers but still wearing their colourful finery and majorly setting off: ‘Detect magic’.

Human Barbarian: 

A really nice looking set of Chain mail armour
A silver Great Axe

An adamantine Ring

A pair of incredibly soft leather Gloves

A Potion

Human Magic user: 

A black Wand decorated with interwoven, fine silver lines 

A small Scarlet & Blue stone

A platinum Ring

A silver dagger

A Potion

Elven Thief:

A matt black Chain shirt 

An eerily glowing Short sword

20 silver Arrows 

A translucent Ring

A Potion

They also had coins to a value of:

4 x Rubies worth 500gp each, 280pp, 1,232gp, 358sp and 261cp

Still more to come…

A road untraveled

The ‘elected’ group of four Black-cloaks seat themselves around Lord Akkbarr. Unsurprisingly, thanks to his fellow Nerull cultists, he’s been raised from the dead but… just not all the way. He emanates evil and the Black-cloaks feel sickened just looking at his pallid skin and burning red eyes.

The bravest amongst them, clears his throat…

“The adventurers took the wrong path and the last surviving Duergar mining expert successfully triggered the prepared tunnel mouth cave in. They’ll not be coming back that way.”

Lord Akkbar smiles, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth and bloodless gums.

“Shame, I was looking forward to returning a few, fire themed favors. Where did they end up?”

The senior Black-cloak tries to smile in response but his lips refuse to co-operate.

“They took the tunnel toward the Duergar underground Kingdom. I doubt they got that far though. They’ll probably have been killed by the revolting filth eaters that inhabit the stinking, fly infested sewers below King Edrab’s realm.”

Dead Drow tell no tales

Singrid flicks a strand of her long, luxurious, pure white hair, behind a delicately pointed ear.
The Dragon disciple’s plan had failed spectacularly and Thereanthor’s skull probably destroyed.

Her eight-legged deity would be furious but she knew she was blameless. She had openly disagreed with her superiors and been very vocal in her distaste about colluding with the humans. Evil or otherwise.

Still, she admitted, the opportunities presented by their cooperation, were too fantastic to dismiss.

If they were successful, the world of Fissa would be made over in their image!

A quarter of her squad had been captured but fortunately, all of them had been killed before being given the chance to reveal the greater plan.

Even now, her masters were unsure if these interfering do-gooders even understood what it was they were attempting to stop?

The young, red-headed Barbarian’s desire to kill everyone in his path had thankfully, prevented them from actually learning anything.

Treasure from Drow soldiers:

5 x MW Rapier 

85 x arrows

7 x Drow Injury Poison: (Ft DC:13: Unconscious for 1 min / Unconscious for 5 hrs)

Money: 18pp, 82gp, 291sp

Ten little adventurers (With lyrics)

Ten little adventures drinking poison wine.

The Rogue failed his saving roll and then there were nine.

Nine little adventurers, the Paladin acts as bait.

The others ran away and then there were eight.

Eight little adventurers, climbing stairs to heaven.

The cleric succeeded and then there were seven.

Seven little adventurers, really in a fix.

The Fighter got eaten and then there were six.

Six little adventurers trying to survive.

The wizard fluffed his skill check and then there were five...

Five little adventurers falling through the floor.

The Ranger broke his neck and then there were four.

Four little adventurers chasing a mummy.

The Bard caught diseases and then there were three.

Three little adventurers using bags of glue.

The Druid got stuck and then there were two.

Two little adventurers battling in the sun.

The Barbarian somehow stabbed himself and then there was only one.

One little adventure, having no more fun.

The DM went home and then there were none.

:)

One of our corpses is missing

An alarm bell trips at the entrance of the secret passageway and, despite the distance, the Drow priestess silently signals for the surviving ten Death-cultists to head back up the main tunnel.
Their mission; to confirm the adventurers claims. To see for themselves that the Dragon’s skull is indeed destroyed.
Cautiously, they creep uphill through the darkness and re-enter the cave, half expecting a trap.
After their recent, disastrous encounter, they’re relieved that the would-be-heroes are gone.
Let the Drow deal with them.

They quickly find and examine the fractured remnants of the skull.

“Damn it! Our plans are ruined!” hisses one of them.

