Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
Karl had been working hard on the imposing stone door at the back of the Hall of Thruthgelmir. Several times he had almost given up, as it seemed that every time he opened a section of the lock, some bizarre illogical counter-measure would activate and the lock would get more complex, not less. Still, he had persevered, and finally his patience was rewarded as the door swung open to reveal a descending stone spiral staircase.
Gleefully calling to the others, Karl conjured a magical light and peered down. The tight curve of the stairs meant he couldn’t see far, but as his companions approached, buckling on armour and weapons, the Gnome had a sudden, brilliant idea. Grabbing the now-cleaned skull of Prince Kindrbode, he clambered inside and hurled himself down the steps, bouncing, clattering and tumbling all the way. About half-way down it did occour to him that perhaps there was no bottom and he’d simply spin on through all eternity, or that he finish in a dreadful thud against a harsh wall, but instead the stairwell opened into a room and the skull skittered across the floor before coming to rest.
Karl clambered out, staggered, looked around blearily and was violently sick.
A few minutes later the rest of the group, having run down the stairs trying to keep up, arrived, lit by Sigurd’s own magelight. The room they found themselves in was clearly Prince Kindrbode’s bedroom – a filthy, refuse-strewn mess. In one corner a mattress, crawling with bugs, and in another a few scattered clothes. The stench was appalling and there appeared to be nothing of value except for an exit through the north wall. It was swiftly taken advantage of.
Giant-sized footprints lead further into the caves underground, finishing at a junction with a river. The water was tinged red, and Aengus speculated that this was water from the River of Knives, still stained with the rust from the iron deposits. With no other option, the party continue to follow the river, and after half an hour of walking a distant light emerged. The light of day penetrated weakly into the cave, along with a tremendous low rumbling roar.
Blinking in the sudden light, the companions emerged to a great vision of Nothing. They were stood on a small ledge, partway down a huge cliff. Above them, they could see jutting rocks and the high edge of the cliff, and ahead of them clouds, mist and spray disappearing into a grey bleakness lit only with the occasional rumble of thunder and far-distant flash of lightning. Below and to the sides the cliff extended to the edge of vision with nothing but a narrow ledge as a way down. Roping themselves together, they began to move down.
The journey was slow, monotonous and dangerous. Jutting rocks wore at the ropes, the path was slippery with water and occasionally other waterfalls shot from the cliff with great force, arcing off into the mist below. A cold wind blew and as the hours passed they took more and more time sheltering in small caves against the weather. Some caves extended further back into the wall, and it became apparent through the days of their journey that there were evidence of workings in the stone. Each layer showed more ancient work than the last, firstly appearing hundreds of years old, then millennia. There were rooms and hallways, maybe even evidence of long-gone cities.
Sigurd explained her theory as they walked, that each civilization had built on the work of those previously, striving ever upwards to escape the depths they had started from. Moving inside the cliff and following the pathways, climbs and slides down the group continued.
Aengus stopped suddenly at one point, smiled grimly, then continued walking.
“What was that?” asked Thunder. “You looked as though you’d seen a ghost.”
“Not exactly,” replied the Eladrin. “It’s just… I can feel my kin are getting closer. Or me, closer to them.”
“Hang on a minute,” said Iben. “I thought Eladrin came from the Feyworld, not from miles underground in dank caverns.”
“About that,” Aengus said. “I suppose this would be a good time to tell you that only my mother was an Eladrin…”
Note: This came as a bit of a shock, as you can imagine. Martin, who plays Aengus, had been dropping some hints for some time that he wasn't all he appeared to be, but to find out he's half-Drow was a bit unsettling.
Next time: The party finally meets some other intelligent life down here!
For several days now, the party had been descending within an apparently endless series of tunnels, caves and caverns, following their departure from Thruthgelmir and the lair of Prince Kindrbode. Now, the stone began to turn a faint shade of green, the traces of civilization slowly growing less and less. These caves were clearly very, very old.
Finally, after even Karl’s cheery voice had given out and his spirits were flagging, they came finally to a sign of inhabitation. Ahead of them, the ground abruptly ended in a great blackness as the roof soared up overhead out of range of their light. A platform of stone jutted outwards in a semi-circle, and at the point of it a huge chain was anchored, disappearing off into the darkness.
Karl noticeably brightened at the sight. “Finally!” he exclaimed. “Something to do!” Checking his possessions were securely attached, he scampered out onto the chain, his small, deft feet easily finding purchase and helping him move along. Around him he could feel an enormous sense of space, something he hadn’t noticed in more than a week now since going underground. He almost cartwheeled in joy, before catching himself and sternly reminding himself to stay focused. After a few minutes he found a huge loop of metal that hooped up over the chain, leaving a giant space for him to run through. Ladders were attached to the outside of the hoop with another chain leading up into the darkness. Quickly, Karl ascended one ladder and moved up, trying to see where the chain was leading to.
