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- Name: Racking Relegation
- Setting: Forgotten Realms - Faerun
- Time Frame: Fantasy
- Genre: Fantasy (d20)
- Progress Level: D&D = Dungeons and Dragons
- Life: All common races and monsters of Faerun
- Plot: TBD
- Goals:
- Young men seeking adventure
- Dungeon crawl
- "Give me dice!"
- Stay consistent
- Roleplaying
- Characters:
Character Players
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Darr
(deceased) son of Baddon, a dwarf fighter played by Gamble
Original character concept by Jon H. |
Nauthiz,
"Craver of Pain" is a
Half-orc monk played by Obi |
Roondar, a gnome sorcerer (deceased) played by Matt |
Sparrow, a human ranger played by Chris |
Amalar,
Human cleric played by Clinton original character concept by Curtis |
Bill, Dwarf fighter-mage played by Matt |
Hygelac, half-orc barbarian NPC (deceased) |
John, human fighter played by Gamble |
Pheruzius,
a human sorcerer (deceased) played
by Matt |
|
|
Galbreath, a human sorcerer played by Noah
(left party) |
Vorlax, bonesmasher, a half-orc barbarian played by Mike H.
(left party) |
|
Topo, a half-elf rogue played by Brad
(left party) |
Dungeon Mastered by Manny |
Hero Backgrounds
|
Darr,
son of Baddon Played by Jon
Darr was raised an only child in a
fair-sized and established underground Dwarven community within the mountain
range called "North Wall," near Shaar. His father, Baddon, was a prominent
political leader within the community who, at least during the majority of
his career, was considered wise and just and was generally well liked by
many. It is no surprise then that Darr's early education focused on
politics. His father's wishes, and Darr's own early interests, were that
Darr be groomed to eventually assume a prominent place within the community
as had his father before him. However, to his father's disappointment, it
eventually became obvious that Darr simply did not possess his father's
natural political skills and public charisma.
In the hope that Darr could still find a place in a leadership role after
all, and with the lad having grown larger and stronger than most Dwarves his
young age, Darr was pushed into (the mandatory) military service at an
earlier age than usual. There, due to his size and native intelligence, the
martial and weapons training seemed to come to him almost naturally. With
seemingly little effort on his part, he began to excel both in his formal
military training and the casual, but often painful(!), mock duels and
wrestling matches common among the military cadets. It is useful to note
here that these may have been even more challenging than usual due to the
jealousy with which his older peers viewed Darr; preferring to think of his
successes more as "privileges granted" him for his young age and father's
political power than the earned victories they truly were. Needless to say,
Darr's continued success in his early military training, combined with his
abnormally young age at the time, served more to alienate Darr from the rest
of his cadet class than to form any lasting bonds with them.
Upon completion of formal training, his first "strike team" was, as
tradition dictated, filled with grizzled veteran military "lifers." Somehow,
the unusual combination of career military Dwarf and too-young "privileged
shortbeard," as they liked to call Darr, worked. Career military, after
years of dwelling at the farthest fringes of the community's "established"
underground territory, was commonly considered by society as being somewhat
"uncouth," and often seemed closest in philosophy to the orcs, goblins, and
other creatures that they regularly fought. It was in this remote and
insulated little community that Darr formed the strongest personal
connections of his young life and perhaps should have found his permanent
home and life's work. However, the surfacing of an important factor
prevented this. Although his fighting talent was apparent, especially after
the practiced veterans had "un-learned" him of the "useless book learning"
taught in his formal training, Darr actually found the constant killing
distateful. The regular actions of his fellow team members, who had a very
practical outlook on this particular topic due to "the nature of their
jobs," often found odds with Darr's personal moral philosophy. The older
Dwarves didn't question the need for what they did; they simply acted. Darr
on the other hand was often accused of "thinking too much" when he brought
this topic up. And he learned to keep it to himself.
During Darr's military service, trouble arose back home involving his
father's career. A rival council member, who seemed most often to hold an
opinion exactly contrary to Baddon's, gained in power. Eventually, to both
disgrace Baddon and to rid himself of a second potentially troublesome
rival, this evil Dwarf conspired to the murder of a fellow council member
and managed to frame Darr's father with the heinous crime. After a long and
painful process, during which Baddon was imprisoned and disgraced and his
wife beset by mean-spirited hecklers, the Dwarven community decided the
worst fate for Baddon possible: he would be stripped of his good Dwarven
name and exiled from the community for which he had given his life's work.
Facing what was to him an obviously unacceptable fate, Baddon chose death
instead and took his life by his own hand. Darr's mother followed her
husband to the grave shortly thereafter when her health gave way to her
grief, and Dwarves who had been close family friends for many years turned
their backs on her.
Because of Darr's isolation from the main Dwarven society while with his
strike team, he escaped much of the pain of disgrace during this period.
However, once his mandatory military service was over (having decided that a
life of killing did not suit him) Darr tried to return to his place in
regular society. As if the grief and pain at the loss of both parents was
not enough, as well as the confusion surrounding his father's involvement in
a murder, he found himself being shunned by his fellow Dwarves. His former
military classmates were particularly cruel to him as he tried to find his
way within the suddenly callous Dwarven society. Try as he might, Darr found
himself unable to advance into a career or ultimately even to support
himself as no opportunities were provided to him.
The only positive thing to happen to Darr during this painful period was
Diesa. They had known each other from an early age and had maintained casual
contact through the years, even writing each other occasionally during the
extended absences of Darr's military service. Upon his discharge, Diesa grew
increasingly angry as she witnessed their society treat Darr with undeserved
callousness. The couple grew closer and eventually decided to put the
Dwarven community behind them. Finding an understanding cleric, they married
and left the community they had called home for their entire lives.
Once into the "outland" (i.e. above ground), they settled into a frosty
mountain outpost far from anyone, where Darr took up mining while enlarging
a small natural cave. It was a harsh existence at first, but Darr was able
to unearth enough precious metal, iron, and gemstones to trade for
necessities during his regular supply trips to a nearby human village. They
lived this way for many years in relative happiness, growing to enjoy the
solitude and beauty of the high mountain passes and crystal ponds of their
home. Diesa even gave birth to a little girl during these years, Dagna
(called "Little Nugget" by Darr), who became the joy of Darr's existence. At
first to please Dagna, but later as a way to increase his trading power
among the humans, Darr began to experiment with forming the metals and gems
he discovered into jewelry, and he became quite adept at it considering he
was untrained. After living many peaceful years in this manner, disaster
struck. The mine collapsed, killing Diesa and Dagna both, who were bringing
Darr his lunch at precisely the wrong time. Darr managed to escape by slowly
and painstakingly digging himself out through the collapsed exit, but he now
feels solely responsible for the accident and resulting deaths of his wife
and daughter (as it was his ceiling supports that failed during the
cave-in).
Bitter at the deaths of his loved ones, he now feels himself a failure on
all fronts: first at the possibility of any political career when he was
very young, then when he walked away from the military path his father had
set for him, next when he could not even fit into normal Dwarven society,
and finally as a miner, a husband, and a father. Bordering on pious his
whole life, even at his very worst being careful to show nothing but respect
for the Great Dwarffather, Moradin, Darr has now even forsaken his faith as
he himself feels forsaken and alone. After unearthing the corpses for proper
burial, Darr says goodbye to the only place that he had ever been truly
happy, a place that would never be "home" again. Vowing never to form
anything of beauty again with his hands and destroying his jeweler's trade
tools, he sets out with his packmule
Beelee to pursue the only thing he feels he may have ever excelled
at: killing. But perhaps it's his own death, and the resulting end to a
lifetime filled with ill fit and pain, that he desires more than anything .
. .
|
NAUTHIZ
Played by Obi
FROM THE CHRONICLES OF THE CRAVER, the 89th
NAUTHIZ , With great doubt do I talk about my past. It is not an easy tale,
for it begins always with pain. North of here, in neutral terrain between
orc and human, lies my monast, the Wo- Tan. The Wo-Tan served as place for
decision, place for justice, the caretakers of the balance of my two bloods.
No one warred against my monast, no one would dare, orc or human. , For
centuries the Wo-Tan, utilized a warrior , the hand of wrath "the mediator
of justice", the only hand allowed upon the blade. , It is he who taints
himself in evil blood , to wash the rest of the brotherhood. , Only he who
walks the path of Dol, pain. , Only he who can lift his hand in Tyr,
revenge. , He is named at birth Nauthiz, and his line is a long thread
brimming with agony. It is a difficult stone to carry, but alas we must. If
not, evil devour us, like raw dripping flesh. , Two score year ago, the last
Nauthiz before me, died judging the penitence of a criminal, an orc
chieftain who had the habit of raping women within the terrain of peace. A
successor could not be found, when panic nearly devoured the Wo-Tan, my
mother appeared at the monast in great pain, in great labor pain. , I came
into this existence crawling through a tunnel of pain, my mother's life was
my first meal. And when she cry out in pain, misery, and finally death, so
did Thurisaz, acting as Nauthiz, did prophesize, seeing future, that I was
the next incarnation of the Nauthiz..., The Craver of Pain, From the moment
the prophecy came from the Thurisaz, I was not raised or sired, I was
constructed. Built from the muscle and flesh of my two blood- into steel,
wood, and fire. , In the life of the Nauthiz, the path of learning must
come, as the Thurisaz takes the post during the stead. Learning the world,
one learn to judge, smite pain to those fortunate deserving- whether they
please or not. , I am on that path, the path of pain, for that I face this
world., May their god deliver those that oppose me. |
Roondar
(Deceased) Played by Matt
|
Amalar Played by Curtis Backstory:
Amalar was a diligent scholar from a young
age. He attended The Centre for Timeless Knowledge, a school run by
the clergy of Labelas Enoreth, The Sage at the Sunset. Somewhat to
the chagrin of his teachers, he had almost no ambition (even for an elf) to
apply his learning to any practical purpose. He seemed content to never
leave the schools. In fact, he never did. After receiving an advanced
degree, he joined the church of Lebelas Enoreth to follow in his teaches
footsteps and began teaching at the very same school.
After teaching for nearly a
century, his colleagues strongly encouraged him to get some worldly
experience so he could become a better teacher and cleric of Labelas.
Telling him that the university could use first hand accounts of
[adventuring place] to add to their timeless lore finally convinced him to
leave the school. Reluctantly, Amalar set out to see thins new region
firsthand.
Amalar was also told that over 200 years
ago, another cleric of Labelas, Raesel Moondaes, went on a similar mission
of learning to [region]; but never returned. Amalar was asked to see if he
could find out any information on what may of happened to her.