“No matter” responds his compatriot. “We always have plan B to fall back on and frankly, I much prefer it anyway. Proper drama. A helpless woman being bound and sacrificed on a blood-stained altar. It’s classic!” 

As they’re chatting, they go to work searching through the dead bodies piled up around the outer edges of the cavern.

“Found her!” one of them shouts.

Rolling out a stretcher, several of the Nerull worshippers, lay the lifeless husk of the Dragon disciple across it, her head hanging at an unnatural, broken necked angle. Four of them lift her up and slowly begin the hike back to the staging area.

“Don’t worry Teala, Lady Death’ll be more than happy to send you back.”, the lead cultist whispers in her unhearing ear.

“What about the priests, our Fly riders: Crawley & Kotow?” asks one of the other searchers.

“Sod them.", replies another. “They were just middle-management.” 

Ten little adventures...

The ten surviving, extravagantly dressed adventurers sprint back down the massive underground tunnel toward safety.
“I can’t believe they destroyed the skull!”, shouts a beautiful sorceress with a voice both deep and inappropriate.
“I can’t believe they killed all those orc guardians!”, replies a gnomish acrobat, his voice emerging from the air two feet above his head.
“I can’t believe they saw through our brilliant disguises!”, adds an armoured knight, his gleaming plate-mail, oddly silent, despite his rapid pace.

Treasure found on the ten dead Adventurer/Death-cultists

There are forty suspiciously labelled potions on the now revealed death cultists bodies:

10 x Potion of Disguise
10 x Potion of Levitation.
10 x Cure Moderate Wounds
10 x Potion of Cure Light Wound

Some Masterwork quality equipment:

10 x MW light Crossbow
10 x MW Longsword

Some potentially useful adventuring gear:

10 x Thieves’ tools

And some coin purses:

Money: 578gp, 213sp, 89cp

And relax....

Nitendae glances up from where he is fastidiously trying to get the blood out of his leather armour, his own blood; which makes it even more annoying, as Bastien heads off to a shallow pool.
The relief amoungst the group is easy to see; Bastien off to repair and clean his armour, Demitasse sitting calmly praying, Marlon and Sereena quietly chatting. Even though the boybarian Volken wasn't in sight he must be feeling the same sense of relief.
He'd gone over to chat to Marlon and Sereena earlier, the large warrior easily pleased with a sincere thanks. The more cynical Sereena charmed as they discussed the merits of the gems they'd looted.
Nite' was impressed with the growing abilities of the young sorceress, her talents complimenting his and aiding the group immensely. Although he still felt an emptiness, he was glad that Cogitari had found a new bond with Sereena.
Nite' is amazed that they seemed to have accomplished their goal, the skull has been destroyed and they have all escaped intact. The biggest worry now was how much the orcs would find out, it was a shame that they had to kill the super elite orcs but the skull was too important to leave intact.
Nitendae was looking forward to a boring ride home to the Hole in the Wall and a few days peace before they were called on, once again, to save the day.

Back to Black

“What kind of fuckery is this?”

Whinhose charges back along the pitch black tunnel with the other warrior elites, panic thundering in his heart. 

The adventures had tricked them!

He had semi-trusted them and in return they had lied!

Were the other orc warriors they left in the skull cave-in cavern still alive?

Was the dragon skull still in one piece?

Would his remaining fourteen axe brother, orc warriors be enough to exact revenge?

The tunnel finally opens out into the brightly lit cavern. 

Thereanthor’s huge skull is intact but down on the floor and standing atop it is the big, bearded, armoured human they called Marlon, Dwarven war-hammer in hand.

Wait… Not just big. Massive!

He’s somehow grown to the size of an ogre!

Scattered around the, still intact, skull, lie the dead bodies of all his orc comrades: The warrior elites. The sworn guardians of the skull, their axes still in their hands.

Slaughtered by the humans!

Betrayed!

They’d left two of the adventurers; the human witch and Elven trickster miles back in the tunnel. They could be dealt with later. 

Of the others; one of the Clerics is standing far back near the opposite, rubble strewn wall. while the other, armoured one and the young Barbarian are somehow floating high above them in the air. The weird stick golem is nowhere to be seen.

“Death to the humans!” Whinhose finds himself roaring as they all surge forward.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, the massive human raises his War-hammer, in both hands, high above his head, and swings it down directly onto the skull.