Back on the platform the others were alarmed to see lights in two of the incoming tunnels. Not knowing whether those that approached were friend or foe, they pulled to one side warily. A small group of humanoids approached, Dwarf-like in stature but somehow darker and as if they had been somehow corrupted. Aengus spoke quietly to the other, identifying these creatures as Derro and not to be trusted for a moment. The two Derro had several Orc slaves with them, their hands bound with thick ropes and forbidding iron collars around their necks. The Derro glanced once at the companions, and then seemed to dismiss them as irrelevant.
From another tunnel two lizard-like creatures emerged, heavily armed and armoured. A foul smell emanated from them, identifying them to Aengus as Troglodytes, and as dangerous foes. They seemed wary of the group, keeping a safe distance both from them and from the Derro. They looked at the chain, and then settled down to wait, giving nothing away.
Back up the ladder above the hoop, Karl was surprised to see lights in the distance. He could feel the chain starting gently to vibrate as though something was travelling along it. Something big.
Swooping forwards out of the darkness, lit by lights on the deck, came a contraption such that Karl had never seen before. It was like a large sailing-ship, but instead of sails it had two huge balloons extended over the top of it. Each had a bright light situation under it, illuminating the deck.
Under the ship were a selection of gears, cogs and levers, moving ceaselessly as it clanked it’s way along. The chain that Karl had walked along disappeared into an opening at the base of the ship, at the front, and it seemed as though the peculiar vessel was somehow moving along this chain. Karl could see that it would fit through the hoop that he was on top of, and in a moment of inspiration he dropped on to one of the balloons as it went past, snuffing his own light source as he did so. The top of the balloon had several ropes criss-crossing it, and he was able to hang on without difficulty.
The rest of the party were now able to see the ship as it slowed and pulled into the platform, coming to an easy halt. A moment later, a ramp was lowered to the ground, revealing a dark-skinned humanoid figure at the top of it.
“Drow!” whispered Aengus. “Be very careful.”
“Why?” remarked Sigurd sardonically. “Is he an uncle of yours or something?”
The figure was slender in build with light hair, and surveyed the people below him imperiously before gesturing at the Derro to come forwards. Producing a pouch of some kind, the Derro pressed it into the Drow’s hand and advanced past him onto the deck of the ship. The Troglodytes followed immediately afterwards, also paying with a small pouch. Finally, the Drow turned his attention to the party and spoke in Elven, asking their business.
A very swift conference decided that Aengus was the only one who could talk back to him, and the Warlock stepped forwards to use his diplomatic skills. After some discussion, the remains of the alchemical poison were offered up, along with a pouch of copper coins from Iben. Seeing that the Drow was about to strike Iben for his poor offer, Aegnus smoothly stepped in and spoke again, sweetening his words and (reluctantly) offering the gems that had been taken from the Hall. With a more graceful demeanour, the Drow inclined his head and invited them on board, before heading down an interior set of stairs, locking the hatch behind him to leave the passengers on deck.
In a single smooth motion, the ramp folded back up on to the ship and the whole vessel rotated one-hundred-and-eighty degrees on the chain, causing Karl to almost lose his grip in surprise. As the ship began to move back along the chain, he dropped a small message onto the deck near Aengus’ feet, letting his liege lord know he was there.
The ship sped swiftly along the chain, travelling through several of the giant hoops. Eventually it reached another wall, and as it got closer the group could see a large hole had been cut in it. Passing neatly through, the voyage continued in a second cavern. The engineering was astonishing, far surpassing anything that the companions had seen so far on their journeys.
“I need to warn you about the Derro,” spoke Aengus quietly. “They are Dwarf-kin, and share many of their skills and habits. But they are also dark and twisted, with a love of magical experimentation and slavery. They combine the two, making twisted monstrosities from their slaves to do their work for them.”
Iben shuddered at the thought, the human picturing in his mind what might happen should he be captured. Aengus continued “Lastly, they have formidable mental powers that they use in battle and to communicate amongst themselves. Do not trust, and never believe what they say. They lie more easily than any other race before back-stabbing and capturing their former ‘friends’.”
Silence descended at this words, and Iben glanced at the Derro – only to meet their gaze, as they stared, unblinking, at the adventurers before turning back to each other.
Hours passed, cold and silent, as the ship sped ever onwards.
