the Jester
Legend
Vann-La throws wide the door, and the party looks in to a half-ruined chamber. The walls show dozens of cracks, the marks of whatever terrible impact the structure felt when it fell from the surface and into its current subterranean resting place. A huge statue, holding a bowl in its hands, has fallen across the floor and creates a 20’ long obstacle. A shaggy, white-furred creature, filthy with spores and stained with slimes, rests in the back of the chamber, its tongue lolling from its mouth. It takes a moment for our heroes to realize that the creature is another quaggoth because of the mass of stuff clinging to its fur.
Slowly, its unfocused eyes train on our heroes, but before it moves, a clattering of bones sounds from all around the heroes. A mass of skeletons arises from the rubble!
“Look out!” shouts Kratos.
Something else steps from the shadows- another undead form- but this one has some withered flesh left on its bones. Torinn’s eyes widen; he recognizes it as some kind of wight. It cackles as it raises a desiccated hand and gestures at Sta’Ligir, unleashing a grave bolt! The wizard writhes in momentary pain. “Watch out for that one!” he cries.
The quaggoth rouses itself, standing and swaying on its feet. It almost looks... drunk.
That shouldn’t be, Cook thinks, they’re resistant to poison. He looks at the thick coating of spores and fungal excretions coating its fur. But if it had a thick layer of hallucinogens on it, the dwarf realizes, completely coating it, overwhelming its ability to resist them... who knows what it might do to its mind? Perhaps that is how quaggoths seek spiritual experiences- much as my folk might fast until they see visions, or the flighty elvenfolk might eat fey mushrooms or smoke their funny flowers...
The psychotic quaggoth roars and gives a great shake.
A huge puff of spores and other hallucinatory fungal material puffs into the air around it. Those close enough to be affected by the spores begin coughing. Their vision blurs. Things begin moving in the corners of their eyes, and strange sounds start to echo. Things distort and change, slow down, speed up. The heroes reel, dazed.
But not everyone is close enough to be caught in the hallucinogenic burst, nor does everyone close enough succumb to the effects of it. Our heroes begin to lay about them, driven by a fervent urge to escape these underground tunnels that they have been traveling for so long. The surface, they are sure, is close at hand- possibly just at the top of this tower!- and so they fight with all their hearts. Their new ally, Rathagos, proves quite capable with his bow, landing arrow after arrow in the enemy, and the skeletons fall quickly. The wight does not last long; and the psychotic quaggoth is confused to begin with, and cannot long withstand the force our heroes pour into the attack.
Passing through the chamber, our heroes come into an old courtyard that is the site of an open-air garden; there is no roof, save the cavern ceiling. Old, dead plants and a large, extinct oak are the only things left in here. More evidence that the place came from the surface, muses Nixie. I doubt very much whether an oak could grow here without sunlight, especially to be that large.
The far side of the courtyard has a set of double doors leading out of it into the tower proper. They pass quickly through it and into another chamber, this one with a staircase leading up along the right hand wall. A single door leads out as well, and the floor has a fair amount of rubble scattered on it. Our heroes start for the stairs, only to find more undead lurking- but this time, the monsters are mere insubstantial shadows that drain their strength. Worse yet, as the party struggles with them, the door opens and three more wights join the fray. The party is pressed hard; the wights suck out their very life energy, leaving them unable to sustain much damage, while the shadows reduce their ability to deal damage. Still, Torinn is a cleric, and his ability to unleash radiant energy proves pivotal. The light sears the shadows and makes the wights fall back in pain, and the party presses their advantage. It is a tough battle, but one that our heroes win.
Afterwards, they spend a few moments healing up and catching their collective breath, then search the area the wights came from. It turns out to be an old baracks, with several bunks in it, as well as a pair of locked chests. Nixie manages to coax these open with a little time and a set of lock picks, and the party finds 223 gold pieces and a suit of scale mail armor. Sta’Ligir and Torinn look it over, and both conclude that it is magical; after some experimentation, the group discerns that it is +1 scale mail of durability.
“Now let’s see what’s upstairs,” Kratos suggests.
The party ascends past three shattered, fallen floors and up to a final story of the tower, surrounded by earth and stone. Much of the floor has crumbled, and the rest looks relatively unstable. There is no obvious exit; the four windows open onto a mix of stone and packed earth. The ceiling is 30’ overhead. It looks like any attempt at excavation could be disastrous. It seems as though the tower fell down into the earth when a huge amount of empty space below it collapsed. A glance at the ceiling confirms the party’s hopes: it doesn’t look like the roof has sustained a lot of damage, nor does it appear to have much weight upon it. Better yet- there seems to be a very faint light filtering in from some cracks in the ceiling.