Se he set off with a modest amount of gold
funded by the university, simple weapons for defense, and a journal to
record his findings in. He also wore his family cloak. Although this cloak
radiates magic when detected, it has never shown any special properties; but
Amalar is convinced it does an above-average job of keeping him warm at
night. |
Sparrow
Played by Chris
Background Story:
Son to a High ranking general of Halruaa a
boy enjoyed a rich life. From the birth to age 7, the boy had little to do
for himself. The boy spent much of his time sitting in a tall tree near the
town gate. He wanted to be the first to see his father riding home from the
war. He would often whistle at passing merchants and travelers to pass the
time. His mother soon started calling him Sparrow when she would have to
call him down from the tree.
A age 7, near the end of the war Sparrow
was kidnapped. Sparrow was to be held for ransom by the enemy in exchange
for Sparrow’s father to back down from the western front. When Sparrow’s
father got news of this he refused to give in to their demands. Instead he
took a large company of men into enemy territory to save his son.
Sparrow’s father was successful in
retrieving his son. Before he returned, the enemy conducted a huge attack
on the western front suspecting that the demands would be met. The western
front was lost and the army took heavy casualties.
Sparrow’s father was blamed and as a
consequence Sparrow’s family (father, mother, and son) was banished to the
forest.
Sparrow spent much of his life hunting for
the family after that time. He learned to live off the land and hunt down
all types of animals. He became particularly good at fending off the vermin
in the nearby wilderness. Even after all that had happened, the trees still
felt like a safe place for Sparrow to spend his free time. Sparrow still
tried to maintain some of the luxuries as he had as a kid with little
success.
Every so often Sparrow would be sent into
town to sell fur and to buy supplies that can not be acquired in the
forest. At the age of 14, he once mad the mistake of explaining to curious
townsman who he was. Sparrow managed to escape after some beating. As he
ran a rock struck him in the back of the head. This left a scar where no
hair would grow. He limped home cursing his own name.
At age 16 Sparrow’s mother died. He vowed
he would not waste his life in banishment. He reported to his father that
he would soon leave his home in order to reclaim his father’s past honor.
His father knew he could not stop him. Sparrow’s father feared for his
son’s safety and began teaching him how to defend himself. Sparrow’s father
also gave his son a set of studded leather armor left over from his time as
a general.
Sparrow stayed home to take care of his
father until the age of 17 when his father died. Sparrow left the home he
was banished to and went out to reclaim what his father had earned.
Physical Description (Very Quick):
He is clothed in animal fur. A large dear skin covers
his torso. Another skin is fashioned into loose fitting pants. He has a
pack on his back with a bedroll and heavy blanket attached underneath it.
There is a large well used dagger strapped to his chest and a longbow over
his shoulder. |
Galbreath
played by Noah |
Vorlax, bonesmasher played by Mike H.
Valdor Bonecrusher is a dim-witted, crass, half orc barbarian who is very
pious in his worship of Gruller, Lord of Chaos in Battle. Although not the
sharpest tool in the shed, he is wise beyond his years and incredible
strong.
He was from a tribe of Orci who raided near Three Swords. Upon gaining
experience in his clan, he was ousted due to jealousy and racial hatred
toward this human side. He betrayed his clan after his ousting, and the
military of 3 Swords wiped them out. He then became a sell-sword in the city
until the coming of the darkness...
He was cast out of his Orcish tribe because of his half humanity, but still
has much of the manners of an Orc. His favorite hobbies are drinking,
chasing whores, and of course brawling in bars, and swinging his great sword
outside of them.
He can be a trustworthy friend if impressed by someone's prowess in battle.
He would eventually like to become a priest of Gruller after he has enough
Barbarian abilities to smash his foes.
|
Pheruzius
(Deceased) Played by Matt
A wave of a hand, a few words, a splash of blood, and magic has been
wrought.
Or so they say.
In the eyes of a mage, there is so much more. The words and gestures... All
for show. Stage magic if you will.
In the eyes of an ascended magician, such as myself, there is so much more.
The pulling of the threads of reality, the warping of life itself, changing
life into death and back again.
I do this every day.
How, you may ask, does a normal human being one day, suddenly, gain so much
power?
Well my friend. It is a long and daunting task.
To forget everything you want to believe is true is no simple feat. One must
force himself, consciously and not, to see beyond the conveniently placed
reality that you know. This alone could takes years.
But I digress.
You are not here to listen to my hardships, of my coming into power...
You want to know my history correct? Of course you do.
Well why should I tell you? My past contains more secrets than you could
possibly imagine.
So I suppose I should start at the beginning.
As I am sure you have already guessed. I am a mage, a sorcerer if you will.
It is a family gift. I am descended from a race of sorcerers. If you could
not perform even a simple trick, you were cast out. Never to be heard from
again.
This is becoming more commonplace unfortunately. With each passing
generation our power slowly dwindles.
I have, however, found some unconventional ways to sustain my power.
Blood, the life essence of magic. Drinking it retains my sanity, and some
semblance of power.
While I am on the subject of blood perhaps I should elaborate on my family
tree. You see, I am descended from a race of vampires. The Tremere to be
exact.
Do not be afraid, I do not bite necks or turn into a bat. I merely collect
blood from willing individuals and keep it with me.
But why should that concern you?
I don't know. If you don't want to hear this then why did you ask?
Mortals are such strange creatures...
Home Community
Pheruzius's home community consisted of Arcane Compound where communities
tend to be close- knit and focused on a single interest. Pheruzius's
community has up to 2000 people at times.
Climate
Pheruzius feels at home in high altitude and rugged lands of the North Wall
mountain range where vegetation is sparse above the tree line, but forests
and meadows predominate lower down. Pheruzius grew up with cold winters, but
warm summers.
Education
Pheruzius showed an affinity for the arcane arts. Pheruzius has special
military training which may include artillery, armorer, underdark scout..
Pheruzius studied "defenses against the dark arts" and learned ways to fight
monsters and battle the influence of black magic.
Events
Perhaps Pheruzius was menaced by a dangerous creature who were from the
North pass of the North Wall range. Pheruzius displayed an innate talent for
arcane spellcasting. Others took notice. Pheruzius's home community is
faced with a new a schism which tears existing mages apart.
Family
Pheruzius was raised as part of a arcane order. While Pheruzius's "family"
didn't have much direct income, it had access to resources through its mage
guild. The oldest members control Pheruzius's family. Pheruzius's family
relies on magical protection. Pheruzius's family takes actions detrimental
to the community. Regardless of Pheruzius's family's actual ethics, public
opinion is so ingrained about his family that it's essentially unchangeable.
Public opinion is accurate
Pheruzius's family has no specific political stance. Pheruzius's family
believes in a arcane movement considered dangerous by the community at
large. In general, Pheruzius's family is upstanding, but one or more members
of family are known to be disreputable. Pheruzius's family is at the very
pinnacle of social standing in the community. Pheruzius's family is rumored
to have produced an ancestor who ascended to had meaningful contact with the
gods in some way.
Relationships
Both of Pheruzius's parents are alive and healthy. Pheruzius has
2 older siblings and 2 younger siblings. At least one, maybe more
great-grandparent is living. Make a note of how many and who they are.
Select again to check on your grandparents. Pheruzius knows dozens of
relatives of various generations. Pheruzius is a loner by choice or
circumstance. A top-notch instructor taught Pheruzius more advanced arcane
techniques.
Pheruzius's family has earned the enmity of a group of mages.
|
TOPO
played by Brad
Home Community TOPO's fringe community was a settlements consisting of 30
halfelves, half-orcs, and other mixed breeds and outcasts.,
Climate TOPO feels at home anyplace where precipitation and vegetation
are rare. This could include anything from a sandy wasteland to a rugged
field of lava. TOPO lives where conditions are warm year-round., Education
TOPO learned the religious beliefs of his community or family. Perhaps he
embraced them, or perhaps he rejected them. TOPO spent time seeking animal
skins or meat in the wilderness. TOPO learned to illustrate, sculpt, dance,
or create art in other ways., Events TOPO was born under a strange moon, a
comet in the sky, or some other phenomenon. TOPO broke the law and got
caught and suffered some form of punishment, or TOPO learned how to dodge
the consequences and survive. A significant monster or villain threatens
TOPO's home community and is eventually either destroyed or driven off.,
Family TOPO's family owns at least a small dwelling or can make rent
payments without significant concern. The family's income slightly exceeds
its needs. The oldest members control TOPO's family. TOPO's family trains
actively in matters martial and is prepared for combat with a few days of
last-minute preparation. TOPO's family is known for involvement in the
community and acting to help others. TOPO's family’s ethical reputation
matches their private ethics. TOPO's family has no specific political
stance. TOPO's family openly venerates one deity while privately venerating
another. Individuals are treated without regard to TOPO's family name.
Members of TOPO's family may be guilty of crimes, or wrongly convicted of
them. Either way, other members of the community treat TOPO poorly as a
result. TOPO's family produced a great military leader who was eventually
defeated., Relationships Both of TOPO's parents are deceased, and the player
chooses how the parents passed away. TOPO is an only child TOPO remember his
grandparents, but they have passed away. TOPO has no living relatives beyond
the ones already mentioned. TOPO is a loner by choice or circumstance.
TOPO's favorite instructor of note is of a half-orc. Someone in TOPO's
family hates and fears TOPO, either openly or secretly. |
NPC Backgrounds |
Hygelac
(Deceased) Child-like and Nieve half-orc barbarian with a
need for instruction and guidance. Hygelac's family abandoned him at
birth and he lacks formal education. He is polite for a half-orc
barbarian and respects others who treat him nicely. He forms
attachments to others quite easily and is protective of his friends.
Rarely rages cause unless absolutely provoked, fails to see the need for
violence, but can become quite a valuable sword wielder when necessary.
Hygelac likes small animals and furry critters. |
Tharimis
Human Monk friend of Nauthiz
|
Played by Manny |
Adventure Logs |
Racking Relegation Log |
Adventure 1 - Town of Darkness
The journey across these lands, though uneventful, did tire me. Long
traveling from my monast did educate me, but dwindled my body. I arrived
at the town of Channath at a perilous time. While walking the streets,
seeking rest and shelter, a warrior- battle weary and desperate, marched
into town with his squire. Planting his horse in the middle of town,
barely missing me, he warned the town of an impending darkness about to
swallow the city. Surely a madman I thought, watching a dwarf walk by
with a mule, eyed suspiciously by a mage. ( I would later be crestfallen
to hear of the dwarf’s life, that of love and opportunity lost, of a
strange attachment to his mule, and a melancholy that would rival that
of Hagal, the world bearer.)