As the Drow ship sailed ever onwards, silent and smooth along the massive chain, the time passed slowly. After some hours of travel, a sudden whispering voice raised Aengus from thoughts of his family.
“My Lord,” whispered the voice of Karl from above, facilitated by his magical gloves. “In the distance, there appears to be a set of strange lights.”
Glancing around, Aengus saw that the Troglodytes seemed worried, engaged in quiet conversation and strapping on their weapons. The Derro also were placing their Orc slaves between them and the edge of the ship. A second later Aengus could see the lights in the distance. They seemed to be flashing, and then a moment later as the ship turned he could see more clearly. He nudged the others and brought their attention to bear on it.
Sigurd spoke first, in wonder. “There appear to be rolling clouds of fire in the distance,” she said. “And we’re heading towards them. What astonishing magic!”
Iben, gripping his axe tightly, seemed less impressed. “We have no cover or shelter!” he cried. “We are sure to be burned. Can we attract the attention of the Drow below and warn them?”
Aengus moved swiftly in response, trying to get the attention of the Drow who were sealed in the lower levels of the ship. His efforts were to no avail, though, and only a few moments later the companions were swept towards the burning cloud with great speed. The glow surrounded the ship and the temperature rose sharply to uncomfortable levels. Larger sparks within the cloud suddenly resolved themselves into bat-like forms, swooping around the ship. Two larger glows could also be seen at the far edge of the cloud, closing rapidly on the ship. The bats, half-a-dozen of them, uttered battle-cries and dived in to attack.
The Derro stood firm, apparently using their mind powers to defend themselves although there was no visible effect. The Troglodytes simply did their best to duck and cover as the fiery forms swept past, aiming for various members of the party. Drawing weapons, the group fought back as best they could.
Karl, still on top of the balloons, shot one-handed with his small crossbow, peppering the incoming creatures with bolts. Thunder stood motionless, tracking one creature only with his eyes before ducking to one side and striking at it with his sword. The blow sent the creature sliding into the side of the ship as he deflected its attack run. The impact shook the ship, and Karl had to grab on tightly to the ropes lashing the balloon to the ship to stop himself sliding off and down into oblivion.
As another of the fire-bats dived in, Sigurd utilized her intelligence. Reasoning that a creature of fire would be vulnerable to magical attacks of ice, she fashioned an Icy Hand that grabbed the incoming creature and held it immobile. Other bats attacked the Troglodytes, with yet another killing an Orc in a single motion, burning straight through it. Sigurd lost her concentration as the body slumped to the floor, and the creature that she had held wriggled free of it’s magical entrapment, leaving a trail of fire as it swooped at her. Her dodge wasn’t quite quick enough and she was left with a burn along one arm.
The bats continued to swoop and dart around – Iben screamed as he channeled the primal spirit of the Frost Wolf, smashing his axe into one fire bat as it got close to him. Aengus followed up immediately with a curse and an Eldritch Spear, the green glow lighting up the underside of the balloons in a lurid glow as the curse damaged the creature further.
The Derro seemed strangely still, but their concentrated faces showed that they were waging war on a different level. As Karl shot again, missing this time, Thunder drove his sword through the cursed bat and Aengus reacted to transfer his curse to all of the other creatures with a wave of his magical rod. The Icy Hand that Sigurd had created grabbed hold of another bat – but then the tide turned as the ship entered the burning cloud.
Aengus threw up his hands in a vain attempt to deflect what he was sure was immolation, but the magical protections of the ship activated. A shimmering magical field encased the ship, protecting it from the firestorm’s ravages, but the two glowing spots within closed and landed. Each was around nine feet high, a small cyclone of flame with long, trailing arms like whips. They appeared to look around them, choosing their targets, before lashing out with long tendrils of flame. Another Orc slave was slaughtered.
Thunder turned to face this new threat, sword raised high. Around him, he could see and almost feel his companions moving their focus to this new threat.
We are becoming a unit, thought the Warforged. I hope our togetherness sees us through.
Next time: The battle continues, as the temperature rises!
The two Fire Lashers stood towards the ends of the deck, one battling and burning the Troglodytes as they did their best to fight back, the other engaging the party and the Derro. Around the ship, the remaining fire bats still circled.
One circled a little too close, and Iben took a second to charge it and wound it, his magical axe rending the body hidden under the flames. It screamed at him in return and retreated.
Aengus sized up the situation, considering his options. These new creatures were clearly more dangerous than the bats, and so he concentrated his mind and utilized one of his more powerful curses. Delivering a psychic attack, he prevented the creature from being able to perceive any of his allies. The Derro followed up with their own psychic assault, further weakening the creature, and then moved their Orc slaves to protect themselves.