Escape at last?
Yes!
It takes some work- the party must first knock a hole in the ceiling, then manage to get even the weak climbers up the remnants of the shaft that the place dug when it broke through the surface and began its fall- but soon enough, the party emerges atop a mountain! They can see a city- presumably Fandelose- shrouded in the smoke of hundreds of fires in the distance. It looks to be about thirty miles away, and most of the terrain is mountainous; to Sta’Ligir, it looks to be about a six-day journey to the city.
“It might already be besieged,” Vann-La points out grimly. “Look at all that smoke!”
But Heimall disagrees. “I don’t think so. I bet that’s just the smoke that the city itself puts out from all its foundries, hearth fires and stuff. I think we could see the armies surrounding the city even from here if it was under siege- and the land surrounding it looks mostly green and yellow.”
“Fields,” nods Nixie, “and harvest time isn’t far off.”
“Let’s go,” Kratos says.
***
The party travels for several days before they bottom out of the mountains. Along the way, they are attacked once by strange monsters with the head and wicked antlers of a stag, the body of a terrible bird of prey and the shadow of a man. Though they are vicious and powerful, our heroes manage to fight them off, slaying two and driving the others away.
After that, our heroes keep an eye to the sky.
On the afternoon of their third day back on the surface, the party stumbles upon a strange scene. Within a large clearing within the wooded mountains that they are descending, the party finds a large hide, made of the skins of multiple humanoids stitched together, stretched taut between four stakes. On the center of it is a human, obviously dead for days at this point, but clearly staked out. Bones and scattered bits of the remains of other creatures litter the stitched hide.
“What the hell is this?” exclaims Nowhere Jones.
“Creepy,” mutters Nixie.
“Over there!” exclaims Vann-La, pointing.
Across the clearing from them is a trio of strange hounds. They seem to be on fire. Foul, sulphurous smoke pours off of them. Now that the heroes have spotted them, they give up any pretensions of stealth and begin to growl as they advance.
“Hell hounds!” exclaims Sta’Ligir.
Our heroes begin to draw weapons and scatter into an attack formation. Vann-La carefully looks around- and spies a small cottage, hidden in the brush on one side of the clearing. Kratos fires an eldritch blast at one of the hell hounds as it enters range, but it only growls louder when he stings it. Rathagos begins firing arrows swiftly into the hell hounds, the string of his bow thrumming with each shot.
The party and hounds crash into one another, struggling for supremacy. Flames gout from the hounds’ mouths, engulfing several of our heroes. There are cries of pain, but these are followed by yelps as more arrows, and then hammers and mauls, strike home. Nixie destroys a hound with witchfire, and as it dies, she misty steps into a better position to strike the next hound.
Suddenly, she cries out. Snakes that only she can see appear all around her and start attacking her! She cries out in fear as phantom fangs bite into her. Pain runs through her and her head feels as though it is about to split.
“Help!” she cries. “Get these things off of me!!”
“Huh?” asks Vann-La. “What things?”
Then a new opponent becomes visible as a blast of balefire shoots out from behind the cottage, catching Nixie in the chest and blasting her unconscious with a scream.
“It’s a tiefling!” shouts Kratos.
“Oh, I got that, then,” Nowhere Jones grins, vanishing into the brush to approach.
Meanwhile, Torinn, tired of the party being locked down by the hell hounds, belches out a blast of lightning. ZZZKKK![/i] The one that Rathagos has been focused on spasms and dies. The final hound reacts by becoming even more ferocious, savaging and burning Vann-La. The Kree warrior groans in pain and unleashes a comeback strike- but misses. “I could use some healing here!” she calls.
Unfortunately for Vann-La, Kratos is too far away to help her. He is already charging towards the tiefling. Seeing the warlord coming, the tiefling- whose name, for the record, is Zeevil- pulls out a wicked-looking, wavy-bladed dagger.
Kratos swings his maul and smashes into the tiefling’s hip.
With a cry, the tiefling vanishes, teleporting away. He reappears, limping, in some brush, and fires balefire at Kratos, engulfing the warlord in flames.
“Bastard!” cries Kratos, rushing towards him again.
Meanwhile, Nowhere Jones is stymied by the sudden vanishing of his target, so instead of attacking the tiefling, he springs out and unleashes a torturous strike on the last of the hell hounds, slaying it.
Zeevil cries out in rage. “My dogs!” he snarls.
Without aid, he is quickly overwhelmed. Nowhere Jones strikes the final blow as his kindred tries to flee.
