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