Yet even a madman can have moments of sanity. For as I was about to ask
him more about this darkness- so did it descend on all of us. In the
pitch black, I retreated into the tavern behind me, tripping over the
same mage. I raced into the tavern, trying to warn the others but only
finding resistance and the persistent pestering of the bar help.
Arriving at back of the tavern, I was shocked to meet one of my
superiors Tharamis. Even more of a shock when he burdened me with the
news that I, Nauthiz, the Craver of Pain, was the last monk standing.
Luckily, the adrenalin of battle unified my thoughts.
The mage Pheruzius attempted an escape from the tavern at the end of a
crossbow. I tried to disarm him but failed, allowing him to escape into
the town (later I found of his attack on a defenseless donkey). A
commotion outside, a trap laid by Amalar and Topo, shot three unearthly
creatures into the tavern. The skill of the last two monks of Wo-tan
repelled the invaders, bringing them the mercy of eternal peace.
Outside, the darkness cleared after Tharamis and I rounded the tavern.
One immensely large creature remained, and several warriors gathered to
try and defeat the enemy. These included the valiant cleric Amalar, the
nearly beserking dwarf Dar, a cooperative rogue named Topo, the quick
thinking ranger Sparrow, and the questionable mage- who was only too
happy to retreat.
The creature nearly killed Tharamis, and I was put in a positional
unenviable by any warrior- that of choosing between his order of retreat
and not leaving a fellow monk trapped in battle. Only the courage of a
cleric saved my brother, as I shot a volley of arrows at the creature.
After a prolonged struggled, apparently killing the two dwarves, the
creature gave us the opportunity of retreats- a wise move. For how can
justice bring pain to a deserving brotherhood, if it loses its weapon on
the earth? Amalor returned to save the two dwarves moments after
the creature moved away. |
Adventure 2 - Defending the Inn written on the 16th day of
Kaythorn
In those naive early years when the news of the fall of the Wo-Dan had
not reached the doors of other monasts; my journey swelled with peril
and challenge.
Our next day at the town of Channath near 3 Swords proved to test us in
both the enemy without and within. On that day our barely united band of
adventurers spent the day searching the town; mobilizing it against the
invasion of darkness that we learned was returning on that night.
Leaving the safety of the forest with my injured brother, Tharimus,
proved to be risky. Searching with a questionable rogue, and Sparrow, we
searched for survivors of the carnage, rations of food, and gear. In the
tavern we found a thief scurrying for gold (such is the ways of
civilization, no control- taking advantage of the circumstance- for that
is why I seek the Core). We confronted him but still he kept on picking
the tavern's floor for gold pieces. Finally, we left him to his fate.
Topo and I searched a dwelling across the Inn. Within I spotted
something hiding in shadow, confronting it- a club came toward the rogue
and I.
Meanwhile the fate of Pheruzius continued to be cast in cold steel.
Rather than aid us; the foolish young wielder decided to antagonize
every darkness weary/ magic paranoid resident in town. Entering the
tavern he remarkably convinced the thief to simply bolt out the door-
taking the gold for himself. A feat he performed another time as well.
Then retribution came in the form of a well placed arrow.
As Pheruzius confronted the first chapter of his well deserved fate;
Darr ,son of Badden, decided to explore the Inn- finding survivors as
the sun slowly descended about us. The safety and clarity of day
contracted against the descent of darkness. It was no surprise that our
dwarven miner wrestled with the presence of Darla. Perhaps this was what
made his great axe begin to stray from many arks. For I have heard that
to see a dwarf’s heart one must only observe the condition and accuracy
of his steel. This race, these people, this world, relies far too much
on steel- while the body is truly the strongest of elements.
Beside Darr ,son of Badden, Amalor marched, spreading a calmness to the
citizens of Channath. Always curious and willing to help- the cleric
proved to be a valuable asset to our group. If not for him, surely our
bodies would have been carrion fodder long ago. Since the priest saved
Darr’s life, the fighter pledged his axe and path to him; a
responsibility that the humble holy servant did not abuse nor ignore-
treating his debtor with the same pallor as any of us.
As Topo and I questioned the intruder, he clubbed me with a fierce arm.
I clenched my fist, great hand of judgment, slamming him back as Topo
shot a volley. My shoulder pulsing hard, we ran after the conniving thug
as he slipped into an alley beside the inn.
“I do not think I will leave!” I later heard that Pheruzius said at the
wrong end of a tensed arrow and quiver. The woman in shadow had cocked
it, intent on defending herself from more supernatural raiders. Now even
Thurisaz, my mentor, taught me to know when to and when not to cross the
line of an arrow. Apparently our accursed mage had no such teaching.
Thus as he refused to leave, the tip of an arrow showed him precisely
the way out- right through his shoulder.
Meeting at the inn, my companions found it curious that the mage had an
arrow sticking out of his shoulder. While Amalor questioned the victim
and I attended to the needs of my superior, Tharimus, Darr, Son of
Badden, looked at Pheruzius with a questionable brow, so obvious in
members of the dwarven race. He looked down at the quiver that had stuck
Belee and a connection began to form.
Before night came the companions finished their search of the town;
finding a gnome sorcerer , a rude dwarf female with a bellows for a
voice (I could never tell the difference between a dwarven male and a
female), and a cowardly braggart wielding a crossbow we dubbed
ironically “the mayor”. Amalor, always seeing that justice be done,
questioned the mysterious archer who had severely wounded Pheruzius- his
conclusion was that the woman had acted in apparent self defense;
intimidated by the man who preferred to not only dwell, but to to think,
in shadows.
The talk of arrows, of confronting Pheruzius with these actions, he
reacted by arming his crossbow; brought a fury to Darr. The fighter
accused Pheruzius of shooting his defenseless dungeoneering mule, Belee.
With the keen eye of a craftsman, Darr had matched the bolt in the
magi’s bow with the one taken from the mule's sore rump.
In all my paths to the core of my existence, I have unfortunately
encountered many an angered dwarf; but never angrier than Darr avenging
his beloved mule. With his curved axe, he chased Pheruzius about the
Inn- with not a soul attempting to stop him.
Your humble Craver of Pain, servant of the Wo-Dan, wrestled with the
need for justice and the need of an ally. The thug Hellgerd had sought
shelter in our inn. My need for blood became paramount. To the point
that I sought council with Tharimus. He advised patience and non-action-
for we did need his mighty clubbing arm against the army soon to come in
darkness. My shoulder, however, did not agree.
Darr’s axe fell like the mighty decision of an executioner. Biting a
rage worthy of the Half- Orc Barbarians that raid our lands; the Son of
Badden catapulted the dead mage’s body out into the night. There he was
left to his utmost castigation; food for the beings enshrouded by the
abyss itself.
That abyss could no longer be denied, the sun sank into the far ataobs
of the west. We boarded up the two doors at the front and back of the
inn turned keep. Many of us wounded, we posted the best watch we could.
Darr and Tharamis went to rest as the cleric retreated to his hallowed
prayers and ceremonies. For me, a soul raised hearing evocations to the
mind and spirit, it was strange to hear gods being called from heavens
and earth.
Luckily for all of us a ranger knows how to create a defense against the
enemy. Sparrow, our human ranger, appeared everywhere; encouraging the
defenders, setting watches, securing possible breeches, and inspecting
posts from where Topo and he could volley at the invading horde.
With a crash the two doors of our inn/ keep burst in, vomiting a mass of
putrid creatures summoned by fear itself. Tharamis, I, the dwarven
sleeper, Hygelac, a dim witted but alarmingly loyal half- orc with a
sword the size of a dragon’s canine whom we brought into the inn,
defended the rear doorway.
Darr, Dorla, the thug Hellgard, and Sparrow held the line at the
entrance of the inn. Topo and Amalor provided essential holds at the
center. The cleric cured wounds where needed- energizing Darr, Son of
Badden, and Sparrow, preventing them from falling. Topo, ever the ranged
strategist, stood on a table in the center of the inn, firing at both
front and back when needed.
While Tharamis and I tried to push back the tanned midget hell beasts,
their continuous numbers ate at us as if pushed from out of hell’s
entrails like a long chain of bites and punches.The great Tharamis fell,
and I took a barrage of damage. Hygelac smite them for hurting his
friends, with an anger of an orcan babe who had lost his favorite toy.
The rude dwarven female, Torissa bashed with axe and fist; falling
as I did in the end.
Tragedy then struck the front of the inn. Darr’s cloud of melancholy
must have followed him to Channath. After being healed by Amalor, the
dwarf gripped his axe too quickly- charging down stair at a crowd of
invaders. The weapon slipped- cleaving his wife’s twin sister- in the
back no less as she lay helpless after taking damage. We heard Darr
curse his god’s very loins for smiting him so. Alas who are we to judge
the dice we ourselves have rolled?
Truly the skill of Sparrows flying steel arrows over our heads, and
Hygelac’s nearly obstructive blade, must have saved all of us. Even the
normally reserved Amalor did bash a beast’s head with his Quarterstaff
after healing me where I fell, I was beaten to the point that I could
not even make contact with a creature that stepped over me to attack my
cleric benefactor.
Luckily the horde’s numbers finally diminished and were defeated before
morning. We in the inn counted our honored dead, hoping the next morning
to be finally rid of this menace and the accursed town of Channath. |
Adventure 3 - Tracking Phreuzius
From the Chronicles of the Craver of Pain, written on the events of
17th- 18th day of Kythorn
There is no rest for those who seek the Core of their Existence; that
place of perfect self that my teachers so strived that I reach. Yet how
many trials await on that golden road that leads so far into the self? I
would know soon enough, as we descended into the very bowels of the
earth itself.
The day after our fierce battle with the flesh army at the inn; Tharamis
and I had to heal. My wounds were extensive and did deteriorate me to
the point of collapse. We sought the relative security of the forest to
the north- where once we retreated to in order to escape from the leader
of the darkness that had so beat us back. There in the forest we
attempted to heal one another- with mixed results.
The majority of the group decided to return to town; for reasons that I,
to this day, do not understand. Returning, the inn was secure, and all
the people there requested that we spend another night defending the
town of Channath. We decided to leave; but my brother Tharamis and Topo,
decided to stay in order to heal. He allowed me to leave and warn other
towns of the danger. Deep in my soul, I had not liked that one of my
teachers abandon me to the world. It was only after much later that I
would learn that the Nauthiz must learn alone in the world- without the
direction of another.
When we returned to town we acquired other allies as well. A half-Orc
Barbarian approached us (a shame that my unique race often times chooses
to embrace the ways of the wild- so much power await us in the path of
the Core) and offered his sword to defeat this enemy- his name, Vorlax-
with the title of Bonecrusher no less. Beside him was easily one of the
bravest (or most foolish) elf sorcerers, I have ever had the entertained
pleasure of walking the path with, his name, Galbreath. We would soon
know why...
Finally Sparrow suggested, and decided to follow the sickening trail
that the body of Pheruzius left- as he was dragged to the lair of these
fleshed enemies. Little did we know that in his death the mage would aid
us more than in life.
Following the trail, a spore that even the wise and astute ranger,
Sparrow, had some difficulty following across a river. Where we
apparently learned that dwarves, like the weapons they forge, fear being
rusted by water. I had no idea they were so delicate to rivers and
oceans. This begs the question which I have never asked any of them- how
often do they bathe?
We all made motions to cross the small river, most of us crossing it
with relative ease. All except Darr, Son of Badden, he outright refused;
much to our annoyance. Wading across, I had to throw a rope and lead him
across as if leading him to the fires of his doom. Actually if we would
have been leading him to that he would have felt at home.
Making Darr’s crossing without incident. the trail lead to a large
entrance that descended downward. Typical of my barbarian brethren,
Vorlax rushed into the main entrance- without thought to markings or
anything of the sort. He must have believed, he had dark vision, that
all simply follow him. This we did. Finding nothing except a band of
wild dogs snarling at us. Beginning with Galbreath, who immediately
attacked in the unsorcerer-like style, we defeated them relatively
easily. Yet in the end one was able to howl before dying- and this may
have alerted the enemy to our presence.
Upon a quick search we found a narrow staircase to another level. With
great confidence, Vorlax descended into the darkness, I followed- trying
to obtain an efficient marching order. However with such adventurers as
Galbreath and Roondar, such planning is inadvertently defeated. On the
second level we encountered more of the creatures which leveled Channath;
beating them back on two fronts after Vorlax and I leaped into the fray.
I tumbled past a few to get a jump from behind them.
A wide slope lead to our next level of challenge. It began with us
descending the slope, no simple task with the fighter Darr about. A
seasoned dungeoneer, Darr wished to use ropes and pegs in order to
descend to the next level. True the dwarf thought of escape when
everyone only thought of exploration and conquest- but no one said
anything about leading a mule into the challenges ahead.
Galbreath nearly killed himself when he foolishly slipped down the
slope while trying to climb to retrieve some torches.
After we all descended the treacherous slope, we all refused to bring
the mule Beelee. Thus our fighter had to leave his companion- no matter
what level of skill the mule may have had in exploring dungeons. As Darr
descended the slope, I spotted something moving in the impenetrable
darkness; I informed the dwarf, and he soon brought the attention of a
magic wielding skeleton warrior. We fought from a distance as many of
them came at us. We all fought bravely with Sparrow slicing the air with
his arrowheads and keeping a keen eye on our backs. Again the Sorcerer
Galbreath attacked as if a mighty young warrior possessed his soul.
Wounded almost near death, he begged Amalor for healing but the cleric
refused- saying that he would hold onto his spells for when there would
be a greater need. That indeed would come soon enough...
We attacked a second front of skeletal warriors, Hygelac and Vorlax
rushed the onslaught- with Darr slamming into the fray with his axe.
Critical problems usually come in sets. Vorlax dropped his great sword
moments before Darr dropped his great axe. Both Vorlax and Darr lost
their weapons to the enemy, their skeletal opponent took both weapons
and made off into a tunnel. Amalor turned two of the undead and they
fled into the antechamber.
As Sparrow shot at some approaching skeleton warriors, they cut the
ropes leading down to a wounded Roondar. Then the skeletons
attempted to leap the across the slope towards sparrow. One made
it amazingly enough, the other fell to where Roondar rest.
I have purposely left out the actions of Roondar, for so much I am
sure has already been written about him (and by him). To the chroniclers
I say that the gnome sorcerer is only a volley of showmanship- perhaps
even a good acrobat. If you are of strong mind then you will not believe
what he has written about our adventures. One episode, however, is true-
when he leaped the chasm to escape a skeletal warrior. Few saw the gnome
leap a distance impossible for any of his race; by the gods had I and
others only seen that lone torch leap across that stone maw. A shame
that this glorious feat had to be cheapened by the gnome repeating his
tale of the accomplishment to everyone constantly.
The dark cloud that Darr had carried ever since that day in his mine,
where tragedy struck just before lunch- must have caught me in its grip.
Perhaps influenced by the blind rages of Vortax ( a feat I always
believed to be a part of the half-orc’s soul rather than a barbarian’s
ability) I chased after the vile turned undead in the chamber. My fists
served me quite well as I felt bone and magic being crushed despite
their ability to blink in and out of existence.
Unfortunately for me Darr decided to help me defeat the warriors. Yet
when he attacked, his axe, or better his hand, failed him. Darr’s weapon
flew into the rock before us, pieces of stone flew into our face-
throwing the fighter deeper into a rage. He grabbed the weapon, but this
god that these dwarves worships, this moradin, seemed to again abandon
him. Aye what good is a god if he does not serve you? How well our
souls, our minds, our bodies, do serve us without a prayer or an
evocation! Darr pulled the axe out and dropped it. After
picking the axe up once again he swung at the enemy. This moradin must
have also had a grudge against me. The axe swung too wide and cleaved me
in the side- throwing me dangerously close to death’s sweet embrace.
After the great and generous Amalor healed me- I learned that the enemy
had been defeated but shadows still awaited us on still lower levels.
Sparrow was wounded, Galbreath near death, and Roondar excited but also
near death. Vorlax slayed the remaining skeletal warriors in the
area.
|
Adventure 4: Return to the Cave Journal of the Nauthiz,
the Craver of Pain, from his travels and experiences trying to reach the
Core...
In the Monast, the brothers raised me as their own- teaching me the ways
of reaching the Core and the pathways of pain. We lived in an enclosed
world, attempting to reproduce the chaos and war of the outside. Yet
their efforts fell short of such noble goals. I first learned this after
our first battle in the caves near Channath, truly a mouth opened to
Hell itself.
After being felled unconscious by my own comrade’s axe, Sparrow’s
instinct, as my own, dictated that we return to the safety of the
forests that served us so well in the past. This we did, encountering a
few more dogs that Darr and Hygelac quickly dispatched. I remained
shamefully in the rear, as my wounds were too great to offer any
assistance.
In the shadows and relative comfort of the forest, I performed the
Runecar ritual, forever branding my skin with the image of my enemies-
as it has been done among my school for hundreds of years.
During the night Vorlax, the powerful half-orc warrior spotted strange
figures in the night. Luckily Sparrow, ever vigilant, began to awake us.
Yet we barely got to the fight and Vorlax had already slain them all. I
searched the bodies, that of simple savage goblin raiders. I found among
them some gold, a morning star, and seven javelins.
Perhaps due to a racial disgust of them, Darr immediately began to
demand that we go to their village and slaughter all of the occupants.
Other than the undead, the pure evil, or those that have struck upon me,
I will not slaughter a people simply for being born goblin, dragon, or
drow. We all agreed to return to camp and finish our healing, whereupon
all of us attempted to mend one another’s wounds. I also continued my
meditations, coming to a revelation in my learning.
If I was to become the Craver of Pain, the Hand of Justice among my
school- how could I do that without feeling my own pain? To feel the
crisp cold embrace of death, before I hand its mercy to others? Before
being the Craver of Other’s Pain surely I would have to accept and feel
my own suffering in this world. This a fact that we do not pass onto our
initiates, rather we allow them to learn that at their own time, on
their own path.
At the moment of that meditation, I knew that my journey would lead me
to powerful enemies, and impossible situations, that it would be my duty
to pull my psyche, my body, my soul through those tunnels of torture.
The path would be difficult, and near death, yet I knew even in those
meek days of weakness- I would prevail.
After we had healed we spotted another goblin party, of which we
attacked and slaughtered- Vorlax and Darr leading the charge. From the
forest Sparrow spotted victims of the Channath attack. Being lead to
caves we had just come from, they appeared drugged, some unconscious,
and forced against their will to enter those bowels in the earth.
Guarding the procession marched the creature that had almost annihilated
us the first day in Channath. It made a few rounds about the entrance
then marched off into another direction.
Hence began another one of our great debates, on whether we should
return to the cave or warn other villages. Many times the party
threatened to break up, but we all know that the gods, if they do sit
fat on their lofty and presumably omnipotent thrones, would not take
kindly to this. Thus again we returned to the great maw which had nearly
killed us.
Upon entering the second level, with its limiting staircase ripe for an
attack, we encountered more of the accursed flesh beasts. At the time, I
noted that we were quite prone to ambush, and rarely took past threats
into consideration. Luckily they did not try to flank us, but many more
waited just around the other corner. Once again I prevailed though
wounded, using the benefits of wisdom and cunning over leather and
steel.
After defeating the beasts, their numbers dwindling faster since they
had not attacked in mass as they did in the Channath inn. Perhaps they
were sent to intercept us, to wound us down into an easier enemy. For
while many of us attacked, Galbreath and Hygelac especially, more were
to come on the next level.
At the behest of Darr, we once again used his remaining pegs and ropes
to get down the now familiar slope to the cavern’s main level. Darkness
reigned. Getting to the bottom, we found ourselves once again flanked.
Upon our right we encountered skeleton warriors with their fingers of
deadly magic missile. Upon our left, amassed a great garrison of armored
warriors, deadly undead zombie-like creatures in full armor. They
attacked with the fury of demons. We fought valiantly, I on a ledge,
Darr at my back being hit with a barrage of missiles. Sparrow once
cornered, shot his arrows where he could. In a valiant offense, worthy
of our savage primordial race, Vorlax and Hygelac charged the fiends.
Vaulting over stalagmites, the two cut a path through the evil garrison.
At a time we had to protect the valiant Amalor, who healed and attacked
where he could.
However their numbers and force appeared too strong, oh if only I had
had the powers I have now back then, to crush my enemies with the purity
of my present form. In a flurry of blows Roondar fell, as did the nearly
insane sorcerer (for he fought like a warrior rather than a cautious
sorcerer) Galbreath. In a last piercing thrust of his savage sword, with
an arc of evil blood spraying over all of us. My fellow half-orc Vorlax,
fell where he stood, the bodies of many of our comrades about us. Amalor
quickly became the most valuable member of our group.
Our forces depleted pitifully (once again), we decided to retreat from
the cavern to again heal. On our way out, Darr spotted a pit of souls in
the center of the caverns- the very same dragged into the entrance hours
before. Thinking that dwarven cries are not heard by the enemy, Darr
shouted to our company- immediately a cloak of darkness, the same cold
sickly ink we encountered in Channath came over us. Shamefully or
perhaps wisely, with the haste of rabbits chased by wolves we left the
cave to the forest- once again. |
Adventure 5: No Pain, Some Gain
The acceptance of a person’s path in life always makes things
easier. This I realized after I accepted my pains, my wounds, struck
down in the darkness of that cave our band encountered.
As so many of our days began, they began with healing, resting, and
meditation. We returned to the forest which had proven so beneficial
to us in the past. Another one of our famous debates began once
again, as a monk I realize the need to ponder and reflect on action.
But action takes precedence over all others. I grew tired of
waiting, and followed or not- headed for the cave once again with
Sparrow and the great Hygelac leading into that abyss.
On the third trial we found no chosen, as I later learned from
Tharamis, they were called, nor were there bodies in the cave where
we had feld them. Many of us suspected they were doing something
with the bodies. Perhaps feeding on them or something of the sort.
We climbed down the now familiar slope into the chaos beyond. There
to our shock we found the mass of people, collected there for
reasons beyond our comprehension. The dwarf sneered, as was his
usual customs in those days where youth still ran through his blood;
calling it foul devilry. The pile stood oozing from underneath,
where dozens if not hundreds of bodies had been dropped by some sort
of shoot or slide into the chamber. There to feed a supply of evil
that at the time we had no idea of. The conspiracy of darkness
intensified but we deemed it necessary to get those people out of
there. Floor filling with putrid bile and unknown death, oozing
about our feet, made many of us gag and rebuke.
From one cave came what seemed to be a cleric, a man in flowing
robes and great healing power. Yet the repulsive man, instead of
using his abilities for good, to aid us in rescuing this mass of
flesh, he simply healed them just enough to be of use to the evil
hosts of this cave. He called himself the caretaker, and following
the mighty Dar’s slap I followed suit, sending that awful cur into
the darkness within sleep.
Forming a line, advanced by Amalor’s healing, we rescued many of the
people in the cave, sending them to the forest where we had gone
many times for shelter.
We made camp, and all rested from the relatively few wounds we had
received on that mission. The cleric, while not cooperative had not
offered us any other information. In our fury, I knocked him
unconscious, such are the trappings of having orcan blood.
Settling into sleep, the darkness came over us, enveloping our sight
with its blinding ink. Stumbling out of the dark, Darr and I fought
against the undead soldiers which came at us. They were all lead by
two people. One man wielding the darkness and a woman mage that
through magic missiles at us by pointing her finger. Before we could
achieve the upper hand, they retreated back to their cave; robbing
us of the possibility of victory.
|
Adventure 6: Battling the Cave’s Couple
Our band of warriors set out into the cave a 5th time, returning to that
vomit filled place where we had encountered the pit of bodies. Gagging
our way inside, we guarded the three entrances. From above the powerful
couple we encountered the day before attacked us. Always vital to have
the higher ground, they showered us with both darkness and missiles,
while a group of undead came at us.
Discontent among our company caused us many wounds on that day. Darr and
Amalor, while the former is pledged to the other, still quarreled as if
the cave were a playground. This squabble allowed our band to become
bottlenecked in a small corridor, Darr refused to enter. This only
caused his demise, once again at the doors of his Moradin’s realm.
Finding the way cut off, Hygelac and I ran across the arena to the iron
gate, while Sparrow tried to break the line at the exit held by three
magi. They attacked the ranger with both with missiles of energy and
acid, he tried to hide underneath an overhang. Later I learned that he
would begin negotiations with them to save our lives. We made it to the
portcullis and entered, intent on defeating the couple who waited at the
upper most level of the cave. We followed them past their position, over
a dangerous sunken tunnel, and into a chamber. Setting up guards we
waited for them as Amalor used his skills to find us a secret door. An
antechamber appeared to be a simple bedroom but another wall revealed an
entry.
Darr covered the small entrance, his axe at the ready to send anyone to
their doom. However we made a flurry of noise and the enemy was keen to
our presence. The Dwarf, so infuriated by this, pouted on one of the
beds, a help to no one. I will never understand that race, luckily most
of them stay within their labyrinths or mountains.
After Hygelac dispatched one of our foes, a female magi known to us as
Tabitha, blinked into the room. Avoiding all attacks against her, she
appeared in the room telling a certain Ida to get away. With great anger
we told Amalor to release the lock and we entered a lit chamber opening
to a flat room with many pillars. Toward the east wall, a magic rope
dangled. We waited at the bottom of the rope as others scouted the area-
finding nothing. Later the rope disappeared, it must have
been a diversion. |
Adventure 7: The Lucky Mushroom Inn The group prepared for the
night to attempt to meet the group of people from the towns that they
saved. They were going to head in the same direction to try to
catch up to them.
On the way, Sparrow noticed an Orc patrol, but the group choose not
to engage them. The group slept peacefully, but Amalor heard a
noise and Hygelac spotted an Orc wandering around the campsite.
The group waited but nothing ever happened.
The next few days were spent traveling a great distance across the
plains of Shaar. The group could barely see a group of orcs
trailing them miles away. Eventually, the group got to a road and
headed east until they made it to a bridge. Just after the bridge,
the group spotted a fortified inn with a wall around it. They were
greeted nicely enough and were welcomed in after paying for a nights
stay. The group saw a large patch of mushrooms in the gardens
surrounding the Inn. The group ate dinner with the two owners of
the Lucky Mushroom Inn. The female owner took an interest in Roondar the gnome and they went off for the night. He certainly
held her attention with his own tales of greatness.
Sparrow went to talk to a tower guard and was informed that shadows
lurked outside the Inn walls at night, but never breached the perimeter.
During the night, Amalor heard what he thought to be speaking in the
hall. He investigated and noticed a panther shaped figure in the
shadows. He ran down the hall to wake Sparrow. Shaken,
Sparrow and Amalor then woke Hygelac in the next room. After
Hygelac proceeded to attack the shadowy panther, the gnome heard this
and left his room. Roondar almost bumped into the spectral panther
as he turned the hall corner. He immediately retreated and cast
his protective armor spell.
Sparrows arrows went right through the beast and Hygelac could do no
better with his sword. Nauthiz and Darr were in another hall and
headed towards Amalor's cry for help. Nauthiz charged the beast
with no success. Amalor summoned a creature to help, it
couldn't hit the spectral panther.
Roondar pulled out his new found scroll he luckily kept in his robe
and fired a powerful magic missile at the beast. This turned the
spectral panther's attention on him. The beast barely hit Roondar.
In the meantime as Darr exited his room, he heard a roar from down
the hall and turned to attack a second Spectral Panther. Darr's
blade also passed through it. Darr was then in trouble as the
beast munched down on him.
Roondar cast some sort of fire at the beast attacking him and he
succeeded in killing it. A large panther appeared where the shadow
had been. Roondar and the rest heard screams from Darr as he
called out for assistance. The group ran around the corner and
Sparrow shot off another arrow even though Amalor warned him.
Sparrows arrow struck true, right into Darr's back. Darr fell by
friendly fire. Two Inn guards approached the panther, but their
weapons also passed through the incorporeal beast.
Finally Amalor got the idea to try to use fire against the beast and
with a bit of torches and Roondar's last scroll of magic missile the
beast became corporeal and died.
The Inn thanked the group and made them an offer to stay another
night, but they refused.
|
Adventure 8: The Deliverer From the Chronicles of the Craver of
Pain, written for the 29th of Kaethorn
“Begone or face nothing but pain and doom!” I screamed at the cretin
orcs who dared attack my band of brain men, warriors that I had learned
to call comrades in these continuous days of war. I will extend my words
and say to any novice reading these words- that the world outside of the
monast is a world of pain for which many do not return. Let it be known
that these beasts, these fowl bugbears and tragic orcs, unblessed by
wisdom and the path quickly felt the sharp and tragic fury of our blows.
Upon their end we returned to the town of Elisberg, where the people
touched us as if we held the keys to a righteous and wondrous
enchantment. They called our Sparrow the great Deliverer, as if he
carried treasure and influence and treasure to all about us. This town
appeared simple, appeared mild mannered, yet held the same level of fear
as the others we had encountered. Surely we would encounter another of
the foul beasts (since meeting Darr son of Baddon, I had not been able
to shake that expression- damned Dwarf at times I do miss him so.) that
held our lives in their hands along with the mysterious couple of the
now long forgotten desert.
The people of Elisberg pampered Sparrow, and offered us every
convenience, including the warmth of the flesh and the sin of the soul-
all of it at a price. It was as if the great calamity that would befall
the town had actually been a ploy to separate our group from its booty.
Then again, what does a man on the path need of the shining distraction
that is coin? Only the true path is worth the wonder of this life.
The first night in town, the group went about buying things, while I
checked out these rumors of the great deliverer. They had told Sparrow
that he had to use a magical bow, that it came from a garden, that it
came only a special day that would be prophesized. Such are the
misgivings of the peasant towns that a warrior must journey through to
find the path. We armed ourselves, as my companions did find me
gauntlets of Ogre Power to better deliver those guilty souls of the
wretched.
While we struggled with the populace, I trying to teach a group of
whores the wonders of an unarmed Strike ( I welcomed the temptation and
hold no malice towards them, now they can better defend themselves
against this savage world- one in particular would not stop using the
naked crane technique in curious ways), as Sparrow was bathed in
perfumed airs and flowers waters, never had a ranger smelled so good as
when Sparrow left to combat the thing.
Before the battle I meditated with my gauntlets, focusing my energies
upon the straps of leather and hard skin about my fists. I let the anger
and strength of the ogres wash over me like a corrupting bath, it
vitalized me- I emerged into the scene only able to see red.
The beast emerged with a false costume of sorts, a half-orc came to
battle us, which we quickly defeated. Yet when Sparrow let fly his magic
bow, a Minotaur appeared from the mist. For even the savage rely on
deceit and cunning. The Minotaur lunged at Sparrow with a giant axe with
a wide reach, it cleaved through us, damaging the ranger. Yet this
humble monk, with the gauntlets that now sit in the Hall of Power, did
dispatch the crushing blow as I showered him with fists and drove him
back to the stench pit from which it came.
True the town celebrated the great Sparrow, and he did honorably deflect
the praise; but know that our order, a Craver of Pain, did bare the
weight of sending another soul into the fury of the abyss.
|
Adventure 9: Getting the Secret Scroll A magician's apprentice
falls into Darr's arms and hands him a scroll. The man's last
words are something like... "Don't let them get it."
The group is accused of killing the man, but later found not guilty.
The town of Shaarmid appeared large and luminous. We spent most of
the time in this town either searching for the owner of a scroll handed
to us by his dying assistant of a dead mage or dodging the accusations
of the local authorities.
There appeared to be no refuge for us as we entered a bar and began to
be denounced left and right. My fists thirsted for the blood of my
enemies, and I felt Darr tremble with the need to cleave and hack
through his enemies. Sparrow appeared interested in cooperating with the
guardians of the town. I held no such favor at all, and only longed for
the wondrous caverns where we spent hours swimming in the gore of my
enemies. A monk of my order only lives to overcome challenges, and yet
it seemed that in this entire city only a lone cat dared to oppose me.
Uncontrolled in my emotions, I struck out, killing the kind and
defenseless creature. Such is my shame with the episode that I find
myself unable to write of it in this most sacred of books. My actions
should not taint the sanctity of these pages. For that reason I move on
to the second episode of the strange scroll caper.
The group finds a drow rogue trying to steal the scroll one night. The group looks around town for the drow thief.
|
Adventure 10: Losing the Secret Scroll The group wandered
around town looking for anyone who might know about this scroll they
recently acquired. They visit a stinky mage Rar to enquire about
the scroll.
The group is harrased by another drow rogue.
Then the group follows up to visit the dead mage Sebet's home, the
apprentice worked for him.
The group loses the scroll to a scruffy old dog. Roondar didn't
secure it well enough and the dog snatched it.
Finally, the group visits the Dark Moon tavern to find a group of
drow. The drow are quite peaceful to the adventurers who drink in
complete darkness. To figure out the mystery of the scroll, we, the
adventurers went to a magic shop. To a suspicious old man that could
read such things for us.
We spotted a man following us, nonetheless we proceeded to the old man's
shop. A strange odor came from the man, a scent both repulsive and ripe-
evaporating in the air before us. He told us the scroll be powerful and
had to be destroyed yet he offered us no way of destroying it by his
hand.
Leaving the old man's shop, confronted by an assassin with deadly
poisons at his whim. I shrugged off his mighty elixir of death yet
Roondar did not appear so lucky. His health took a turn for the worst
but he made no move to admit to such pain at all. For this I did admire
the small sorcerer, for strength and courage does also flow among his
exaggerated tales of glory.
Overcoming the person following us, we went to interrogate him, yet we
were foiled yet again by the meddlesome guards. If only people allowed
us to take justice in our own hands perhaps this adventure would move
onward. Wherever we went in the city it appeared that our fate did not
rest on our shoulders, but upon the shoulders of others. We of the order
only looking challenges, and that infernal town only provided for a
source of mental patience not combat.
Moving to Sebic, the dead magician's house, the last owner of the scroll
we found out that the magi had been associated with half orcs and drow
alike.
The group returned to the original tavern and a dog came yipping up.
While we were distracted the dog grabbed the scroll from Roondar's cloak
and ran off with it much to our shame. Sparrow helped us track the
beast to a shady side of town. We neared the bar called the Dark
Moon. It was a place that humans, would not be welcome.
Thus Sparrow had to enter in near darkness. Darr befriended a drow
bartender and while he moved to meet others we were attacked by a dire
rat. A drow woman named Tabitha approached our table and briefly
spoke with Sparrow, of course Sparrow could not see her, but she sounded
similar to the Tabitha in the caverns. Unfortunately, Tabitha
claimed to not know Sparrow and moved along. The drow thanked us
for killing the rat.
After leaving the Dark Moon, we heard footfalls behind us. We
would not be getting a good nights sleep tonight.
|
Adventure 11: Searching for the Secret Scroll For days my
training had been pilfered, had not been challenged in that massive city
of Sharrmid. Our journey on this day took a better turn, the fates
called for my fists to once again punish those guilty of diverting me
from the path. Our informant, the drow, gave us information that we had
known already. This caused a great rage in most of us, especially me.
We heard about a secret passageway under the Dark Moon tavern where this
brotherhood of drow supposedly dwelled. We returned in the cover of
night, into the meeting room where we had seen them sitting at a
meeting.
While moving the table where we knew there would be a passageway, a
giant spider attacked us. I appeared not ready for the onslaught, and
the creature quickly webbed Darr and Hygelac- the main muscle and steel
of our team.
Sparrow and I let our meager crossbows fly, barely grazing the creatures
hide of fur and dripping venom. Roondar, the self assured and titled
warrior gnone tried to throw missiles of magic at the creature only to
burn the webbing and those trapped by it.
Yet Hygelac's trusted arm hacked through the goo, raining steel upon the
creature. Much to my shame, when I got my chance to attack all I was
able to do is slip in the green vomit that made the creature's vitals. I
felt as if fate decided to punish me for my arrogance when I had left
the Monast. Thoughts of the Monast, destroyed and abandoned flooded my
mind, but at last the creature did fall.
Believing he could do more than his abilities, Roondar did try to
harness the power of the spider's venom, only to be poisoned further by
the brutal elixir. His strength dwindled and his weight began to
encumber heavily upon him. However, the gnome, as always, proved to be
invaluable in the strangest of circumstances.
We descended into the worst muck and grime since the cave of piled
bodies long days past. Green and disgusting fluid flooded about us.
Without hesitation the weakened gnome, believing in his own delusions,
took it upon himself to go crawling about the sewers. Moving through the
corridors, we all hesitated, a strange silence overtook the scene, we
stood aback, as if the unknown gods of the cosmos prepared our doom in
advance. As if some unknown entity of the universe, looked about for the
pawns of our demise.
The pawns came in the form of stary snake-like creatures called Grick
from the sewers. They proved to be a difficult opponent as our weapons
simply bounced off them as if rubber. Only through Roondar's magic were
we able to overcome the fiends. Two more did face us, yet their defeat
appeared to be easier. My gauntlets of magic did prove to be effective.
We continued to explore the sewers, being attacked by a creature I would
later learn was called an Otyugh. I felt the shame of being distracted
and lost when the thing attacked, seeking only to look the other way at
any other apparitions which may be lurking around the other corner...
|
Adventure 12: A Eulogy for
Hygelac
Perhaps we were his
only friends, and that is why he followed us into that stinking
retched hole in the earth's maw. A fellow half-orc, with a smile
that could bring withered dreams to even the dead, but alas
could he fight and defend his friends from the horrors we put
before him. The moment Hygelac died, an innocent warrior
who probably picked up a sword only to make friends- is the only
moment I doubted my path of arms and blood. Every apprentice
must face it, the doubt, the wonder if the journey is worth it.
Those emotions did descend on me in those bowels, in that
macabre maze of green slime and white stone. the task is that
despite the odds we need to overcome that temptation of lost
thoughts.
When we turned the corner, after defeating the Otyugh,
Hygelac's final steps on the path began. The damned dwarf, Darr,
turned the corner, trying to satisfy his insane curiosity that
comes when he descends the depths. Crossing a bridge, a raging
storm of tentacles, some with swords, rose out of the murk. They
attacked Darr and I, slashing at us and pushing us nearly off
the bridge. It seemed for a moment that every single one of us
entered into its range of attack.
Thus we barely made it out alive, its sting cut like tiny
daggers in the darkness. After our half-orc friend struck the
final blow, I thought a shame we did not need weapons for they
lay strewn about.
Nor could we heal in piece, as two Gricks attacked our
party, half of us while asleep. I lay prone and thus took heavy
damage from its tentacles. Everything was tentacles in this
damned place. When the green monsters, descended back into the
depths, we then turned a corner- only to find a hydra.
At first we thought its size small, but then it pushed
its full bulk from the waters and we found it to be an enormous
adversary. With seven heads that attacked at once, it tore
through us, destroying our chances.
Darr struck at it with his axe. But when Roondar let loose one
of his fire missiles, perhaps a finger was turned upward,
slamming the dwarf rather than the monster. The son of Badin lay
there, presumably dead. I lunged to save what life bleed from
him, and took an attack for him.
Hygelac, that foolish but brave friend, did not count the
hydra heads in fear as we did. The barbarian simply struck,
simply chopped away at the attacker before him. For that blind
faith in us and his arm, he paid the ultimate price- struck down
by the bite of that underground cretin.
His body lay in the waters after Sparrow picked off heads
with his arrows. Yet again, it fell to Roondar, tales of heroes
be damned, to strike the final blow. And I have heard the Bards
sing of those days, and laugh, wondering did we even have a part
in those battles?
We buried Hygelac in that sewer tomb, after the gnome
found a cache of weapons and supplies that even served myself.
Amalor healed where he could, the cleric looking tired and
haggard, for we had used him so many times. In the custom of his
people, we burned him and sent his ashes upward to whatever calm
heavens he deserved. With a melancholy that only a place like a
sewer and a dead comrade could bring.
Moving further we found a tower leading upward. Sparrow,
with his skills, ascended into the cylinder, hearing drow voices
from above.
Seeing as we were all haggard after the battle, we decided to
camp out for the night. Our watch, especially our third, alert
to any guests in the darkness.
Waking to the scattering of a drow, the party faced the
invader, quickly. Roondar vaulted a tackle bag at him, and thus
we learned several drow curses. Killing him without gathering
information, perhaps even slaying a man simply going home, we
proceeded to the tower- to ascend and rid ourselves of this
place.
To greet us on the bridge leading to the tower, Darr with
his races dark luck, sprung a stone creature from the very
ground. The battle would have been much easier if only Darr had
kept his eyes on the enemy rather than the design of his brand
new dwarven axe. The price one pays for entering into a
labyrinth with a miner-jeweler rather than a warrior. Once again
my body felt the bite of his weapon, as I were his favored
enemy.
I, Bleeding, wounded, two other monsters sprang from the
very walls of the sewer, as if spat out like phlegm. When their
fists collided with us I missed Hygelac the most and heard the
healing vial collide with my belt... |
|
Adventure 13: The Sound a Gnome Makes...
We fought the earth elementals on the bridge of the sewer's tower,
mighty Darr cleaving with his holy weapon, slamming through the living
rock as if butter. The tiny warrior grunted and I struck my fists into
the cold stone, reaching deep to pit and falter the enemy. Sparrow, ever
the stealthy opponent, fought indirectly with the things. Jumping and
dodging volleying his supply of arrows, avoiding the great fists of
living rock.
In true fashion, Roondar left the close combat of the bridge and dove
into the water, seeking refuge (as always) on a nearby rock.
Confident we all fought bravely and with the incentives of pure
warriors. Yet it was then that our true doom lifted from the rock
itself. The elementals turned to see their great leader, an elemental
Lord rise from the living walls. The stone bubbled, warped, and finally
rushed outward to create a being that covered our entire vision.
Striking with fists of pure power, its bulk nearly crushing our entire
party. Many of us retreated, I made the neophyte's mistake of drinking a
healing potion during combat which nearly killed me. I moved into the
attacker's space, and like the fool that I was he did smite me.
Sparrow dove into the depths of the muck, his opponent following it
underneath the very waves. The ranger swam to the other outcrop, running
wisely over the bridge. Even our sacred protection of the cleric
wavered, our retreat became paramount.
Struck hard and near death I moved away only to be followed by the
elemental Lord. The thing moved into the wall and we mistakenly thought
it gone. When I crossed the bridge to investigate it appeared before me,
crushing me perfectly with almost child- like glee. In a last effort, I
vaulted as my master Hagalaz showed me, landing comfortably on another
stone island. It was then that the Lord went for the Gnome.
They tell me that not much is said about the death of the gnome.
Perhaps in death, somewhere from the great gnomish beyond he is still
directing the masterful craft of his rumors. But I can tell you that
none of us, not even the brave Darr son of Badden, would go head on with
that thing- nor even think to do so. Yet somehow, when the floor before
him warped and melded into that thing, Roondar did not retreat. He only
threw up his puny magi shield as the thing swung at him with great arcs
of power.
We tried to get to Roondar, and at the same time save ourselves. I do
not admit to any act of bravery at that time, not at all. We all must be
wise cowards at times, for I felt parts of my ribcage alter between bone
and dust. Finally in one colossal hammer downward, the elemental
Lord squashed our sorcerer, along with his spells, potions, poisons,
boasts, tales, and the countless other items that weighed him down.
Many have said that the gnome race, great people of annoying but handy
bits of technology, is infinitely curious about the sound their bodies
make if squashed. I have been exposed to even some rumors that some have
even tried to recreate the process- rarely escaping death (no one seemed
to have explained to them that to chronicle the sound of death, one must
be alive). With the authority of my experience, I can say that tis a
strange sound, appearing like a bug in the scent of that sewer, the
sound of goo crushed into bone and muscle- culminating in a mouse's high
pitched glee- perhaps the gnome thought himself close to that great
answer. As a monk of the Wodan, I must wonder if the gnome would have
made a sound if we were not there?
A five armed starfish of gore and guts remained where the gnome once
stood. As if satisfied the Lord melded into the sewer floor, hunting us
slowly. The party, following my lead (and Sparrow even vaulting) made a
break for the trap door at the top of the tower in the sewer. I could
feel my torso beginning to constrict, yet my legs pumped, moving me
rapidly to the trap door.
From experience comes wisdom, and my wisdom now tells me that making
noise in a drow strong hold is not a wise idea. The party rushed behind,
and I smashed through the ceiling's door, perhaps alerting all to our
presence therein. I vaulted the ring, searching the chamber within-
encountering two armed drow. As I tried to feign ignorance a crossbow
bolt struck me in the chest. Blackness ensued...
The most terrifying thing about being knocked unconscious during battle
is the clarity of action around you, and the sheer helplessness of it.
For amazingly I could see and hear everything around me. We believe it
is due to our Li training, or clarity of mind. So joined are we with our
companions that we can even see through their eyes. There I saw how the
party, the amazing dwarf especially, easily dispatched the drow- Sparrow
healing me quickly afterwards as Amalor stabilized as well. Darr wisely
searched the bodies, finding three potions, and experimenting with them
on the cleric- who was healed. What I would have done if I could, for
they hid me in a garbage dump about the chamber until I finally regained
consciousness.
Yet regaining consciousness to once again face the deadly charge of the
Lord Earth Elemental, as it smashed through our meager defenses. We
fought hard, Darr cleaving it mightily as my gauntlets oddly merged into
the stone- rendering us both immobile. Sparrow sent a rain of arrows and
drew a longsword he found on the drow bodies. Amalor healed where he
could, until the thing finally crumbled back to hellishly damned dust.
For his defeat had cost us much... Then again we did feel elevated
and triumphant in the end... |
Adventure 14: Flurry of Wounds
The moment Darr, with his dungeon lore, opened the secret door into the
drow hive- they descended upon us like insects. Darkness prevailed, and
those of the subterranean races (for it is said that dwarves and orcs
rose from the deepest of earth's bowels) felt comforted in the cloaked
surroundings. We entered a chamber roughly 100 feet deep and 60 across,
littered with long tables and benches where perhaps the drow gathered to
make plans for smiting the world of light. Two corridors ran at the
sides of the room toward the North. Darr and I marched in, attacking a
pair of dark warriors who parried with both of us. A shadowed assassin
opposed Sparrow who looked to the collection of tables with great
desire, as if a sea- going elf had been an ancestor.
We fought on, at the corner of my eye, my senses spotted two crossbow
bolts cross the room towards me. I tried to dodge them but failed, my
arm unable to rise in time. They slammed into my shoulder and I shot to
the right, Darr cleaving through the drow with surprising ease. Despite
the wound, I noticed the arrows moved slower, as if time slowed, My
senses rose, quickening, and while my surroundings descended- my
reactions increased. I felt my fists make better contact, my senses come
alive. Darr shined beside me, an anvil mining his way through the lair.
Behind us I could sense Amalor healing us, a gentle touch and whisper to
continue the battle
The two archers clamored across the room. Using one of the dozen tables
for cover, shooting at us from a new vantage point, I raced and jumped
over the table- my body curling into the form of a ball. I smiled as I
heard Darr's axe meet flesh then bone; a pleasant crush for the guilty.
With a kick and a block I disarmed one drow, hearing Sparrow's scream
from the other side of the room, I turned. A bolt flew into me from the
dark tunnel to my right. Within I could just barely make out around ten
bowmen in the hall, and the attacks of the others would not let me
retreat. Then a cascade of lights danced before my eyes, and I felt my
thoughts quiver. With a grip on the path, I shrugged the illusion away,
making for the west wall.
Turning I saw Darr's blurring axe in the center of the room, cracking
skulls, each accented with a dwarven roar chant. I finished off the
other archer, and found myself again in the path of the hallway.
Three bolts sprang toward me, but unlike other times, my instincts did
not simply tighten my muscles for the impact. This time, the arrowheads
appeared to slow, my senses beyond the arrow's speed. My forearms shot
out, like minions defending their master, and only one bolt struck me.
Sparrow had been attacked by an invisible foe, and Darr rushed towards
him to again give nourishment to his weapon. The two crushed the
opponent, and both made for the hallway at the other end of the chamber.
Wishing to outflank the drow, I moved toward the same hall, running
faster than I had ever before. Yet once again my confidence proved
erroneous, for a trap door sprung under me. Before it could swallow me
in darkness I felt my body turn and twirl- tumbling to the other side.
Toward another archer at the other end of the chamber.
The dwarf, ranger, and cleric stumbled at the other edge of the trap. I
faced the drow and punched my fists into him. Yet before I could attack
again, my skull exploded with pain. Stars orbited in the air. At first I
thought it a moment of elevation, where the mind ascends to levels
undreamed of. Yet the pain pierced my senses, and there I saw the
morning star and a tall warrior attached to it. Beside him another,
wielding a two handed sword.
Seeing my friends retreat to the other side of the chamber, I fought on,
tripping and nearly disarming the drow, and fighting off the other
warriors. In a fury, I screamed "You kill drow?" and they responded with
stale enchanted voices "Mmmm... Drow our friends!". The morning star
swung at me again.
At the corner of my eye I saw my companions retreat around the corner.
Darr cleaved his way to the center of the room, clearing a path and an
area to hold off the shadow dancers. He faced two formidable foes, with
swords in hand, the dwarf strategically huddled them preparing to slice
through them both.
Seeing my weakened situation as quite grim, I bolted toward them,
evading the swings of my enemies. Vaulting once again over the
treacherous precipice, I turned and ran toward the group. Sparrow
catching attacks from a dark assassin and Darr beating back the two well
armed warriors. Behind me I could hear the screams of someone who had
been following me- the pit had claimed its first victim.
Darr appeared in danger, and thus I bolted up to one of the tables,
kicking the dark armored drow, dropping him to the ground. A bellicose
growl escaped the miner's lips, and for a moment I thought his axe would
once again taste my flesh. Yet then it would be no accident. Behind us,
Amalor retreated to help Sparrow, who had taken to the tables and kicked
mugs into the face of the assassin. The Dwarf thrust his axe into the
torso of the last warrior, and both of us prepared to charge the east
corridor where once arrowed flew into me. I told Darr that the hall
appeared well guarded, this only made the dwarf grimace and wish to
storm it even more- and he bolted down the corridor
With one final focus on the path, I followed, hearing five crossbows
fire at once.... |
Adventure 15: The Final Moment, Again and Again
"The flurry of arrows came from right before us, Darr fought beside me
as I continued to dodge the volleys. Suddenly, from behind us, came
Sparrow's own attacks. The Ranger, using his abilities wisely, let his
own missiles of death into the darkened hallway. The drow faced us,
quickly dispatched by our swords and fists. With my gauntlets of ogre
power I felled two drow archers, while Darr fought hard against a magic
wielding dark elf who ducked behind a corner of the chamber.
I rushed in to melee with the woman, Sparrow covering our rear by
snatching arrows from the fallen enemies. The woman spoke words of a
hideous language, a shiver of fear overcame me but with my training I
was able to shrug it off. Amalor, the once brave cleric, ran off in an
utter panic, his voice echoing throughout the sewers. I threw a shower
of blows at the woman but none penetrated her mighty ferocity with the
sword.
A strange, well armored dwarf, came out of the portcullis behind us.
Cleaving through the drow's swordsmanship- he finally cut her down. A
cry of glee trumpeted from the warrior's bowels that reminded me of our
fallen companion Roondar. Something in the sadistic pleasure of the kill
brought the sorcerer's memory forward. Thus I write these words with a
saddened heart.
Yet this dwarf, insolent and suspicious, continued to astound all of us.
Around us lay the fallen bodies of dozens of warriors, friend and foe,
drow and human, It proved to be the ripe time to search the corpses and
chambers alike. I could see it in Darr's eyes, truly the only thing he
ever lived for besides battle- pillaging the fallen enemy. Among
adventurers there has always been the unwritten code of searching only
the enemy. For what honor is there of stripping your own comrades of
vital objects they may need in the afterlife?
That is precisely what this dwarven sorcerer did, used the death of his
own battalion (one he commanded we would later learn) to profit.
Before we could even talk to him, or ask him his reasons for being in
these disgusting depths (odd that we had never encountered him before.
This proved that there was another entrance- a fact that only infuriated
Sparrow). The dwarf, called oddly enough "Bill" began to pillage and
reap from the slaughter.
With a gruff and a whistle through his teeth, Darr began to search every
square inch of the drow headquarters. Sparrow followed the lead and
combed the area. I searched various bookcases, a desk, and several
chests; finding nine scrolls, a small sack (which produced a wolf
familiar after I dropped a gold coin into it and went to retrieve it),
three rings and two wands. Darr simply shoveled shining objects into a
sack, to be inspected later. Sparrow, ever shrewd, carefully moved about
the room looking for anything out of the ordinary.
We all backed away in shock when we saw Bill return with a large barrel.
Filled with a liquid, we all watched it brim over the top with deadly
acid. Somehow the dwarven soldier thought the item of some sort of use-
when I saw him drag that barrel I truly missed the light mischief and
tall egotistical tales of Roondar the gnome.
When Sparrow and I held up the sets of wands, Amalor returned from his
hiatus. Instantly recognizing the wand's powers, we spent the time
healing from the tremendous battle. In the interim I searched a
suspicious bookcase that revealed a secret door into what was to be the
main chamber of the structure.
As much as all of us had gained knowledge of subterranean architecture
in our adventures, not one of us could figure how to open the secret
door to our enemy (perhaps things would have gone quieter if we had
found a normal way to open the door- after all is not the whole purpose
of a secret door- stealth?). For reasons that not even my long years of
service to the Wo-Tan can possibly answer, Bill thought his barrel of
acid would serve as an excellent key. Perhaps the fear or enchant that
the drow threw at us had a prolonged if not unnoticeable effect. For
none of us objected!
We all backed up and Bill let the barrel lose, we had to dodge mounds of
flying acid but the concoction took out the entire wall. I am unsure if
we had the element of surprise or if the barrel ruined it. Yet
nonetheless, the chamber stood open before us. The dwarves headed in and
I followed, fully healed I looked forward to a good battle- but nothing
prepared me for what we encountered.
Thinking the foolish swordsman before us to be weak and defenseless, we
moved in to attack- seeing an unholy chamber with an altar in the center
and a coffin, three drow maidens on pillars, and two evil drow wizards
toward the back. At first we beat back the brute and dodged the maiden's
magic missiles, but with the flick of a wrist and a word to the abyss, a
deadly storm of Abyssal Maws surrounded us; appearing from thin air like
decaying grapes of vivid doom. Before I could blink, they surrounded me,
my companions hacking about us.
Wisely, Sparrow and Amalor held back, yet the magic missiles kept firing
and the Maws kept appearing like bubbles from the hells. Seeing danger
in being surrounded, I tumbled away toward one of the maidens, landing
perfectly, my fist even stunned her. Yet she felt incorporeal and I
moved to attack another. Just then one of the maws bit into me as if I
were a side of mutton. Pain gripped me and I knew that I had to get to
the leaders of the ceremony and stop the summoning. I went to tumble to
render them, but the top of the table suddenly shot upward, slamming
into my leg, and I landed on my back. The maws descended in for the
kill..."
JOURNAL ENTRY BY WUNJO, SECOND OF NAUTHIZ ON GUIMA 28TH:
Thus ends the final entry of my master, our, Craver's journals.
Shortly after these last words, the great Nauthiz, our guiding justice
seeker, of this, the New Monast order, retreated as he always had done
on these cold evenings to the peace and tranquility of his meditations
and time summonings. The Master, particularly elated, looked forward to
these twilight encounters, hoping to expand his retinue of spiritual
power. Of particular note, he wished to continue utilizing the Lotus of
the Expanding Moment, where an entire monks life re- occurs before his
eyes in a series of vision quests. Nauthiz, successful in the initial
re-living of his life, encountered a force that has now thrown him into
death's embrace.
When we finally broke the doors of his sacred chamber, smashing our
fists of iron threw wood ten centuries old, we found him delirious and
barely breathing. His eyes looked upward, his speech echoing throughout
the Monast as he observed, in madness, the same moment over and over
again.
"The maws descended in for the kill...The maws descended in for the
kill...The maws descended in for the kill...The maws descended in for
the kill..." our brightest One repeated and repeated.
Dagaz, our healer, revealed that his consciousness, his very life, could
not go beyond the moment he had unassumingly touched the altar of evil
in that drow chamber.
Something holds our master, and we stand here powerless against that
immensity.
We can only hope our leader can overcome this peril.
|
Adventure 16: In the Name of the Jeweled Miner
once again written by the acolyte Wunjo:
According to what I have heard, and our Craver has not been exact in
those occasions because of the great loss of the dwarf, the warrior's
continued to venture into the den of sorrows. Retreating, the heroes
suffered under the might of the magic users at the back of the chamber.
They continued to summon great evils from the nether realms. Surrounded,
Amalor did well by healing those about him. Our leader fought hard
against the demons and mauls, slicing through them with his orcan fists.
The great Darr, who many have sung songs of gold and jewels, honoring
his most precious skill in the mines, fought hard that last day. If not
for the "allies" that came to aid us, perhaps they would have defeated
the summoners much easier. Yet among that band, entering from the back
part of the chamber, came a barbarian. Seeing this the sorceress
enchanted the simple brained fellow and threw him against us. Not so bad
if not for the fact that the barbarian had just been enlarged by a
fellow sorcerer. From that moment Nauthiz's party entered a game of cat
and mouse. The party tried to get at the casters yet they could not, for
the barbarian swung at all that opposed him, be it former friend or
former foe.
In the end the enchantress even caught our great craver, causing him to
attack Guilliam with all his strength. Sparrow's arrows flew against
them, and Amalor once again retreated in fear.
The entire affair became a collection of coincidences that compiled to
nearly extinguish the small party. They entered a chamber of magic with
no magic user, an enlarged enraged barbarian stood against them, the
only wielder of magic ran away in fear, and their inability to take the
scroll from the opposing leaders. Like ripples in water that soon become
tidal waves, growing and growing until...
in the end Darr was gone...
Facing the enemy with nothing but courage and power, the man who had
survived a great weight of abuse and combat; finally succumb to the
deadly barbarian. At the last moment, thinking himself immune to the
giant's power, Darr gave Nauthiz one last look- knowing that it would
fail. The enraged barbarian, wielding a tree of steel, swung and utterly
crushed the dwarf, leaving nothing but a broken body long missed by
Nauthiz.
So much moved Nauthiz, saddened, that he buried the warrior with full
honors in that accursed chamber. Carving his name in the stone,
tattooing the fallen's skin with an icon of a mule and a battle axe,
Nauthiz knew the great Darr, son of Badden, would live forever- spending
all eternity launching himself against every foe.
Nauthiz rarely speaks of the dwarven warrior, but his presence comes
close to his soul.
Rest at last Darr for you have earned it.... |
Well, after the heroes frisk the bodies and haul a huge stash of
loot up the stairs leading to the surface building of the wizard Mekto's
home. Mekto was also found dead recently. The group returns with Bill to
the captain of the guard to fill him in on what actually happened. He is
pleased and decides to give Bill a few days leave. Bill is pleased to
find that his buddy, John Ciento Diecisiet, survived the drow onslaught
and he is also give leave. The captain is sad to have lost many men and
that the scroll was not recovered.
The group returns to the tavern/inn to find that all room and board
debts are taken care of and there is a feast in their honor for helping
rid the sector of Sharrmid of the Dark Hand. The group spends a few days
in town waiting for the hoard of loot to get identified by the few
remaining wizards in sector. During this time, the group finds Sharrmid
very pleasant and friendly. The group can recover 75% of any item it
tries to sell back to the merchants in town. Typically resale is at 50%.
Also, during this rest period, the group takes care of wounds and any
damage they may have received with some nice bed rest. |
Adventure 17: The Moving Maze
The group is asked to help figure
out why young women have been disappearing from the road that leads
north to Sharrmid.
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Adventure 18: Making Sense in the Moving Maze
The group finds multiple traps and
tricks in a maze filled with platinum statues. Three young women are
found alive... how have they survived?
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Adventure 19: Valuable Friends
Greediness and distraction from
the path always brings its own just reward. As we moved through the
maze, discovering treasure and Guilliam discovering platinum arms, we
learned that all that is valuable should not always be taken. The walls
shut us in and trapped us, we could not get out of the terrible maze. My
strength and Amalor's healing served us well, but if not for the young
maiden we encountered within the shifting corridors all would have been
for not. The comely wench lead us through the hallways with relative
ease. Oddly enough she did not seem nervous or even frightened. This
aroused the suspicion of none of us, tragically enough.
Leading us to a large chamber, where the ground opened up to sparse
walls and more statues of platinum. The more of the same solid metal
figures we had encountered in the other areas of this maze. Approaching
the entrance, something from afar watched us, I spotted it and reported
it to my comrades. John and Guilliam, following their nature, rushed
into combat. The sorcerer Guilliam letting missiles of mayhem fly from
his fingertips.
It seemed that John the human warrior's best attack on the creature was
a barrage of spiteful curses in the horrible language of abyssal.
The devil attacked us, wisely, from afar, pulling from the earth itself
repulsive zombies of flesh. He radiated fear, yet we stood our ground,
until John made an assault upon his perch as Sparrow fired a volley of
arrows at the creature. We gained little ground in the encounter, and
Amalor had to heal Guilliam and myself, pulling us from the very brink
of the abyss after a fireball burned us crispy.
Battling the monster head to head proved quite a challenge, climbing to
it, we soon realized that he could smite us with his tail- causing a
vicious bleeding wound. When it seemed defeated, it simply flew away to
heal in another alcove.
Below my other companions faced still another threat, one perhaps even
more dangerous than any of the others overcome before. Our faithful
companion, the comely wench, turned out not to be comely at all ( a
debate that the brothers and I have had for some time, if an accursed
medusa had the power to turn herself into any other creature- would she
ever bother to change back?) rather she was a metallic medusa. Nor was
it the simple creature of legend, who could turn poor unsuspecting
adventurers into stone.
Oh no, she was an alchemist's greatest wish, she would turn everyone
into platinum.
The moment we saw the two other women turn to platinum, I knew that the
damned Guilliam had robbed innocent people of their arms. Revenge would
be played in a cold way, for platinum is very cold.
As the demon flew away another serpentine medusa came at us. While the
treacherous medusa assaulted the others with her sight, thus I averted
my gaze as John fought it with his eyes closed (he did rather well
considering he had not trained in that ability. Defeating her we turned
our attention to the demon, yet already Guilliam had transformed into
the very metal he had so greedily sought out.
Sparrow, John, and I remained after Amalor had been turned shortly
after. The cleric perhaps had acted to much like a warrior, and paid too
much for that honor. We defeated the devil but not before John also fell
to the solid metal gaze of eternity.
Looking at Sparrow I knew that only strength of will and adherence to my
path in this life had saved me.
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