***
The cottage turns out to hold an ornate box locked with a clever puzzle lock. Nixie manages to trick it open after some work, and it proves to contain nearly 300 gold pieces! The tiefling also proves to have a pair of healing potions in his belt, so our heroes take them and add them to the party’s treasure.
They continue on, unaware that death is just around the corner for one of them.
Next Time: The great log crossing- and the first pc death in my 4e campaign!
Slowly, its unfocused eyes train on our heroes, but before it moves, a clattering of bones sounds from all around the heroes. A mass of skeletons arises from the rubble!
“Look out!” shouts Kratos.
Something else steps from the shadows- another undead form- but this one has some withered flesh left on its bones. Torinn’s eyes widen; he recognizes it as some kind of wight. It cackles as it raises a desiccated hand and gestures at Sta’Ligir, unleashing a grave bolt! The wizard writhes in momentary pain. “Watch out for that one!” he cries.
The quaggoth rouses itself, standing and swaying on its feet. It almost looks... drunk.
That shouldn’t be, Cook thinks, they’re resistant to poison. He looks at the thick coating of spores and fungal excretions coating its fur. But if it had a thick layer of hallucinogens on it, the dwarf realizes, completely coating it, overwhelming its ability to resist them... who knows what it might do to its mind? Perhaps that is how quaggoths seek spiritual experiences- much as my folk might fast until they see visions, or the flighty elvenfolk might eat fey mushrooms or smoke their funny flowers...
The psychotic quaggoth roars and gives a great shake.
A huge puff of spores and other hallucinatory fungal material puffs into the air around it. Those close enough to be affected by the spores begin coughing. Their vision blurs. Things begin moving in the corners of their eyes, and strange sounds start to echo. Things distort and change, slow down, speed up. The heroes reel, dazed.
But not everyone is close enough to be caught in the hallucinogenic burst, nor does everyone close enough succumb to the effects of it. Our heroes begin to lay about them, driven by a fervent urge to escape these underground tunnels that they have been traveling for so long. The surface, they are sure, is close at hand- possibly just at the top of this tower!- and so they fight with all their hearts. Their new ally, Rathagos, proves quite capable with his bow, landing arrow after arrow in the enemy, and the skeletons fall quickly. The wight does not last long; and the psychotic quaggoth is confused to begin with, and cannot long withstand the force our heroes pour into the attack.
Passing through the chamber, our heroes come into an old courtyard that is the site of an open-air garden; there is no roof, save the cavern ceiling. Old, dead plants and a large, extinct oak are the only things left in here. More evidence that the place came from the surface, muses Nixie. I doubt very much whether an oak could grow here without sunlight, especially to be that large.
The far side of the courtyard has a set of double doors leading out of it into the tower proper. They pass quickly through it and into another chamber, this one with a staircase leading up along the right hand wall. A single door leads out as well, and the floor has a fair amount of rubble scattered on it. Our heroes start for the stairs, only to find more undead lurking- but this time, the monsters are mere insubstantial shadows that drain their strength. Worse yet, as the party struggles with them, the door opens and three more wights join the fray. The party is pressed hard; the wights suck out their very life energy, leaving them unable to sustain much damage, while the shadows reduce their ability to deal damage. Still, Torinn is a cleric, and his ability to unleash radiant energy proves pivotal. The light sears the shadows and makes the wights fall back in pain, and the party presses their advantage. It is a tough battle, but one that our heroes win.
Afterwards, they spend a few moments healing up and catching their collective breath, then search the area the wights came from. It turns out to be an old baracks, with several bunks in it, as well as a pair of locked chests. Nixie manages to coax these open with a little time and a set of lock picks, and the party finds 223 gold pieces and a suit of scale mail armor. Sta’Ligir and Torinn look it over, and both conclude that it is magical; after some experimentation, the group discerns that it is +1 scale mail of durability.
“Now let’s see what’s upstairs,” Kratos suggests.
The party ascends past three shattered, fallen floors and up to a final story of the tower, surrounded by earth and stone. Much of the floor has crumbled, and the rest looks relatively unstable. There is no obvious exit; the four windows open onto a mix of stone and packed earth. The ceiling is 30’ overhead. It looks like any attempt at excavation could be disastrous. It seems as though the tower fell down into the earth when a huge amount of empty space below it collapsed. A glance at the ceiling confirms the party’s hopes: it doesn’t look like the roof has sustained a lot of damage, nor does it appear to have much weight upon it. Better yet- there seems to be a very faint light filtering in from some cracks in the ceiling.
Escape at last?
Yes!
It takes some work- the party must first knock a hole in the ceiling, then manage to get even the weak climbers up the remnants of the shaft that the place dug when it broke through the surface and began its fall- but soon enough, the party emerges atop a mountain! They can see a city- presumably Fandelose- shrouded in the smoke of hundreds of fires in the distance. It looks to be about thirty miles away, and most of the terrain is mountainous; to Sta’Ligir, it looks to be about a six-day journey to the city.