Lightning erupts from the skull, engulfing the giant human and sending arcs of electricity into all within thirty feet.

The pain is incredible!

Still, they have sworn to protect the skull. A blood vow to Obdurate; chief amongst chiefs. 

Despite their burns and squinting through the flare, they rush forward to, what they now all know to be, certain death.

After both battles are done, the party search the thirty-odd orc bodies. Their equipment is of good quality but not valuable enough to warrant keeping. Some do have some unused potions and all have coin purses.

15 Potions of Bull’s strength

Money: 271gp, 367sp, 693cp

Plus the magical equipment you gave them from the Death-worshippers etc.

A suit of Leather armour
2 x Two-handed Scythes

A suit of Studded Leather armour

4 x Two-handed Miner's Picks

Reflections

Finally free from the cloying stench of the dung pits and with relative safety in sight, Bastien felt comfortable enough to relax for a few moments.

He carefully unclasped the leather straps that held his armour firm and placed it carefully on the ground beside the pool he'd found in the fast moving stream. His plate had picked up a few dents and scratches in the caves but had held up well overall. A sturdy and trusted partner. Picking up handfuls of coarse sand, Bastien scraped off the worst of the sewer muck and wiped the sections dry using some large leaves he'd found further upstream.

Then it was time for himself. Jumping in the freezing pool shocked him out of his daydream but he lasted long enough to scrub himself until the stink seemed to be mostly gone. Clambering out he wrapped himself in a blanket and gazed thoughtfully at his reflection in the now still pool.

He needed a shave and a haircut - an easy fix at the next town - but he looked gaunt, and the bags under his eyes spoke volumes to his fatigue. He knew his friends needed a rest as much as he did, especially Marlon who had given so much of himself in their recent dealings with the Nerull worshippers and grey cloaks. Bastien was pleased they had thwarted the evil doers plans, but knew they would only regather their strength for some other nefarious aim. They had to be stopped once and for all.

With a rye smile, he acknowledged the niggling doubt that their escape had been too easy. What - or who - had been waiting for them down the other tunnels? He shuddered at the thought.

Suddenly another thought interrupted his reverie, appearing from who knows where. Looking down at his fingernails, Bastien wondered...

Had he remembered to wash his hands?

Akkbar's Revenge Experience

Although you missed/avoided Akkbar, the Party played smart, succeeded in their mission and destroyed Thereanthor's skull. With victories, clever tactic rewards and mission completion bonuses, Everyone climbed another level.
Double figure levels for Bastien, Nitendae and Volkon!
:)

Bastien: 51,480 (Level:10)

Volkon: 53,401 (Level:10)

Nitendae: 52,931 (Level:10)

Marlon: 23,532 (Level:7)

Demitasse: 22,698 (Level:7)

Sereena: 23,832 (Level:7)

21st September!

We have a date!

So, depending on Claire's last minute secret plans, I'll see you all down the 'Cottage of Doom'TM in about ten weeks.

I've started writing the adventure and should easily be finished in about eleven weeks.

:)

A really bad start

Amazingly, despite the cave-in and the frenetic battle against both the Orc guardians and assorted dark forces of evil, all seven of you are still alive.

After joining forces with the surviving orcan warriors, you managed to drive out the Drow, the Death-worshippers and the Black-cloaks. You even managed to kill their Dragon disciple leader, all six of the evil Duegar dwarves and the Ogre zombies.

The priests Bastien and Demitasse, managed to heal all your wounds before they prayed to their chosen gods and slept. They even curried some good will by healing many of the thirty-odd Orc warriors trapped with you.

A group of about a dozen of those orcs now stand guard at the gaping tunnel mouth with several torches semi-illuminating the large, rubble strewn cavern.

It’s been slightly over eight hours since the last encounter and, despite the crushing feelings of despair in your stomachs, everyone in the Party are spell ready and fighting fit…

Five times in two years

After an academic full time course done part time and a part time job done sometimes, I’m finally free  to properly waste some actual free time.
Is everyone available in September for the fifth part of our ongoing adventure?
Scott’s suggested the weekends of the 7th and 21st.
Any takers?

Module 5

Started designing the 5th module cover...

Do you guys think you can handle a beholder yet?
:S