There was a pause in the battle as the companions took stock – a pause that was filled by the sound of a descending Gnome. Karl, gripping a rope in one hand, swung down and continued to shoot at the creatures attacking his friends. The bolts clattered off the deck or disappeared off the edge of the ship and as Karl landed his drew his shortsword and lashed out again, before reversing his stroke and stabbing. This final blow landed properly and the fire lasher recoiled at the blade’s bite. Thunder took advantage, opening a further gap for Iben by driving his blade into the creature’s side as Sigurd crushed a fire bat in his Icy Hand and blasted several more with a Colour Spray.
Roaring in pain, the creature seized upon one of the Orc slaves and flung it bodily over the side of the ship, but before it could do more Iben attacked again with his Axe, crashing it into where you’d expect it’s head to be. The creature flickered in response, seeming hurt by the attack.
Sigurd found herself beset by fire bats as they flitted around her, almost setting her clothes alight. Coming to her aid, Aengus summoned winds of Fey power and battered the creatures. Although they were all affected, none dropped from the sky. At the far end of the ship, the Troglodytes were engaged in a deadly battle with the other lasher. It looked as though they couldn’t find as they flailed away at it, but the companions knew that keeping it occupied was just as important.
As the battle raged, Karl stepped quickly around, his sword a blur of parry and riposte as he sought to deflect the attacks of the creature against him. The Lasher caught Iben round the neck, trying to pull him in close to it, and at the same time two fire bats swooped through the young human, burning him more. As they exited his body, Sigurd caught them in a Thunderwave, disintegrating one but Iben’s beard still caught on fire. However, with the Frost Wolf Rage still burning in his eyes, the fire was quickly extinguished.
The Derro continued their mental assault on the lasher, and then Thunder stepped around a lashing flame-tendril and drove his sword into the heart of the creature. As it writhed and died on his blade, the Cleric of Kord directed it’s dying energies to Iben and watched his burns heal up in a burst of soft light [1]. As the rest of the group swiftly finished off the rest of the fire bats, the other Lasher immolated the second Troglodyte and leapt back off the ship, fleeing into the darkness as the Drow vessel exited the burning cloud.
Everything went quiet, apart from some small plink noises from Thunder as his metal body cooled from the heat.
Note: [1] A Healing Strike, and very useful it was too!
Next time: I miss a session, and the party encounter some unfriendly creatures without both Thunder and Aldis in attendance. Find out how a party of one controller and three strikers gets on.
As the vessel continued on into the darkness, the attention of the heroes was drawn to a sputtering sound coming from one of the burners overhead. The flames from that burner started to dim, and the vessel slowly began to assume a significant list.
"Well that's not good" commented Aengus "anyone got any good ideas how to fix that?"
As if by way of answer, the trapdoor to below slammed open, and the Drow captain appeared on deck. Looking up at the burner, his face assumed a mask of concentration, and arcane phrases spilled from his lips.
Some minutes of this passed, with the captain apparently oblivous to the useful (and less useful) comments from the party. Finally he turned, and sneered to the party. "Your efforts to defend the ship were inadequate. We will need to... lighten the load, by a hundred or so pounds. Or rather you will. Attend to it."
Ignoring shouted questions from the party, he swiftly returned downstairs, and with a slam of the trapdoor, was gone.
"Lighten the load?" said Aengus "How are we supposed to do that? Throw our gear overboard?"
"I suspect, given the pointed looks our esteemed captain gave us," interjected Thunder "that a hundred or so pounds strangely enough matched the weight of a passenger, and we were supposed to choose who goes over the edge..."
"Thow someone overboard? That's inhuman!" cried an outraged Sigurd. "I have no love for Derro or Troglodytes, but I'm not going to be party to murdering one of them like this!"
"Maybe we could join forces with the others and storm belowdecks?" mused Aengus, and the band of heroes began quickly forming a plan...
A scream from behind them cut this planning short - turning to see what had occurred, one of the troglodytes had disappeared! The remaining troglodytes looked around in confusion. "What in the spirits' name happened?" whispered Iben, only to be answered by a low giggle from above.....
With the load reduced, the vessels list seemed to right itself, and it picked up speed. After another day (or more?) on board, some soft low lights began to appear out of the gloom far ahead. As their eyes adjusted to the scale, what seemed like scattered lights resolved into a sprawling city carved out of a colossal stalactite, hangng from the ceiling.
As the ship sped toward the city, it seems that our heroes have reached their destination......
