Talislanta - Tales of the Bloody Hell

Tales of the Bloody Hell
Book One: Long Live the Tirshata
Session 1 (from 16 Aug 2003)

Cymril, the majestic capital city of the kingdom of the same name and arguably the centre of all the Seven Kingdoms, was fashioned over time with a blend of magic, gossamer, and glass, or so it seemed to visitors. And if visitors could tarry in this wondrous city only two weeks a year, undoubtedly they would choose to arrive during the annual Magickal Fair. For everything about Cymril and the Cymrillians was imbued with magic, and the festivities of the Fair, the wares, the famed windship regatta, and even the much-feared yet highly anticipated wizard duels were the greatest in all Talislanta.

So it was that the Magickal Fair brought together old friends, among them the young Cymrillian windship pilot Vidian, the hardy Arimite mercenary Motar, and the Thrall warrior Gann. Their compatriots and henchmen were a gypsy woman named Delilah, a Zandir swordsmage named Dunmer, a Jaka named Ra Icza, and another Thrall. They were all tossing back a few drinks when they were approached by a shady Farad merchant named Tarriod, accompanied by a comely Batrean wench named Silva, who seemed to be his slave.

Tarriod wished to hire the heroes to find and recover ancient texts from ruins within Werewood. Tarriod led them to a Sarista gypsy named Valu, who told a tale of a lost city within the woods that had been recently uncovered by a band of Aamanian knights. This was the location wherein the texts would be found. A deal was struck: in addition to monetary reward, the merchant would lend his tiny windrigger to speed the effort, and the hired swords would return with their plunder before the end of the fair.

After loading the rigger with supplies, the crew climbed aboard, Vidian took the wheel, and the intrepid heroes departed from beloved Cymril on their way to Werewood, a dark and wild land overgrown with forests. Far above the ground, Vidian steered the flying ship on a northwestern course, passing over the ramshackle mining town of Shattra on the Axis River and navigating through the peaks of Motar's homeland, Arim. In a sparsely populated valley, the heroes paused to pass an uneventful night.

The following day was spent crossing Arim and the woodlands of Zandu to reach Matre, a small farming village north of the Zandir border and the last civilised locale where supplies could be gained and the windrigger housed. Naturally the more iniquitous of the ship's crew were drawn to the town's sole tavern--the Inn of the Dreaming Cloud--for their fill of liquor, lotus powders, and other delights offered by the locals.

The next day, the adventure continued on land to the edge of Werewood. Upon entering the forest, the heroes were attacked by ferocious beasts. Although they fended off the attack, the heroes were bloodied. Soon thereafter the discovered the sought-after ruins, a jumble of stone buildings huddled together as if to ward off the ancient trees. In the centre of the clearing was the largest of the buildings, and the trackers of the group could tell that others had been here recently, either the Aamanians or other folk.

The heroes entered the main building, cautious but eager to discover the secrets hidden within the stones. When they reached what appeared to be a large worship area in the centre of the building, censors of burning oil gave off a foul stench that most of the heroes found difficult to stomach. Yet Vidian braved the malodorous air to reach the rooms beyond. In what once passed for a dining hall, he discovered scrawled words on its defiled walls: “Long Live the Tirshata! He shall pillage and slay.”

After penetrating deep into the ancient ruin, the adventurers were surprised by a company of Za bandits that burst through a door just as Vidian approached it!

Trapped among the bloodthirsty submen, Vidian nearly lost his life in the ensuing battle. Luckily the Za could not overcome the skill of Motar, Gann, and their henchman. This was not Vidian's first encounter with the vicious Za, nor would it be his last, but it was certainly the most threatening. Sheer force of will alone allowed Vidian to cling to life until his battered body could be recovered and an elixer of balmroot was administered.

It took an exhaustive search of the ruins to uncover the secret door that led into the inner depths. In the rubble-strewn and graffiti-defiled dining hall, Vidian discovered and drank a magickal potion that shrank him to the diminutive size of a mere Durnish tunnelmouse. He was then able to slip through a crack in the wall of the kitchen, enlarge to normal size, and open the hidden door to allow the rest of the heroes to enter.

On a lower level of the building they discovered three secret rooms fed with air purified by wondrous machinery. Many rows of dust- covered stone shelves held all of the promised texts, just as the merchant had said. In one corner of the final room, the heroes even discovered a shade from the distant past, a vision of an elder Phaedran whose mind yet functioned. Although the heroes could not understand the speech, the vision confirmed that these ruins-- and indeed the ancient texts sought by the merchant--were Phaedran in origin.

The heroes carted the valuable scrolls and books back to the small town, loaded up the windrigger, and returned to Cymril on the final day of the Magickal Fair.

Although he knew little of their contents, Vidian felt unease growing in his heart about the ancient Phaedran texts and the purpose to which Tarriod would put them. The battle with the Za had brought back bittersweet memories of his years in the service of the Seven Kingdoms, patrolling the eastern reaches of the Sapphire Mountains and battling Za. The Cymrilian now wondered how came the bandits to Werewood and what intelligence had sent them thither.

Thus Vidian resolved to present Tarriod with the ancient texts only upon his acceptance of two conditions. The first condition was that the books and scrolls recovered from the ancient temple complex remain forever a part of the Lyceum Arcanum’s Phaedran collection; the second, that Tarriod release from her bonds the Batrean concubine that seemed bound to him as by an invisible chain. Perhaps this latter condition was imposed for no other reason beyond Vidian's natural antipathy toward slavery, yet in some unknown way it seemed of great import, though Vidian could not discern the reason.