“It might already be besieged,” Vann-La points out grimly. “Look at all that smoke!”
But Heimall disagrees. “I don’t think so. I bet that’s just the smoke that the city itself puts out from all its foundries, hearth fires and stuff. I think we could see the armies surrounding the city even from here if it was under siege- and the land surrounding it looks mostly green and yellow.”
“Fields,” nods Nixie, “and harvest time isn’t far off.”
“Let’s go,” Kratos says.
***
The party travels for several days before they bottom out of the mountains. Along the way, they are attacked once by strange monsters with the head and wicked antlers of a stag, the body of a terrible bird of prey and the shadow of a man. Though they are vicious and powerful, our heroes manage to fight them off, slaying two and driving the others away.
After that, our heroes keep an eye to the sky.
On the afternoon of their third day back on the surface, the party stumbles upon a strange scene. Within a large clearing within the wooded mountains that they are descending, the party finds a large hide, made of the skins of multiple humanoids stitched together, stretched taut between four stakes. On the center of it is a human, obviously dead for days at this point, but clearly staked out. Bones and scattered bits of the remains of other creatures litter the stitched hide.
“What the hell is this?” exclaims Nowhere Jones.
“Creepy,” mutters Nixie.
“Over there!” exclaims Vann-La, pointing.
Across the clearing from them is a trio of strange hounds. They seem to be on fire. Foul, sulphurous smoke pours off of them. Now that the heroes have spotted them, they give up any pretensions of stealth and begin to growl as they advance.
“Hell hounds!” exclaims Sta’Ligir.
Our heroes begin to draw weapons and scatter into an attack formation. Vann-La carefully looks around- and spies a small cottage, hidden in the brush on one side of the clearing. Kratos fires an eldritch blast at one of the hell hounds as it enters range, but it only growls louder when he stings it. Rathagos begins firing arrows swiftly into the hell hounds, the string of his bow thrumming with each shot.
The party and hounds crash into one another, struggling for supremacy. Flames gout from the hounds’ mouths, engulfing several of our heroes. There are cries of pain, but these are followed by yelps as more arrows, and then hammers and mauls, strike home. Nixie destroys a hound with witchfire, and as it dies, she misty steps into a better position to strike the next hound.
Suddenly, she cries out. Snakes that only she can see appear all around her and start attacking her! She cries out in fear as phantom fangs bite into her. Pain runs through her and her head feels as though it is about to split.
“Help!” she cries. “Get these things off of me!!”
“Huh?” asks Vann-La. “What things?”
Then a new opponent becomes visible as a blast of balefire shoots out from behind the cottage, catching Nixie in the chest and blasting her unconscious with a scream.
“It’s a tiefling!” shouts Kratos.
“Oh, I got that, then,” Nowhere Jones grins, vanishing into the brush to approach.
Meanwhile, Torinn, tired of the party being locked down by the hell hounds, belches out a blast of lightning. ZZZKKK![/i] The one that Rathagos has been focused on spasms and dies. The final hound reacts by becoming even more ferocious, savaging and burning Vann-La. The Kree warrior groans in pain and unleashes a comeback strike- but misses. “I could use some healing here!” she calls.
Unfortunately for Vann-La, Kratos is too far away to help her. He is already charging towards the tiefling. Seeing the warlord coming, the tiefling- whose name, for the record, is Zeevil- pulls out a wicked-looking, wavy-bladed dagger.
Kratos swings his maul and smashes into the tiefling’s hip.
With a cry, the tiefling vanishes, teleporting away. He reappears, limping, in some brush, and fires balefire at Kratos, engulfing the warlord in flames.
“Bastard!” cries Kratos, rushing towards him again.
Meanwhile, Nowhere Jones is stymied by the sudden vanishing of his target, so instead of attacking the tiefling, he springs out and unleashes a torturous strike on the last of the hell hounds, slaying it.
Zeevil cries out in rage. “My dogs!” he snarls.
Without aid, he is quickly overwhelmed. Nowhere Jones strikes the final blow as his kindred tries to flee.
***
The cottage turns out to hold an ornate box locked with a clever puzzle lock. Nixie manages to trick it open after some work, and it proves to contain nearly 300 gold pieces! The tiefling also proves to have a pair of healing potions in his belt, so our heroes take them and add them to the party’s treasure.
They continue on, unaware that death is just around the corner for one of them.
Next Time: The great log crossing- and the first pc death in my 4e campaign!
Last edited:
