Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions (final update posted 02.14.10)

Hello all and welcome to the new thread.

If you are new to this story hour then I'd suggest going back to read the earlier adventures in the thread entitled The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions. This picks up without preamble where that thread leaves off and won't make a whole lot of sense without knowledge of what went before.

Older write-ups (pre-board) are available for download as Word documents here, here, and here.

You can also find the early adventures as .pdfs, repackaged with introductions, and reader blurbs. These represent the most complete chronicle of the campaign.

• Volume One: The Grey Companions
• Volume Two: To Live and Die in Riverneck
• Volume Three: Something Rotten in Barnacus
• Volume Four: Against the Cult of Chaos
• Volume Five: The Problem with Portals
• Volume Six: A Tale of Two Forests
• Volume Seven: The Keys to Her Heart

Horribly outdated charcter stats are available in the Rogue's Gallery for what it's worth.

Now, on with the show...

[Noxin #1] Why'd it Have to be Snakes?

A cold breeze was blowing wetly across his naked skin when he finally awoke. A dull roar filled his head, and weakness pulled at his limbs. At least he didn't feel so clumsy any more. When those damned dwarves had jumped him he'd-

He sat up quickly, blinking into the darkness.

What had happened to those dwarves? They needed a taste of his hammer!

He started again.

What had happened to his hammer? And the rest of his gear for that matter?

He patted himself down and found out two things immediately. First: he was naked. Second: his ankle was manacled to the stone surface on which he lay. He grabbed the chain with both hands and pulled.

It only took a few tries to yank the manacle free of the bolts that held it in place.

That done he peered around at the dark for some clue as to his locale.

He noticed two things immediately. First: the roar that he'd thought was in his head was actually coming from somewhere to his right. The sound of falling water, maybe? Second: the darkness that had seemed total, was actually only MOSTLY total.

He could see the clouds of vapor billowing from his mouth as he breathed in the frigid air of the place. And he could, with effort, tell that he was on a flat, stone platform in the midst of some enclosed space. He couldn't see the walls, or ceiling, but he'd grown up in a cave and he recognized the acoustics of a stone chamber when he heard them.

He rolled over and looked over the side of the platform and there was the ground, only about three feet away.

It was covered with snakes.

They weren't moving and at first he thought that they might be dead. But no sooner had that idea started to form in his mind than a dry rattling sound rose out of the darkness. It was echoed by another and another until the chamber nearly shook with the maddening sound of angry serpents.

[Noxin #2] Putting His foot Down

Snakes! Noxin had encountered such before, up north, where it was warmer. He didn't fully understand it, but someone had explained to him that snakes liked to live in hot places - NEEDED to live in hot places, even.

It was not hot in this cave.

Slowly... a thought formed.

Maybe... these snakes weren't real.

Maybe... it was magic.

Magic snakes wouldn't need it to be hot.

Pleased with his own cleverness, Noxin sat down and worked at the cuff on his thick ankle. There wasn't a lot of give in the manacle, but he managed to get his fingers between his ankle and the metal with only the loss of a bit of skin. He worked at it for a minute or so, listening to the angry rattle filling the cave, and thinking that they sure sounded like real snakes. Finally the metal cuff sprang loose.

He hefted the chain experimentally. It was crude and awkward, but it would serve to test his 'magic snake' theory. He once more peered over the side of the slab and saw the snakes. They were moving now, though not with any real purpose. He raised the chain in two hands and swung it downward, overhand, like a flail. It drew a spark from the floor when it hit, but he also felt the slight give in the chain that indicated a solid impact with something softer than stone too.

Something... like a snake!

Noxin looked and saw, as he'd suspected, a single snake laying smooshed and unmoving amidst its fellows.

He scowled, disappointed that his clever idea had been proved wrong. But his introspection didn't last long; he was a man of action, not thought. His course decided in an eyeblink, he leapt from the stone slab, landing on the cold floor some distance away and bringing his foot down in a massive Stomp! Shockwaves emanated from the impact and ran through the floor.

Normally, when Noxin put his foot down it knocked people to the ground and shook them up a little. But snakes were already on the ground, so he wasn't sure what would happen to them. He didn't bother waiting to find out, either, but pressed ahead into the darkness with his hands outstretched.

He stumbled into and over another stone slab. He scrambled onto it, moving ahead in the dark and bonked his head against something wooden. He cursed and stood, pressing his hands against the wooden thing. It was a door, he discovered - one of those kind with the big iron bands holding the timbers together.

And it was locked.

He listened then, but could hear nothing but the stealthy rustle of snakes moving toward him in the darkness.

[Noxin #3] Blinded by the Light

Noxin slammed his shoulder against the door and heard it crunch under the onslaught. He was surprised that it held, but he gave it another try and it slammed open, the lock holding it closed shooting off into the darkness beyond. There was a little more light here, he was happy to note. But there was not much of it and it had a strange flickering quality that made everything stutter and jump in a way that Noxin didn't care for.

He spared a glance behind him. The snakes were slowly converging on his location, but they seemed unable to climb the step up to the door, That was something, at least.

He was in a hallway, he saw at once. There was another door almost opposite the one in which he now stood. The light was coming from his left, however, and as he turned in that direction there was a brilliant flash and three shrill cries of pain.

Noxin looked and saw two of those dwarves he'd been jumped by earlier. They were clutching their huge, pale eyes and writhing in pain, probably blinded by that flash.

Good, he thought.

And then he noticed that the light was growing dimmer or moving farther away. Soon, when that light faded entirely, he reckoned that he'd be as blind as the dwarves.

Grinning like a madman, Noxin charged down the hallway, silent apart from the thud of his huge feet hitting the floor. The nearer of the two robed dwarves looked up, its face wide with shock and horror as 350 lbs of naked half-giant bore down on it. It brought up a shortsword that it held in one hand , but failed to do much more than show it to Noxin before his mighty hands closed around the dwarf's arms, swallowing each from elbow to armpit.

The dwarf let out a pathetic mewling sound that Noxin liked just fine.

There was another of the dwarves in a room off the hall, he could just see in the fast-fading light, but he was more immediately concerned with the nearer creature. It cast a spell, which normally would have earned it a boot to the head, but Noxin had his hands full at the moment, twisting the arms off its compatriot. The best he could do was to turn and keep the blade out of his face. He felt it draw a line of blood from his shoulder, but the wound was trivial, and it didn't keep him from completing his turn.

As he turned he hurled the dwarf in his arms into the one who'd stabbed him. Or at least that was the idea. What ended up happening was that he threw the dwarf at its fellow and it dodged out of the way. The flying dwarf went hurtling ten feet into the other room, landing in a heap.

The dwarf nearest him maneuvered itself to his flank and took a stab at him that really wasn't much of a stab at all. Noxin punched him in the gut, putting his weight behind it and knocking him back into the wall. He rebounded just in time to catch the half-giant's other fist in the face. The dwarf collapsed without a sound, bleeding profusely from its ruined nose.

The light was almost gone now, and Noxin could only barely discern the shapes of at least two of the dwarves coming at him from inside the room.

[Noxin #4] Smoker's Lung

Noxin turned to face them, straining to see in the almost total dark. There was something weird about the nearer dwarf; it seemed to be covered in shadows and it held up a hand that was even more hazy and indistinct than the rest of it. Before the half-giant could note more, it reached out and its hand seemed to flow outward - entering his mouth and nose as he took a breath - filling his chest with burning.

He could taste woodsmoke and could do nothing to suppress the choking cough that wracked his body. He was gagging, the smoke taking the place of air in his lungs. His chest was on fire!

He reached out a hand, seizing the dwarf by the head and drawing it into his arms as easily as he would a child. "What did you do?" he tried to scream, but found he could do nothing save make choking sounds and expel smoke.

Well, that's not entirely true. He could also squeeze. And he did that, flexing his muscles around the dwarf and listening with grim satisfaction as it squeaked in pain.

He was totally blind now, unable to see even the creature he held locked in his thick arms. Not that it mattered at the moment; if he was going to die in this place in the dark, he was damned sure not going without company.

Noxin felt something tumble passed him through the open door and into the hall. He couldn't see it of course, but it didn't smell good, and past experience told him that anything that "tumbled" passed you wasn't something you wanted on your flank. He was proved right a moment later as he felt the cold steel of a blade slide against the inside of his thigh from behind. He managed to twist away with his sack only grazed, but the little bastard was clearly going for something vital.

He gagged in pain (and more than a little fear) and squeezed mightily, crushing the dwarf in his arms almost into paste. As he relaxed his arms and let the body fall to the ground, he felt a glimmer of hope as he expelled what felt like the last of the acrid smoke. He could taste cool air. It was tainted by the stench coming off the dwarf still attacking him but it was still sweet to him after the gagging smoke.

He heard the swish of steel passing within inches of his flesh and reckoned where the "invisible" dwarf was. He lashed out with his hands trying to blindly grab his attacker, but clutched only empty air.

A moment later he cried out in alarm as he felt several inches of sharp metal bury itself in his left butt cheek. As his attacker drew the blade out Noxin whirled and clutched blindly again. His right hand closed briefly on a bit of fabric, but it slipped through his fingers. His left, however, latched onto a limb (it felt like a leg) and squeezed. The dwarf turned into a writhing ball of fury in his hands, but he lifted it up off the ground and got a firm grip on it with his other hand.

"WHERE ARE MY THINGS?!!" he bellowed into what he hoped was the thing's face.

In response, the dwarf giggled and stabbed him in the armpit. The pain was intense, and blood began to flow down his torso at once.

[Noxin #5] Gearing Up

"AAARRGGGHHH!!" Noxin roared. "DAMN YOU LITTLE BASTARD!!!"

He'd had enough and could feel the fury rising within him. He was beginning to feel hopeless here naked in the dark with this insane little monster stabbing him in every soft place that he had. In some men, that hopelessness would have led to fatalism, but Noxin wasn't other men. In him it brought an animal rage bubbling up from that part of his brain that was most concerned about survival.

Holding his arm snugly across the wriggling creature's midsection, he grabbed its arm with his other hand, slid his fist down it until he felt the pommel of its weapon against his flesh. Then he forced the blade down into the dwarf's torso. It resisted, of course, but its strength was no match for his. He sank the blade in as deep as he could, unmindful of the potential for stabbing himself if the sword went all the way through his tiny adversary. The dwarf squealed and Noxin repeated the action again for good measure.

It twisted its weapon arm away somehow, the blood flowing hotly down its body giving it some lubricant, and brought the blade up toward Noxin's face. He couldn't see it in the dark, but he could feel the flat of the sticky wet sword slide harmlessly across his cheek and part the hair on the side of his head.

The half-giant reached up and grabbed the wrist again, twisting it so savagely that bones splintered in the dwarf's arm as he turned the thing's weapon back on itself. It let out another cry of pain and Noxin cut it off by stabbing the sword into its torso again. He felt its body go slack in his arms.

He stabbed it again just to be sure.

He stood there in the dark, holding his breath, listening for the sound of approaching opponents, but heard nothing. So he let out the breath and with it went the rage, sliding out of him as easily as it entered, and leaving only fatigue in its wake. He dropped to his knees on the cold stone floor, dropped the dwarf in front of him and began patting it down for anything of use. It wore a buckler on its left arm, carried a light crossbow on a strap, and had a shortsword sticking out of its chest. All of the gear felt ridiculously small in Noxin's hands; he used a bigger blade when he ate dinner than the one the dwarf had carried.

Noxin touched the bleeding puncture beneath his left arm and begrudgingly admitted to himself that the sword might have some usefulness. He took it and used it to cut free the creature's belt pouch. There were coins within. Coins were always good...

He moved haltingly down the corridor back in the direction of the snake room where he'd woken up. He shuffled his feet and ran his hand along the left wall as he went, hunched forward, tip-tapping the stone floor in front of him with the dagger-sized shortsword.

After a time, he came upon a closed door. He listened, but heard nothing, so he pushed it open and almost gagged. The stench of filth and rot and sweat was thick within the chamber, but he heard no movement so he crept inside, feeling along the wall as he went. After only a few steps, his hand brushed against something familiar. He curled his fingers around it, recognizing it instantly: his hammer, propped against the wall like a common shovel or a broom.

He hefted the weapon and its enormous steel head flickered immediately with illusory flames, lighting up the chamber like a torch. Noxin had to momentarily shield his eyes from the welcome glow, but nonetheless he'd never before been so thankful to see light in his life. After he got finished grinning at his weapon, he held it out, playing its glow across the foul-smelling interior of the room.

It clearly served as some sort of communal living space for the dwarves. There was a filthy mound of furs heaped along one wall that seemed to serve as a bed. The far corner held a bucket for waste, and the walls around the bucket were streaked with fecal matter like the chaotic scrawls of a child's finger painting. Nearby squatted a low table, atop which were strewn the rotting remains of several large fish; Noxin could see the swarming maggots from where he stood. To the right of the door, lying in a heap was the rest of the half-giant's gear.

He fell on it like a hyena on carrion and in just a few minutes, he had kitted himself back up and quickly made sure that everything was in place. The dwarves had gone through everything, turning out his pack in an effort to find valuables... and then subsequently dumped everything in a disorganized pile.



He stepped back into the hall, looking both ways now that he had benefit of the light. The hall dead-ended to his left, The door to the snake room was across the hall and a bit farther along to his right. He had no strong desire to revisit that just now.

He could see the three bodies he'd left strewn in the hallway in front of another doorway, this one set into the same wall as the door to the dwarves' living quarters. The hallway had seemed much longer when he couldn't see anything and he closed the distance between himself and the bodies in three long strides. He'd already searched one, so he examined the other two, determining two things very quickly: beneath the rough robes they both wore they carried nothing of value, and both were female. One of them - he imagined it was the one who had almost choked him with smoke though he really couldn't be sure - had a bag slung across her torso. In the bag were loose coins carelessly mixed in with water-smoothed stones, yellowed and cracked bones, and bits of shed snakeskin. He picked out the coins and tossed the rest.

The room from which the dwarves had first issued was mostly empty. There was another body within, two other exits, and a lever set into the far corner. One of the doorways opened into a dark shaft that went downward well beyond the reach of his light. The lever set beside it was in the down position, but there was no indication what pulling it up might do.

The door in the other corner was tightly closed and offered no clues to what lay beyond.

[Noxin #6] Spitting Distance

Noxin pulled out his Goggles of Minute Seeing and strapped them on. Then, holding his hammer close to the lever for light, he started to examine the device. It seemed unremarkable: steel shaft, polished marble handle, set into a brass-plated slot in the wall. It was old, and the workmanship was very good, he could tell that much, but beyond that it was what it was: a mysterious lever in the side of a dungeon wall.

Muttering to himself, he stripped off the Goggles of Minute Seeing and held his hammer into the shaft. He peered downward, but the bubble of light from his hammer didn't project all that far, and he couldn't see anything but bare stone and darkness.

Noxin grumbled again and produced some spit and mucus from the back of his throat. He spat it down the shaft and then leaned over, his hand cupped around his ear as he listed for the splat.

Instead he heard a tiny voice below shout, "What the-!"

[Realms #450] Waiting for the Dwarves

"Wha- ??" Morier stammered, the pain from his broken leg momentarily forgotten in the face of this new, alarming development. "What just happened?"

"I don't know," Shamalin answered her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes never leaving the seated mummy. Morier noticed her hand was clasped tightly around the silver holy symbol that the cleric wore.

"Everybody alright?" the mummy hissed, and even though its voice was a rasp now, it was still recognizable as Ahlear's. It surveyed the group with shriveled eyes that were sunken into the shadows cast by the somber wrappings that covered his features. "Were there further losses? Where is Huzair? And how much time has passed?"

No one answered him. The three companions stared at the mummy with similar expressions of shocked disbelief on their faces.

"Nibble?!?" the Ahlear mummy looked around, searching for what in life had been his animal companion. The dire rat had fled the scene when the negative energy had swelled within the chamber, and so was no where about.

"What the #@!$?" Huzair's voice echoed around as he dropped down from the wall of the stairwell and deactivated his Ring of Blinking. "What happened to Ahlear?" The mummy turned to watch him as he side-stepped over to Shamalin, Morier and Anania.

"Huzair..." Ahlear groaned. "I am glad that you weren't killed."

"What the #@!$ happened to Ahlear?" Huzair repeated, his voice growing more agitated. His hands hovered near his spell component pouch.

"He's a... a..." Shamalin tried to say, but seemed unable to comprehend what had happened though she had seen it with her own eyes.

"I know what I seem to have become, but,-" Ahlear was moving slowly, stiffly to its feet and Anania took a challenging step forward, bow taut and arrow aimed squarely at the mummy's head. The mummy raised a cautioning hand. "Elf, stay your bow. I am still myself in mind and motives."

Anania lowered her bow slightly, looking at Morier, who was in his turn looking at Shamalin, who was squeezing her holy symbol and staring wide-eyed at the monstrosity that seemed somehow to house Ahlear's soul.

"Morier, Shamalin... is this a trick of some foul cave-dwelling demon??" the scout asked circling slowly, keeping her bow pointed low but nonetheless in the direction of the mummy.

"I don't know," Morier admitted. "It sounds like Ahlear but-"

"I assure you it is no trick," the mummy hissed, rising to its feet. "I have enough knowledge about my state to know that this was orchestrated, by the same powers that gave me my tattoo. But my goddess intervened slightly to keep me as independent as possible, and I thank lady Akadi for this with all my heart, even a non-beating one."

Thankful? Shamalin thought. To be trapped in a lifeless husk of dead flesh? What must that be like? She stopped herself from thinking about it, feeling a scream building in her chest that she didn't think she'd be able to stop once it got started. She tasted blood, realizing dimly that she'd bit down on her own tongue in an effort to suppress the rising hysteria.

"The tattoo?" Morier growled, but he was indicating the one on his own collarbone, not Ahlear's. "What is it? And why is it on me?" The mummy sighed, the sound of a sarcophagus lid dragging shut.

"It is a physical representation of the link we share," the mummy told him. "We are bound together now, you and I." Morier screamed in response to that, and half lurched up from the floor, sword in his hand. But he hadn't the strength to rise, and a wave of cold blackness fell over him as he moved his leg.

He collapsed, panting in frustration and pain, forehead pressed against the cold floor.

"Now, I cannot change your antipathy to what I am, but I will stay loyal to you all and the cause we have," the mummy went on as it went about the business of gathering Ahlear's gear. "You might say, me being this way is actually because I am entwined in your cause and the gods don't want to lose the foothold they have it seems... neither mine nor the evil ones who made this happen. What say you we regroup, replenish and then go kill us some dwarves?" The mummy offered up a horrifying rictus that was probably intended to be a reassuring smile. There was, however, nothing reassuring about the mummy's desiccated features and a smile seemed wholly out of place there.

Anania completed her circuit of the mummy, returning to the group from the other side. "Ahlear, is that really you?" she asked, incredulous.

"It is really me," the mummy rasped without looking up. It was working at securing the rhino hide armor to its emaciated frame.

"Well that is the strangest thing... but I don't have time to dwell on that," Anania said, refocusing herself on the task at hand. "Huzair, we have to get up and out of this tunnel. Did you see any way to reactivate the stairs while you were up top?"

The wizard did not seem to have heard her. His eyes were locked on the mummy, his expression one of dawning dread. Anania reached out a hand and shook the mage until he turned to look at her.

"Did you see how the dwarves are controlling the stairs?" she asked and he blinked at her, like a man just waking up from a long, deep slumber. "While you were above, did you see-"

"There was a lever," Huzair said at last. "Set into the wall at the top of the stairs."

"Good," Anania nodded. "Can you go back up and pull that lever and keep it pulled?"

"I will do whatever," the wizard said, looking upwards at the dark shaft. "I guess."

"What do you propose?" Shamalin asked, her voice even, but throaty. Her face remained pinched and she still hadn't let go of her holy symbol.

"I think we should climb the stairs again... in force," the elf said, matter-of-factly. "Huzair can turn invisible and open the lever. Then I can climb rapidly to the top and we can attempt to hold the top of the stairs until the rest of you get there." Shamalin nodded as she considered the plan.

"I don't know," she said at last. "I mean, invisibility sounds great if we are certain that they won't be able to see right through it. It would only take one spellcaster-dwarf to detect magic and ruin our chances. What about retreating and drawing them out?"

Now it was Anania's turn to voice opposition.

"I don't think turning back is the best bet at this point," she said. "We have come this far, and if we can just get passed these stairs-"

"That's a big 'if'" Shamalin countered. "The stairs seem risky and have been nothing but trouble for us. Are we sure Huzair can force the lever to keep the stairs in place?"

"Do not worry about me," the wizard said, confidently. "I can take care of them and myself." Shamalin eyed him skeptically.

"You have to remember that they seem pretty spell-impervious, Huzair," she reminded him.

"I do not have my Ring of Invisibility and would have to use my last invisibility scroll if I wanted to go unseen," the mage admitted. "Maybe I would just do it without being invisible, and retreat as needed." He shrugged.

"I will do whatever your all want," Huzair said and Morier barked laughter from the ground.

"Not words you hear much from Huzair," the albino said through gritted teeth. Then he looked at Shamalin and added, "I know I ask for a lot of healing. But do you think you could look at my leg?" The cleric's eyes grew wide and color rose quickly to her cheeks as she went about the business of belatedly healing her friends.



While Shamalin ministered to Morier, Huzair took a step toward the Ahlear mummy who was still busy securing strewn gear.

"Can I have my invisibility ring back?" the wizard called from a discreet distance. "Please." The mummy looked up at the mage and nodded.

"Yes," it rasped. ""Here it is." He presented the ring with an outstretched arm. But as it took a step forward, Huzair took a quick step back, recoiling as if he'd been offered a live scorpion rather than a ring.

"Put it down, please, and then I will pick it up!" he said quickly. Under his breath he muttered, "Damn it! I wish I paid attention. I cannot remember if Garan-Zak told me that mummies had energy drain or not. Why do I not listen!" The mummy chuckled - a sound like someone shaking a handful of gravel - and took a step backward.

"I am not able to drain you," Ahlear growled, nodding once. "But fair enough. I cannot hope for impossible miracles in a few minutes." Then he stooped and rolled the ring across the floor toward the mage with a fluid motion that did not seem to fit with what Huzair thought he knew about mummies. He crouched down and scooped it up.

"Well, I was not implying you would do it on purpose," the wizard assured the mummy and slipped the ring back on his finger. "We had better stop the small talk and be ready. Man, won't those freaks be surprised?"



In the end, they decided to wait out their attackers rather than go with Anania's plan.

The living huddled close beneath the concealment of Huzair's Invisibility Sphere spell, weapons ready and attention focused on the shaft above. The undead lurked in the shadows and searched the walls for some sign of a secret door. There was no movement or sound from above and the stairs did not reset.

Eventually, the duration of Huzair's spell expired, returning them all to visibility.

There was still no sign of the dwarves or a secret door.

"Well that was a waste of a scroll," Huzair groused. "I should start charging you guys for-"

"Did you see that?" Anania hissed, interrupting the wizard. She was squinting upward. "I thought I saw a light for a moment."

"I don't see anything," Morier replied.

"It's gone now," the elf maid admitted. "It was very feint, but I'm sure I-"

"What the-!" Huzair exclaimed, jumping as something warm and wet splatted down on his bald head. He touched the spot and his hands came away slick with phlegm.

Somebody had spat on him from the top of the shaft.

Huzair's expression soured at once and he quickly stepped back from beneath the stairwell lest he be targeted again. He wiped his head and cast the spittle onto the floor, then rubbed his hand on his pants, fearful of poison.

"My flower, is this human spit or slobber from a creature?" he asked Anania. "Can you tell the difference, my love?" The elf looked at him and started to speak when a voice from above called out.

"Who be down there!?" the voice yelled in the common tongue, muted somewhat by distance. "Ya friend or foe?!!"

Wicked cool with the forced undead transformation, now for a real shocker you should have Huzair get a forced paladin transformation..... You could sell tickets to that.

So are your half-giants psionic? Will Noxin be sporting some mental domination?

Hairy Minotaur said:

Wicked cool with the forced undead transformation,

Click to expand...

Well I really can't claim credit for that one. The mummy was his player's idea, not mine. And the rest of the group did not find an undead to be a welcome member of the party.

now for a real shocker you should have Huzair get a forced paladin transformation..... You could sell tickets to that.

Click to expand...

Isn't there a cursed belt that does that?

But surprisingly, you get to see something close to that idea a bit later in the story.

So are your half-giants psionic? Will Noxin be sporting some mental domination?

Click to expand...

Nope. The campaign has always been psionics-free, so Stomp! (or whatever it's called) is all he's got and all he'll get. I treat it like the Giant feat from Arcana Evolved that does the same thing essentially.