On both counts the merchant refused, and though embittered by this betrayal, he could do little, and so made ready to leave the city of glass by windship.

Ever flighty by nature, Dunmer and Delilah made off together without so much as a fare-thee-well. They were soon followed by the Jaka and nameless Thrall. Motar and Gann agreed that it was a good riddance.

Meanwhile, Vidian took his concerns about Tarriod to Boldtooth, an official of the Lyceum Arcanum, Talislanta's foremost repository of learning. Boldtooth expressed great interest in Vidian's tale, and he warmly accepted the Phaedran texts on behalf of the Lyceum. One of the Cymrillian wizard-king's men was contacted, and Vidian was placed on the payroll of the Kingdoms with instructions to follow the merchant. Rumour held that Tarriod was headed for Carantheum and thence northward to an unknown destination in the Sinking Lands.

One perquisite granted to Vidian was a windskiff dubbed the Bloody Hell. Although unarmed and unarmoured, the skiff was light and quick. Furthermore, an unusual crossbow was discovered in the ship's hold. The three bolts that fit this weapon were tipped with small globes of an unknown liquid. Taking on supplies for another long journey, Vidian, Motar, and Gann departed once more into the wastelands.

TO BE CONTINUED

Are you playing 4th edition or the d20 version?

and BTW I love Talislanta, I shall be eagerly watching how the story progresses.

Hairy Minotaur said:

Are you playing 4th edition or the d20 version?

Click to expand...

Actually we used a modified version of 3rd ed. I've been trying to convince our GM to go to 4th ed, specifically because the magic system looks pretty cool. I haven't seen the d20 version yet. What is your opinion of it?

ironregime

Tales of the Bloody Hell
Book One: Long Live the Tirshata
Session 2 (from 30 Aug 2003)

The Bloody Hell sped eastward across the rolling dunes of Kasmir. When it reached the capital city of that land, the heroes stopped to spend a final night in civilised company before striking out into the forbidding Wilderlands of Zaran on the morrow.

That night, Vidian slept very little. Restlessly he paced the open balcony of the tower room in which he stayed, casting his eyes ever eastward across the Dead River Chasm that guards the Seven Kingdoms from the belligerent nomads of Zaran. Could it be that the words on the wall of the Phaedran temple--long live the Tirshata--had begun to haunt him? His knowledge of Zaran customs--and especially of their quasi-religious prophecies--was admittedly lacking, but he had gleaned from his military days that all tribes of Za awaited the day when their fabled messiah called the Tirshata would come to lead them in victory over their enemies. To any Cymrillian, that day would seem the beginning of a long and bloody nightmare.

The next morning Vidian piloted the ship along the Wilderlands Road on the way toward the red desert of Carantheum. When the suns had reached the height of the sky, Motar eyed the smoking remnants of a caravan that had come under attack by bandits. One poor soul remained to fend off the handful of Za who had not yet departed with their booty. Vidian dipped the Bloody Hell and went down for a closer look, but in so doing he clipped the top of an overturned wain, sending the skiff toward the dunes! A last desperate tug on the wheel allowed Vidian to set the ship down with only light damage.

This landing would prove merely the first in a long series of treacherous manoeuvres by the Cymrillian. Dockmasters in particular rued sightings of his windskiff, and it is said that even after the deeds of its crew were forgotten, the name of the Bloody Hell long remained a catch-phrase uttered in situations of shock and disappointment, as in, "Bloody hell, not them again!"

Amid the cloud of dust thus created, Motar and Gann tumbled from the ship and charged into the fray, surprising the remaining Za. The lone caravaneer, a Yitek by race, was glad for the aid. The trio dispatched the bandits without delay.

Gann and Motar salvaged what they could from the remaining caravan goods and offered the Yitek passage to Carantheum. He agreed. His name was Maylek.

A day later the ship docked within the sprawling desert city of Dracarta. Actually, docked is too kind a word, for the landing caused considerable damage to both the ship and the buildings that broke its fall. However, it was a mixed blessing, as the dockmaster was well met. Not only did he have considerable talent in the working of windships, but he himself sought the merchant Tarriod for unpaid debts. In trade for moneys and the promise of Tarriod's return, the dockmaster replaced the Bloody Hell's small wind machine with one normally reserved for much larger ships. In addition he sheathed the skiff in red iron bracings, cleverly shaped to resemble bright crimson flames issuing from the prow.

Vidian scoured the city for traces of the merchant Tarriod. The Farad had been sighted recently in the city but had flown north with many mercenaries in his employ. Ambassador Mynok, a representative of the Seven Kingdoms to the Dracartans, was supportive of the heroes' quest to return Tarriod to the city, for he wished to question the merchant himself.

Meanwhile, Gann and Motar accompanied Maylek on one of the tomb-robbing ventures for which his race is infamous.

Before departing, the heroes reviewed the repairs with the dockmaster. To them he gave two additional crystals with which to power the mighty engine. One crystal placed the engine into overdrive, allowing the ship to travel as swift as the desert wind, while the second crystal placed the engine into an even more impressive and dangerous mode known as ofucoverdrive.

TO BE CONTINUED

ironregime said:

Actually we used a modified version of 3rd ed. I've been trying to convince our GM to go to 4th ed, specifically because the magic system looks pretty cool. I haven't seen the d20 version yet. What is your opinion of it?

ironregime

Click to expand...

It's clunky, almost forced and of course the magic system does not translate well to d20. I think 4th ed. really shines, it most reminds me of 1st ed. which I still have all the books for.

Tales of the Bloody Hell
Book One: Long Live the Tirshata
Session 3 (from 13 Sep 2003)

Vidian and his comrades, eager to test the Bloody Hell's newfound speed, rocketed into the sky in pursuit of the Farad. Soon they spotted the windship hovering above the ruins of the city of giants. Here it had let down its payload of mercenaries to pillage for treasures among the enormous stones.

The heroes were loath to make their presence known, lest this raid be only a brief stay in an otherwise longer journey. But other events forced their hand. From the east came an army of araqs mounted on land dragons. Tarriod and his men immediately began to retreat to their ship, loading what treasures they could with great haste. But the dragons belched fire, and many men perished.

Without further delay, Vidian positioned the Bloody Hell on the far side of the windship, away from the threatening fires of the dragons. Gann, Motar, and Maylek sprang into action, boarding the ship and killing many men in the confusion. The poor mercenaries were beset by two enemies and were overcome. Tarriod and Silva were soon captured by the heroes. Then Vidian landed his skiff on the deck of the larger ship, removed the crystal from the engine, and sped across the planks to the helm of the windship. With much struggle he turned it away from the marauding araqs and flew away from the battle.

The ship was found to contain crates of empty scrolltubes, an Kharakhan knife of ancient and unknown origin found hidden near the merchant's bed, and a map marked with both the ruined city of giants and a location somewhere within the Sinking Land. Both Tarriod and his slave refused to shed light on the mystery, claiming that the Sinking Land was never their destination, but the heroes remained unconvinced. Tarriod denied any knowledge of the Kharakhan blade.

In need of rest, repair, and supplies, Vidian turned the ship toward the forests of Tamaranth where the Ariane dwelt, nestled in their black-stoned maze city of Altan. Here the heroes were addressed by representatives of the griff, who bade them peace. During a brief respite within the city, the heroes attempted to learn all they could of the fabled Sinking Lands and of the Kharakhan knife.

The Ariane recounted the legends of Elonde, the city of four winds, that was rumoured to float above the Sinking Lands. They also imparted the knowledge that the Kharakhan blade was over 1,000 years old. Its curious etchings were of an ancient speech, now spoken only by the Dhuna. Furthermore, the previous owner of the knife had been a woman, and it had been used in a recent murder.

After the heroes made ready to leave, Vidian flew toward a darkening sky, raising the windship ever higher to pass above the surrounding mountains. Yet the large ship was much slower than the Bloody Hell, and Vidian became fatigued. As he attempted to set the ship down in a small area of flat stone, the ship careened to one side and was sorely damaged. Luckily the Bloody Hell, tied to the larger ship's masts, suffered little. Tired, despondant, and clueless about their quest, the heroes were at a low point. Nothing more could be done except to return to Carantheum with what little they had gained.

The return to the desert city was anti-climactic. Tarriod was turned over to the dockmaster as part of Vidian's agreement, but no further light could be shed on the Farad's schemes.

TO BE CONTINUED

Tales of the Bloody Hell
Book One: Long Live the Tirshata
Session 4 (from 4 Oct 2003)

After deep rumination over the events of the previous month, Vidian and his comrades began to suspect more devious involvement by the Batrean than had previously been thought. They devised a plan whereby her intentions might be discovered. After securing a room at the Red Desert Inn, Maylek announced that he saw no alternative but to sell the Kharakhan blade to a fellow Yitek who, Maylek claimed, had an eager buyer already lined up. At this, Silva's face lit up, though she quickly attempted to hide her interest. Then taking up the large dagger and wrapping it in a cloth, Maylek and Motar exited the room and hid in an alcove nearby. Vidian bedded down for the night, allowing Silva the opportunity to leave the room unnoticed, or so she believed. But Maylek tracked her through the darkened city to the sky docks. There Maylek lost the trail, and no trace of the Batrean could be found.

The following morning, Maylek confirmed with others of his race that the Batrean had not been seen and nothing unusual had occurred during the night. The Yiteks imparted only a rumour that Cymrillians had attacked a Farad merchant near the Kharakhan ruins far to the north, and Maylek did not correct the inaccuracies of the report or hint at his part in it. Instead he thanked the fellow robber and gave him some jewels recently liberated from the tomb of a wealthy Dracartan.

Later the heroes came to the docks to inspect the repairs to the Bloody Hell. The work had been done with care and skill, and no defects could be found. The dockmaster was questioned about the Batrean but could provide no clues. Tarriod was bound still to the mast of a nearby ship and remained a prisoner of the dockmaster. The only other news of interest was the departure of another windskiff during the night, the Son of Tarune.

Vidian bid the dockmaster farewell, and the Bloody Hell ascended into the air and headed west. In the city state of Danuvia it halted for the night, and news came that the Son of Tarune had gone before them, also heading west. The friends took counsel with each other. Maylek urged Vidian to steer a course to the lands inhabited by the Dhuna, wherein someone could be found to speak the runes on the Kharakhan knife. Vidian countered that they should first go to Boldtooth at the Lyceum Arcanum in Cymril, for the sages of the Seven Kingdoms are unsurpassed. Yet Maylek said that this was a mistake, and those things which came into the possession of the Lyceum would not be returned. To prevent this, he placed a parchment over the blade, and taking a charred coal in his hands, made an impression on the page of the inscription.

The heroes returned to Cymril, and after reacquainting themselves briefly with the city's amusements, they entered the Lyceum Arcanum to visit Boldtooth. But his welcome was not as warm as Vidian had expected. He indicated that translations of the Phaedran texts were proceedly slowly and no gleanings from them were available to the heroes. Curiously, he slid some papers into a drawer as he spoke these words. Boldtooth's interest was piqued at the mention of the Kharakhan dagger, and although the drawing of the inscription was freely proferred to him, he insisted that the blade itself must be inspected if its true meaning was to be revealed. On this point Vidian disagreed, and the heroes left the room knowing no more than when they had arrived. Now all of them suspected that the representatives of the Seven Kingdoms, or at least of the Lyceum Arcanum, were not revealing all that they knew, but whether for good or ill intent no one could say.

While in Cymril, Vidian chanced to see the gypsy talespinner, Valu, who had told of the Phaedran ruins when last they met. Vidian greeted the gypsy cordially and pressed him for the name of a trusted member of the Dhuna race. The gypsy said that he could lead them to such, if they would travel northwest with him to those lands. Vidian agreed instead to meet Valu and his kin at the little village of Matre in two days' time, since travel by windskiff was more than twice the speed of the gypsy caravan. They parted well, and the heroes immediately left Cymril in the Bloody Hell, deciding to reach Matre and ensure that the windskiff could be left there in safety.

When they came within sight of the village, however, the sight was not one of safety. A war column of Za could be seen travelling north from the village, leaving it in smoke and ruin. The Za were perhaps a hundred strong, so the heroes decided to head for Matre to save what they could from the fires. On the outskirts of the village, a line of more than a dozen Za bandits were pushing a small group of villagers before them. This appeared to be the rearguard of the Za raiding party, instructed to destroy all that could not be plundered from the village, then force the few surviving prisoners into slavery or a slow death at the hands of the cruel bandits.

When the Za saw the ship, they pushed their captives back into the ruined village and took refuge in what remained of the buildings there. Vidian brought the windskiff to a halt above the road, but few bandits could now be attacked at range. Therefore he brought the ship low, and the Bloody Hell kicked up a storm of dust as it landed. Into this storm charged eight Za armed with barbed scimitars. A desperate fight ensued. Motar's knives flashed with deadly accuracy. Maylek stabbed at the enemies as best he could.

Vidian unsheathed his black iron longsword. It bit into the subman's flesh, and the power of the arcane sword revealed itself when, in a split-second, a brilliant blue spark traced an invisible pattern of runes along the blade and then was gone. But it was Gann, with his many-spiked thrall garde and mighty greatsword, that was most fearsome in battle, slaying Za with unmatched skill and ferocity.

Vidian slammed the windskiff into a nearby hut, but the Za held their footing, and the wind engine coughed and died in the choking air. There would be no escape by air. Yet hope still remained when the heroes managed to defeat those Za who had boarded the Bloody Hell. Yet the fight was not easily won, and both Motar and Maylek showed terrible wounds from the curved sawblades that the bandits wielded as swords.

Gann finished the last two bandits, slamming the foot-long spikes of his shoulder garde into the chest of one Za even as he hewed down another with a two-handed chop from his broadsword. But even as these two fell and the dust cleared, hope began to fade. For there standing in a circle round about the ship were nine more Za, undaunted by the defeat of their fellow marauders. The Za glared with hatred at the heroes.

Desperate to break the will of the submen and avoid another set-to, Vidian summoned forth a burst of arcane energy, focused it into the form of a jet-black arrow, and sent it shrieking forward at the largest of the Za. The bolt struck the bandit square in the forehead, and his skull exploded, showering the other nearby Za with fragments of bone and brain. But rather than depair, the Za became enraged and charged the ship! It was clear that this would be a battle to the death.

While Maylek descended the stairs into the ship's hold to retrieve the mysterious crossbow and its three globe-tipped bolts, Vidian turned to the thrall beside him and uttered words of power. The tatooed body of the thrall came sharply into view for a moment, then disappeared entirely. Though he could not now be seen, Gann grinned with bloodlust and walked forward to do battle.

The first two Za that approached were slain before they were aware of their invisible foeman. Then Motar and Vidian began to ward off attacks from the remaining six bandits. Maylek returned to the deck in time to see Gann reappear--seemingly from nowhere--behind the crowd of Za pressing forward against his Cymrillian and Arimite allies. Gann began hacking at the Za from the rear, as Motar and Vidian dodged to and fro.

Yet luck remained with the Za. Maylek nocked one of the odd-shaped bolts, cocked the crossbow, and levelled it at the centre bandit, but his aim with the unfamiliar weapon was wild, and the dart landed amid the deck, exploding a great hole in it. In addition, several of the Za turned on the thrall and began wearing him down with their attacks, and Motar screamed with agony as a Za broadsword slashed across his face, darkening his right eye with blood and torn flesh. Maylek fired another bolt. This one struck its target, blowing limbs from the body of one of the Za that had attacked Motar. Desperately the Arimite quaffed a restorative potion to give him the strength to continue the fight.

Meanwhile, Vidian and Gann fought on, while the final mystic bolt from the crossbow flew untrue yet again and enlarged the hole in the Bloody Hell's foredeck. Finally, Vidian ran his opponent through and sped to the assistance of Gann, who, although he slew his attackers, now lay bloodied on the planks. A healing elixer was administered, and Gann was saved.

Weary of battle, Vidian, Motar, Maylek, and Gann spent the remainder of the day salvaging what they could from the ruined village. Then they bedded down for the night, their bodies discomforted with the pain of poorly bound wounds and their heads filled with dreams of murderous submen fingering cruel swords.

TO BE CONTINUED

Tales of the Bloody Hell
Book One: Long Live the Tirshata
Session 5 (from 25 Oct 2003)

As the larger of Talislanta’s two suns broke upon the horizon and cast its first pale rays on the ruined town of Matre, Vidian awoke to find the corpses of Za bandits still littering the deck of the Bloody Hell and the ground around it. Gingerly, he pried a sawtoothed broadsword from the clutches of one of the marauders who lay sprawled against the ship’s ladder. He used the bloodied weapon to snag the dead subman’s battle harness and drag the carcass away from the windrigger.

When Vidian gained the main deck, he stepped over the dead body of another Za to reach the cabin. To his chagrin he found the larder empty but for a few mouldy scraps of mossloaf bread, which he refused to eat.

A brief assembly of the heroes determined the morning’s duties. While Vidian cleared the ship of the bodies of their fallen foes, taking care as best he could to avoid getting blood on his overtunic, Gann, Motar, and Maylek searched the village for what little foodstuffs the Za had not plundered or defiled. A short while later they returned with half a dozen casks of beer and grog, along with a couple armloads of bottles full of tipple from around the western half of the continent. It seemed obvious to Vidian that great effort had been focused not on searching out meats, breads, cheeses, and other staples, but on rescuing “liquid loot” from deep within the hidden cellars of the Inn of the Dreaming Cloud.

By mid-afternoon, Motar heard the approach of equs riders from the southeast. The vanguard of the gypsy caravan had arrived. They could see for themselves that Matre had recently come under attack by the Za, and within minutes the riders left to scout the northern edges of the forest.

When Valu arrived, he took counsel with Vidian, and the facts of the previous day were related to all who were there. Yet before much lore could be shared, Vidian was eager to barter with the gypsies. He offered a king’s share of the liquor that had been found in Matre in exchange for seats at the dinner table when the Sarista held feast that night, plus nine weeks of good trail food loaded onto the Bloody Hell before they left on the morrow. Valu agreed.

Among the caravan was a Sindarin traveller who seemed to take a keen interest in Vidian’s tale. His name was Dar Lotis, and though he was no warrior, he offered to join the crew of the Bloody Hell to aid their quest as best he could. In token of his friendship, he offered two elixirs with healing properties. Vidian gratefully accepted.

As day stretched into evening and the gypsies began to settle into their encampment, the other heroes sought out the services of various merchants within the caravan. They stocked up on additional supplies that would prove useful in the days ahead.

When all was made ready, the feasting began, and the dancing of the women was a fine sight. But the night’s festivities soon turned to more serious matters, such as where the heroes would travel next. For when the riders returned to the town, they told that parties of Za ranged far and wide through Werewood, and they doubted that safe passage could be found through it to any northern land.

The Sarista therefore decided to turn south at first light and travel the safer roads of Zandu. Vidian pressed Valu for more information about the Dhuna and where they might be found. If a very large tree near the northern shore of the Green Lagoon was sighted, said Valu, so to would be the settlement of the Dhuna. Valu said that the heroes should seek one named Lenatha. She was of the Laeolis coven, which revered the moon of sorrow.

But to follow these woefully inadequate directions the five heroes had little choice. And so when morning light next broke across the horizon, the Bloody Hell sped northward toward the Green Lagoon in the heart of the forest.

For much of that day the heroes searched the northern coast of the lagoon for some tree that might pass for that described by Valu. Just when it seemed they would give up all hope, Dar spotted an unusually large and gnarled spideroak standing head and shoulders above its companions. Within a few hundred paces was a convenient clearing beside the calm waters of the lagoon, and Vidian set the ship down onto the root-softened earth as best he could.

The heroes gathered their gear and set off to the tree. Once there, they began to canvas the surrounding woods for any sign of habitation. It was Maylek who found the Dhuna first, or perhaps they found him. It was a stony-faced man in clothing of grey that stepped forward, accompanied by armed compatriots a few paces from either shoulder. He demanded that Maylek discard all weapons and go into the forest with them to see Lenatha; no one else would be permitted to follow.

Soon thereafter Maylek returned. He had indeed spoken with the witch Lenatha and shone the runes of the Kharakhan knife in her firelight. Lenatha said that the knife was given to the giant Malenok, protector of King Modor of the giants. “In service and protection, to Malenok” read the ancient letters.

Furthermore Lenatha imparted news of a more immediate and troubling nature. The Batrean had been seen with the armies of Za now roaming Werewood. Even now she was encamped with the bandits in the forest many miles west. And her evil ran deeper than that of mundane women, for she was more than just Batrean, though precisely what else Lenatha could not—or would not—reveal. Finally, she charged Maylek with a great duty: to return with Silva’s dead body. Only then could the witchfolk of the Dhuna reveal more information about the extent of her evil.

When Maylek related everything that the witch had told him, the heroes held council. They could fly directly against Silva, risking a pitched battle with a great host of vicious bandits. They could return to civilisation in an attempt to gain strength. In the end, Vidian decided to return briefly to the Phaedran ruins where the mystery began, hoping that Maylek could converse with the ghostly Phaedran visage with whom he could not. Yet it was a fateful decision.

The ruined city had changed since last they had seen it. More Za had arrived and were busily fortifying the perimeter of the site. At least eight of them could be seen in various parts of the city.

Vidian confidently steered the ship toward the largest building, the temple, while Motar aimed great bolts from the ship’s ballista. The Bloody Hell swooped down from the cloud-swept sky and landed abruptly in front of the temple doors. Within seconds, wild submen were charging from every direction.

Gann’s task was to hold the ship against the assault of the eight Za surrounding it, while Vidian led the rest of the crew into the temple. But all did not go according to their wishes. The temple doors were fiercely defended by hordes of sword-wielding bandits, and four Za had taken up positions atop nearby buildings and were raining arrows onto the Bloody Hell.

Though valiant fighters, the crew knew they were outmatched and could not win the day. They retreated to the ship and managed to hold it against the onslaught of the Za long enough for Vidian to build enough wind to fly away.

After a safe haven was found for the ship that evening, the heroes nursed their wounds as the last dying rays of the smaller of Talislanta’s two suns faded into the purple night.

TO BE CONTINUED

Tales of the Bloody Hell
Book One: Long Live the Tirshata
Session 6 (from 8 Nov 2003)

The heroes returned to the safety of Kasmir to recuperate. New armour and weapons were purchased, and though it emptied the crew’s purses, the Bloody Hell was fully repaired. While in the company of the Kasmirans, Vidian and the others held council. There seemed no alternative but to confront the Batrean—or whatever she was—and discover the truth behind her charade.

After four days in Kasmir, Vidian and his crew set out once more, armed with new-found resolve. They found the main encampment of the Za west of the Green Lagoon, as Lenatha had said. Vidian landed the ship on the fringe of the encampment. He then shouted the details of a cunning plan to the crew, and everyone sprang into action.

First to act was Gann, tying a rope around his waist and leaping from the side of the ship onto the leading group of charging Za, killing one and throwing the rest off-balance. He rolled to his feet, whipped his broadsword from its sheath, and took on nearly two dozen bandits at once.

Meanwhile, the remainder of the heroes descended the ship’s ladder on the other side of the ship and skirted the forest clearing until they were able to enter the bandits’ camp unchallenged. As they rushed swiftly forward, Silva parted the flaps of the largest of the tents. Beside her stood several enormous Za men.

Immediately Vidian formed an arcane bolt in the air and levelled it at the Batrean’s head. The magick streaked through the misty morning air and exploded right in front of her. The Za were knocked back and had no chance to intercept Motar’s two knives that thudded into Silva’s body. Silva fell to the ground. The enraged Za jumped to their feet and charged the heroes.

While Dar, Maylek, and Motar beat a hasty retreat toward the ship, drawing the Za bodyguards after them, Vidian placed his hands together before him and chanted ancient syllables of power. Within seconds he had faded into the mist and was no where to be seen!

When the others returned to the Bloody Hell, they found Gann holding the ladder of the ship against desperate odds. He had suffered several gashes and cuts from the bandits’ swords, and rivulets of blood distorted the patterns of his tattoos into a terrifying crimson camouflage. The heroes fought their way back onto the ship; several Za had already climbed aboard and were prowling the decks in search of victims. Dar and Maylek slashed and beat at them, while Motar rained death on the foes of the Thrall below.

For what seemed like hours the heroes struggled, though for certain it could only have been a handful of minutes. No one noticed the doubled-over body of the Batrean woman as it floated silently up the far side of the ship and across the deck to the captain’s cabin. The door of the cabin opened as if by itself, and the woman’s body glided into the room and came to rest in a crumpled heap in the corner.

An unusually large and broad-shouldered Za was bending over Vidian’s winelocker in the small cabin; he would have easily been nine feet in height had he been able to stand up without stooping. He had been ravenously chugging aquavit and dashing the half-empty bottles against the wall. When he heard the muffled noise of Silva’s body being placed in the corner, he turned suddenly, drew his jagged weapon, and walked over to inspect the woman’s body.

Behind the bandit, a misty cloud began to coalesce into the form of a Cymrilian windship pilot with a black iron longsword resting on his shoulder. In seconds Vidian came fully into view, and a glint ran down the silver runes of the dark blade as he struck. The blade buried itself deep into the subman’s back as if it were a hot knife melting butter. The Za screamed and cursed as he fell to the ground, smoke issuing from the gaping wound in his back! Vidian stood back, ready to strike again, but there was no need. The Za was dead.

Vidian emerged from the cabin to take stock of the situation. The crew was in terrible shape, embattled on all sides and nearing death.

Vidian ran to the helm and engaged the wind engine. In a few moments, the funnel roared to life, and the skiff lifted into the air, then lurched forward into the tops of the nearby trees in a sharp ascent. Several of the Za lost their footing and slipped over the side. Maylek also slipped over the edge but managed to grab hold of the railing just in time. It seemed he would haul himself up, but a Za bandit on the upper deck lost his footing and slammed into the Yitek. They fell from the ship a hundred feet above the forest!

All this while, Gann had been knocked to the ground and was rolling this way and that to avoid the blows of the mob of Za gathered around him. With kicks and sweeps of sword, the thrall had been knocking over enemies and amputating limbs in a wild fury. Yet it seemed that his luck had run out, for he was exhausted and battered, and he could not parry every strike aimed at him. A Za chieftain with a deep scar across his forehead rushed up to where Gann lay and raised a thick- shafted spear above his head to strike, and Gann could do nothing to avoid it!

At that moment, the end of Gann’s rope was reached, his body was jerked violently into the air, and the long blade of the chieftain’s spear struck only the cold ground where the thrall’s head had lain a second before. With a groan of pain, Gann went flying up into the air, swinging this way and that like a blood-stained pendulum, as the Bloody Hell gained altitude.

The rope to which Gann had tied himself saved more than one life in that moment, for Maylek managed to catch of it with a wild thrash of his arms as he fell. He had just enough strength left in his thin frame to hang on for dear life. The Za who had fallen from the ship beside him was not so fortunate. Meanwhile, Vidian steadied the ship, giving Motar time to end the lives of the two remaining Za who remained on board.

When they had returned to the clearing near the great spideroak, Gann and Maylek dropped gently into the shallow water as the Bloody Hell hovered above the lake. Vidian then landed the windskiff in the clearing, and the heroes gathered to tend their wounds. Gann was in terrible shape and would require much assistance if he were to survive. The rest of the heroes gave him food and drink and what comfort they could, but it was clear that he needed more aid than they could give.

Vidian brought out Silva’s body and carried it into the forest to meet with the Dhuna. Maylek led the way. Within a few moments, the stony- faced man appeared once more. Vidian laid the Batrean’s body on the ground. Then Maylek approached and said they had brought Silva’s body as requested and that the thrall in their company was in dire need of the ministrations of a healer. Would Lenatha meet with them?

The stony-faced man held his hand above Silva’s body. Suddenly he took a step back and yelled, “She lives yet! Her evil is not ended!”

Silva’s eyes snapped open. She held up a hand, and Maylek was flung backwards against the trunk of the great spiderwood tree. He tumbled to the ground and did not rise.

Vidian drew his sword. Motar flung knives. Gann ran forward to do battle. Dar cheered them on.

Silva got to her feet just as one of Motar’s knives struck her in the chest. Her face was expressionless as she yanked it out of her body and tossed it aside. Vidian struck at her with his arcane blade, and she knocked the blow aside with her hand, as if she knew no pain. Surprisingly, no blood issued from her wounds!

“Your weapons are useless against her,” called the stony-faced man. “Within her frame is a terrible power against whom only the ancient ones may strike blows!” The representatives of the Dhuna retreated further into the woods.

Silva pointed a finger at Vidian, and like Maylek, he saw shoved backwards by an invisible force. He flipped over in the air and landed face down in a tangle of thorn bushes. Silva walked confidently past the spiderwood tree toward the remaining heroes.

Behind her, Maylek stumbled to his feet, pulled the 1,000-year-old Kharakhan knife from the folds of his shirt, and buried it in the Batrean’s back squarely between her shoulder blades. She stopped in her tracks, still as a statue. Maylek half-cringed, expecting to be knocked aside once again.

A green light shone from Silva’s eyes, and a shudder ran through her body. Maylek dove out of the way as blinding bolts of green lightning arced from her body to the surrounding trees, and a great cloud of dark smoke began to roll and boil about her. Those still standing dove for cover.

By the time the heroes recovered the courage to peer out from behind their shelters, the lightning had ceased and the black smoke was already beginning to dissipate. The body from which it had issued lay motionless on the ground, but it was not Silva’s.

Instead of the beautiful form of a young Batrean woman, before them lay the naked flesh of a man. His skin was pale and nearly translucent, as if he had lived in darkness for many years. His bearded face was frozen in an expression of both shock and agony at once. The great dagger of the giants jutted from his back.

Later, when the Dhuna had been summoned and their fears put to rest, the body was shown to Lenatha, who confirmed that this had been a powerful Phaedran wizard. He had discovered a passage that led back from the world of the dead, and his spirit lived once more within the Batrean woman known as Silva.

Epilogue

What evil schemes had been set in motion during the long-dead wizard’s return to Talislanta may never be fully uncovered, but with his passing, two facts remain certain. The first was that the wizard had begun to breed an advanced race of submen who still infested Werewood. These superhuman legions of evil would continue to wreak havoc as long as they thrived in the north, and only a war would end their rampage.

The second was that the crew of the Bloody Hell had delivered only a brief check--not a total defeat--in the war against evil. Someone close to the wizard still lived, though whether a servitor, a colleague, or a master no one knew. Even now, in some dark corner of the continent, they sit brooding in the cabin of a windship named the Son of Tarrune, dreaming of the next step in the conquest of the civilised world.

NEXT UP... BOOK TWO: THE TREE OF LIFE

Tales of the Bloody Hell
Book Two: The Tree of Life
Session 1 (from 28 Nov 2003)

A gloom hung about the crew of the Bloody Hell. Of late they had foiled a plot by a long-dead Phaedran wizard to engulf the Western Lands with an army of mutated submen. But for all their troubles, they ended up as unwelcome guests in Werewood, lying bloody and penniless among the grim Dhuna.

To raise spirits, Vidian proposed a return to civilisation, perhaps to be followed by some profitable mercenary work. So the heroes set out for the Seven Kingdoms. Motar requested a layover in his hometown of Shattra, where his family lived. Vidian agreed.

Within a few hours, the windskiff approached the valley where Shattra lay nestled near … The Bloody Hell hovered a few feet off the ground while the heroes descended the starboard ladder. Dar elected to remain aboard to guard the ship.

Perhaps the fact that no villagers could be seen should have been the first clue of trouble. All of the residents were gathered in a large communal hall in the centre of the cluster of ramshackle huts that made up Shattra. Determined to find out more, the heroes entered the building.

“You!” shouted an old crone. “You are bewitched!” She pointed a crooked finger at Motar. “And the sorcerous ones around you are to blame!”

“Mother, you are—” Motar began, but before he could protest, a gap-toothed old man spoke in a deep, booming voice. He described three omens which had befallen the town before Motar’s return. In each case, a single eye was seen as having evil significance. Motar’s return to Shattra bearing only one good eye seemed to be the final piece of evidence needed to brand his compatriots as witches.

When the old man’s accusations were finished, the mob forced the heroes out of the hall and into the muddy street.

“If anyone lays a hand on me,” muttered Gann, “they lose it.” Gann placed his hand on his broadsword, but a look from Vidian urged caution.

“Lock them up with the other one!” shouted the gap-toothed man. Younger Arimites bristling with knives approached the heroes and herded them backwards toward a trapdoor set into a paved section off of a winding mountain road. Vidian reassured the others that they should appease the mob for now; escape was still possible. Beyond the trapdoor, they descended a wide stone stairway into a common cellar packed with barrels of chakos and crates of hard bread and dried meats.

Yet the heroes were not the only witches sent to that dark place. A Zandir swordsmage was seated on a barrel in the corner. He told, after greetings and introductions were completed, of his capture the day before on charges of witchery. His name was Phantarl.

Before the conversation in the dark cellar could turn into an uneasy silence, the angry Arimites returned and threw open the trapdoor. The early evening light was just beginning to create shadows of the great mountains all around the town as the heroes emerged.

“Motar, we have reached a decision,” said the old man. "You must be freed from your bewitchment. To do this, we must kill those around you.” The younger Arimites approached with drawn weapons.

Battle commenced. The heroes cut down their foes. As more Arimites entered the fray, the crew beat a hasty retreat to the Bloody Hell. Phantarl followed.

The windskiff was still hovering right where it had been parked. Luckily the Arimites had not been able to board the ship while the heroes had been imprisoned. When he saw the rest of the crew approaching, Dar lowered the ship’s ladder and ran to the fight.

The heroes spent a night hovering over Viridia. The following day, they docked in Cymril, and the young clerk recommended an inn called the Crystal Stroke. Then he handed a note to Vidian from Boldtooth, indicating that he had found something dangerous and Vidian should visit him first thing. Yet Vidian delayed, and this was to have dire consequences.

The heroes checked into the Crystal Stroke and received some much-needed R&R. The innkeeper, named Dravin Har, treated them well, and they heard many things. One rumour that came to their ears was that the Phantasians have been riding aerial beasts called nizrini lately.

Late at night, Vidian, Gann, and Motar visited the Lyceum Arcanum but were turned away by guards.

The next morning, the heroes went to the Lyceum again to visit Boldtooth. His apprentice, an adept named Otep, said he may be found in his tower.

The heroes found Boldtooth dead in his chair on the second floor of his tower, killed by an assassin. A note marked in the dead man’s palm read, “My key unlocks the mystery in my hard heads.”

The heroes searched the tower and located a secret staircase to the third floor.

Inside they found many unusual items, translations from Phaedran, and some magic equipment. Among the items found were a small silver gong, a ceramic jar full of amber beads, a jar with a severed paw in it, an old silver armband with red iron filigree of dragons, 800-year old Arduan scale mail and helm fashioned of bronze in the late Phaedran style, an exomorph hide, and a magical red leather robe.

One of the translations was found sitting alone on the table. It is transcribed here in full:

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From the Chronicles of Ar’tec the Father……..

Through time forgotten we have bloomed from this that men and those
beasts that walk on two legs believe as legend.
It’s roots run deep through all of us, it’s fruit nourishes our
world and is the well spring of the gods.
Yet a dangerous thing, this Tree of Life which can bestow many
gifts. For some it brings enlightenment, for others the portal to
thrust their evil back onto the world once more.
I dream of rain that washes away the sand of time and runs into my
single silver eye. The eye which guides my way to many doors in the
slumbering hall of the sad children of Talislanta and their watch.
But my eye is closed and hidden from view
a mere seed in the great fruit of Viridian where bridges span
to the Archaens that see all
L’raat and his truth
P’tog and his blood
Sl’zan and his beauty
For their souls were lost
They were men and fragile in their grace
the chords of their life dangle from pale limbs still
supporting the shard
awaiting the darkness
But the torturous sweetness that is the Tree of Life endures

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While leaving the tower, the heroes were attacked by Vird and a powerful female warrior. The attackers were defeated, and a large bug was found on the back of the female’s neck. Guards arrived and placed everyone under arrest.

In a guardroom somewhere in the city, a captain of the guards presented the heroes with an ultimatum. They must clean up the mess at the tower and leave the city forever.

Vidian protested, but the heroes finally agreed. They put all of the dead bodies into carts, along with everything from the third floor of the tower. They loaded these onto the Bloody Hell, then departed for Sindar, hoping that Dar may have some contacts there who could help decipher the mystery.

TO BE CONTINUED