__________________ el gobierno confiscará sus pollos
With a loud klunk, the vessel came to a halt on the platform. The heroes looked at each other uncertainly, as beyond that cast by the burners only the most occasional light broke up the overpowering gloom surrounding them. Once again, their 'Captain' appeared on deck, this time with his Grimlock minions surrounding him. With nary a word, the Derro picked up their gear and departed the vessel - followed by the surviving Troglodyte.
Looking at the party the drow sneered "Wait here - I must see if the authorities will permit you entrance. Do not move."
Naturally, our heroes disregarded their instructions, and promptly attempted to break into the lower decks, discovering that the Grimlocks served as the motive power source for the vessel, as well as bodyguards for the drow.
After some time, the drow returned, and with a sinister smile said "You are free to... enter the city. So..." indicating the ramp, "You go now."
Suspiciously, the party assembled their equipment and trooped off the vessel, with a brief hiccup caused by Aengus engaging in some strange Drow ritual, that appeared to involve some crotch-grabbing. Very odd[*]. Moving away from the ship with just the lights from their lamps (and Sigurd's sunrod) the darkness surrounding them became even more oppressive. Climbing the steps up into the city, with no sounds other than their footsteps, the party's unease grew. Finally reaching the top of the stairs, the party's spirits lifted as they could see a dimly lit area ahead.
Those spirits soon sunk again, as the true horror ahead of them became clear.....
(Attempting to pick the Drows pocket - Thievery check... 1! Followed by a Bluff check... 20!)
__________________ el gobierno confiscará sus pollos
In the dim light, the party could see a large ruined courtyard, shrouded in webs, with some sort of metal netting above. Cautiously entering the courtyard, the true horror of this place became apparent...
Like some horrific drow contemprary art piece, the webs were filled with bodies. Dozens of bodies - drow, human, elven and others. All horribly tortured, and strung up and embedded in the webs.
As the heroes stood amongst the bodies, movement below them, and amongst the bodies brought them to full alertness. Across the courtyard emerged the familiar figure of the drow captain "Do you like our garden?" he cackled, "Perhaps some of you could join it?"
On the stairs below the party emerged Grimlocks, and the more perceptive members could see Derro moving though the bodies....
Pointing at Iben, the captain shouted "Kill the Kindraeder, but you can keep the rest as slaves!" With this, battle was joined.
Lunging out of cover, taking advantage of surprise, Karl threw a cloud of shuriken at the approaching Derro. His grin of delight turned to dismay as the Derro quickly appeared next to him. Using their strange weapons and foul mind powers, Karl was left staggered and immobilised.
Aengus used the advantage of concealment to attack the drow captain, leaping out at him, and using his onyx dog for the first time in combat.
In a frenzy, Iben slashed at the Grimlocks approaching up the stairs, to little apparent effect. Sigurd unleashed her arcane powers, but the creatures seemed to shrug it off and continue up the stairs, catching the Wizard in melee combat.
Using the power of his cloak Hip Deep In Alligators, Karl retreated from the Derro to appear at Sigurds side. Engaging them with his sword, Karl had little more success than Iben and Sigurd.
Seeing the troubles his fellows were in, Aengus summoned a sygian blackness over the Grimlocks, giving the heres a moments relief, before he went on to harrass the drow.
Leaving the Grimlocks to Karl and Sigurd, Iben summoned forth the power of his ancestors, and charged the Derro, staggering them briefly. Similar to Karl though, Iben was entangled by the Derros strange weapons, and reeled from their psychic powers.
Desparately trying to put down some of the Grimlocks, and keep them in the blackness summoned by Aengus, Karl and Sigurd battled with the Grimlocks, but with blow after blow raining down on him, Karl finally succumbed and slumped to the ground.
With the situation looking bleak, Sigurd lashed out again with her thunderwave, thankfully catching one of the grimlocks and hurling it off the steps to its death. With a healing word from Thunder, Karl was able to regain his feet and slash at one of the Grimlocks, bringing it down. Aengus's spell had also slain one of the Grimlocks, bringing hope back to the heroes that they might survive.
Battling the drow, Aengus was pressing him hard, before with a slash of his sword, the drow destroyed the onyx dog. Still the drow, perhaps unfamiliar with not having his minions shield him, appeared to be slowly retreating.
Meanwhile, only his barbarian endurance was keeping Iben in the fight, as repeated blows and psychic blasts battered him. A well-timed haling from Thunder, and some assistance from Karl helped him begin to get the upper hand.
Seeing the way the battle was heading, the drow withdrew from combat, heading for one of the tunnels. "Not so fast!" shouted Sigurd, grabbing him with his Icy Grasp. Eager to press the advantage, Aengus pursued the drow, only to curse as he escaped his bonds, and sprinted down the tunnel.
Seeing the retreat of the drow, the remaining derro scattered, and disappeared into the gloom.
Victory! for the heroes. But only just.
__________________ el gobierno confiscará sus pollos
The group rested, recovering their strength after the difficult and draining battle against the Drow. It had become clear that they should consider this entire city to be a trap for them, a hostile place that would kill them or enslave them without a second thought. The area they were in was shrouded in darkness, but now they had time to explore Aengus discovered an ancient wall at the edge of his vision. Following it, he found three tunnels leading further into the city.
The three tunnels themselves looked superficially identical, but had different symbols on the floor in front of them. Each was egg-shaped, one filled in entirely with black stone, one with white and the middle symbol split half-and-half, vertically. Sending their magelights briefly down each tunnel showed Sigurd and Karl that the tunnels were about twenty feet wide and extended away into the darkness, with only the faintest glimmer of light to be seen, far in the distance.
Sigurd suddenly stiffened and stared down at the middle symbol, saying “There is powerful warding magic here. Please, no one attempt to cross and enter the tunnel. I’m not quite sure what would happen, but it wouldn’t be pleasant.” At her words, and as she strained her magical senses to learn more, tiny runes began to appear all around the edges of the tunnel. Studying them in concert, Aengus and Sigurd agree that they indicate that a surge of necrotic energy is likely to be the consequence of crossing the ward – something to be avoided.
Thunder turned to Aldis and Iben, both of whom were staying well back whilst the arcanists did their work. “It’s times like these,” he said in dry, metallic tones, “That I wished I had spent more time studying magic. Still, I have my own skills in battling those that use necrotic energy.” Twirling his sword in one hand, the Warforged concentrated for a moment, sending tiny trails of radiant energy tracing up and down it’s length.
Karl was beginning to grow bored. “So, which tunnel?” he asked impatiently. “That Drow we were fighting went down the solid black tunnel, but I’m not sure I particularly want to run into him again. I reckon if the Drow have put such an impressive set of wards on this tunnel it should be the one we pick – nothing like a challenge, eh Thunder?”
Noding, the Cleric concurred. “Kord teaches us that our destiny lies in our own hands only when we challenge ourselves and push hard against obstacles placed in our way. If the Drow have placed such a ward, then either they are protecting something, or they are afraid of something. If they are protecting it, then we can damage them by attacking it. If they are afraid, then we should seek to find out what they are afraid of to see if we can exploit it!”
Sigurd wasn’t so sure. “This ward is powerful and will be difficult to dispel. Any attempt runs the risk of hurting us and limiting our resources, and in this place we need all of our resources just to survive. I am not sure the possible reward justifies the risk. And Melora teaches me differently than Kord does you, Thunder.”
Aengus stepped in and settled the matter. “I believe that between us we can and will disarm this ward. Surely it is worth a try – after all, if it appears to be beyond us we can change our minds and stop? Are we agreed?” Looking around him, the Eladrin saw that he had swung the argument in his favour. “Excellent. Let us begin.”
The group set to work. Karl, pulling ever more complicated tools from his belt, began to try and interfere with the runes directly, scattering coloured sands over them, conjuring small lights and chipping away delicately at the edges of some of the stones. Simultaneously, Sigurd and Aengus began to push with their own arcane powers, seeing the twisted strands of the web of magic that enveloped the tunnel entrance and trying to burn or prize them away.
Thunder took a simpler attitude. Channeling the power of Kord, he stepped onto the ward itself and took the blow, enduring the pain and battling it with radiant power from within himself. Occupying the attention and focus of the trap, he sought to make sure the others were spared the backlash. Gritting his teeth against the necrotic energies surging through him, he managed to speak. “Quick as you like, please, quick as you like…”
Karl pulled a small magnet from his pocket, muttering quietly to himself. “Let’s try this, just here, with a spread of green ink… ahah!”
As if a tap had been closed, the ward shut down. Thunder staggered a step as the necrotic energy abruptly shut off, giving him nothing to fight against.
Bounding to his feet, the Gnome headed off down the square tunnel. “No time like the present, eh? Let’s get going before it resets itself!”
Note: This was an interesting little Skill Challenge, and we used a wide variety of skills to deal with it.
I'm hoping to include more dialogue and conversation between the characters in the next few updates, all comments welcome as to whether they're interesting or not!
The tunnel ahead was still lit up with the runes signaling the ward, but even as the companions move down it they are fading back into the stonework. After a few minutes Sigurd indicates that they have passed the warded area, but after another moment also confirms that the ward has reset itself behind them, blocking their retreat.
The group continue down the tunnel, their eyes scanning the darkness ahead as it is pushed back by their lights. Visibility is severely limited, and they are all aware that at any moment an enemy could strike at them. After about half an hour, a few spaces open up in the wall on one side like windows – but show nothing more than a black void. There is a faint breeze playing over everyone’s skin, and Aengus distantly catches the very faint sound of a small creature in the dark.
Seemingly endless, the tunnel continues through the rock, until it suddenly opens out on the left hand side to a series of stepped terraces. Only the first one or two were visible, but it seemed that there were more heading off down into the depths. Aldis breathed deeply and said that she could smell a faint metallic scent in the air, and that it didn’t smell quite right.
Thunder felt the same thing. “There is a storm coming,” he said. “A storm, underground? How can this be? There can be no clouds – there is no sky!”
Aengus responded, his face turned away from the Cleric. “There are caverns here big enough to have storms within them. When the roof is more than a mile over your head, you don’t need to worry about the sky.” His words silenced the group as they began to understand just how alien their surroundings were compared to surface life.
Just around the corner were a set of small rooms. Given their exertions against the Drow and the ward, not to mention the long walk since, it was decided to make camp to rest and recuperate. Sigurd brightened at the prospect, and explained that she had been studying an old book of magic for some time now and was pleased to have finally cracked the code on part of it. Working quickly, within ten minutes a complicated diagram occupied the main entrance to the room with Sigurd and Aengus safely inside it. Karl had secreted himself away in a small nook ten feet off the ground, with Thunder settling himself to watch a side tunnel.
As the group rested over the next few hours, each of them could occasionally hear a low rumbling which slowly got louder. Thunder, stood immobile in the Warforged equivalent of sleep, wondered if it was actually getting closer, like a very distant storm moving slowly in.
With a start, he felt something run across his foot. Glancing down, he spotted several small spiders on the floor, moving towards the back of the cave. A short yelp from Karl indicated that more spiders were occupying his attention, and then, in a near-silent rush, hundreds of spiders began to stream through the room towards the back wall. They spread along the floor like a carpet, coming up through holes, through the front entrance and the side tunnel, across the ceiling and all were going as fast as possible. Aengus, safe inside the ritual circle, looked out over the path and swore in Elven as something big and spidery seemed to be making it’s way over the tiered steps towards him.
There was a short and tension-laden pause as the flow of smaller spiders ceased. Then, with a chittering cry, a spider fully eight high with long, sharp, metallic mandibles scuttled down the side corridor and speared him through one shoulder. Crying out in pain and unable to get his shield in the way in time, the Warforged felt a burning pain spread through his limbs, weakening him.
At the sound of Thunder’s cry the rest of the companions moved quickly to help him. Aengus, cursing again the limits of his own vision, called upon his Fey powers to grant him the ability to see in the least light. Looking around, he could see that the giant spider attacking Thunder was almost fencing with him, using it’s long front legs and mandibles as swords. Looking out of the cave he beheld the vast distance between the Drow stalagmite-city and edge of the cavern. At least half a mile away, he could see rolling clouds below him that seemed to be moving closer, but nowhere in his vision could he see any additional spiders.
“Looks like it’s just the one!” he called back into the room. “Karl, you don’t need to worry about covering us, just get in there and kill it!”
“Gladly, my Lord!” responded the Gnome. As Thunder moved back into the room, managing to shrug off the worst of the poison’s effects, Karl leapt out of the nook and ran forwards. As he approached, he leapt again and tumbled forwards, rolling under a strike from the spider and slicing it across the abdomen. As he came back to his feet, however, the spider screamed and reared up on it’s back legs. Descending, both front sword-legs cut into Karl, wounding him grievously (1). Sigurd and Aengus both blasted at the spider with arcane powers, but it retreated a little down the tunnel and they hit nothing but rock.
Thunder had been studying his foe, seeing it’s reach and speed. Stepping forwards, he lunged in and cut into one leg, placing a Righteous Brand in place to aid Karl’s next attack. At the same time, he chanted a short prayer to Kord and healed some of the wounds that the Gnome had suffered. Taking advantage of the Brand, Karl hit with his sword again but with the poison working through his veins his strike was weak and did little damage.
Thunder and Karl exchanged a look and both backed into the main room, forcing the spider to follow them. It’s mandibles continued to lash at them, and in short order Thunder was hit again, more poison coursing through him. An Icy Ray from Sigurd froze the Spider in place for a moment as another Eldritch Spear from Aengus shattered rocks over it’s head. Using a Healing Strike, Thunder damaged the spider again, and Karl darted around the far side of it to cause it to divert it’s attention between both foes. Slashing at one hind leg, he severed it and the spider twitched and staggered, losing it’s balance and poise. As it tried to retreat, two blade strikes finished it off. As it collapsed to the floor, Thunder stepped up and hacked off it’s head.
Looking around him, he stated “Just to be sure.” Karl came over and Thunder checked his wounds, removing the poison and bandaging him up. At the same time, he prayed to Kord for healing and felt the punctures in his own body close up.
Aengus checked out of the front entrance again. The storm clouds had moved closer during the fight, but more worryingly a thin, light orange mist was rising up towards them. Long coils were expanding across the path ahead and behind the room the group were in, and Aengus realized that all the local wildlife had fled from this unnatural weather formation. Aengus spun back and warned the others that all of them needed to take cover.
Looking around, it was quickly realized that there was little cover to be had. The nook that Karl had hidden in was too small for anyone to share it with him, and there were no other exits from the room. The only option seemed to be a pit in the ground, around ten feet deep and about the same in length. After a very short discussion, consensus was reached that it was the only choice, and the party descended.
As Thunder jumped down into the pit, the floor gave way beneath him. Scrabbling at the walls, the Warforged disappeared in a cloud of dust as the others looked helplessly on.
Note: (1) Double critical! Big damage, plus of course the poison effect. Ouch.
This is by way of being a special bonus update, as I'm home and online on a Sunday. An additional update coming tomorrow, as usual!
Thunder’s weight, having proved too much for the pit floor, dropped him onto a hard stone surface. He managed to catch himself and get stable, staring quickly around him for an attack. None were forthcoming, and he looked up to see the others staring down at him.
“It’s not too far,” stated the Cleric. “Get yourselves down here – there’s a tunnel. We can escape that mist, although of course I’ve no idea what we’re heading in to.”
Sigurd spoke a single magical word and stepped off into space above him, floating gently down in a swirl of light. Aengus simply teleported into place, stepping through the space between as if crossing a path. Lacking such magical means of transportation, and being unwilling to follow Thunder’s somewhat abrupt movement, Iben, Aldis and Karl simply climbed down using ropes. In a short space of time, the group stood in a new corridor. One direction lead to what appeared to be a blank wall, but the other led away into the distance. After several hundred metres, it opened out into a larger room, dimly lit from an unknown source.
Karl and Aengus moved forwards to analyze the situation. As they reached the end of the tunnel, they could see that they were in a large room. On their level, the floor ended about twenty feet ahead of them, and dark water lay about five feet down. A short ramp led into the water from one side, with a further narrow spit of paving leading to a middle platform. Dotted around this level were several pillars, around five feet tall and apparently made of glass. Each was filled with a murky liquid that gave off a soft glow that illuminated the stones within about ten feet of it.
Looking higher, the two Fey could see that there were several chains hanging down from the ceiling, suspending several large cages in the air. Each cage, from what they could see, was filled with limbs. Hands, feet, legs, arms and a few torsos writhed and moved within the cages, seemingly unattached to each other. They were crammed in tightly, with no room for more than the slightest movement. One or two hands waved uselessly in the air outside the cages, as if trying to reach out for their freedom.
Right at the back of the room, higher up above the cages, was another, larger cylinder, again lit with the soft glow. It gently lit the surrounding area – another platform of stone. The room seemed empty and silent, save for the gentle lapping of the dark water against the stone, and an occasional creak from the chains holding up the cages.
Karl gestured the others forward carefully. A short whispered conversation ensured as to the best course of action, which was abruptly cut short at the sign of movement on the higher levels. Several dark-robed figures passed in front of the larger cylinder, and Karl suddenly realized there was a ladder on the left-hand side of the room leading down to their level. “Hide, everyone!” he said. “We can ambush them!” The Gnome darted off into the gloom, pressing up against one lit cylinder, with Aengus hot on his heels.
Thunder, Aldis and Iben remained in the corridor entrance, but Sigurd also moved forwards. Heedless of the smell, she slipped into the water via the ramp, leaving only her head visible. For a moment she wondered if anything else called the water home, but dismissed the thought from her mind.
As the dark figures made their way down the ladder, Karl pressed up against the cylinder, watching carefully around it as they descended. His attention focused elsewhere, he failed to notice the faint signs of motion and movement within the light source he was using as cover. Something moved within the liquid, coming into focus just over his head…
Note: Chalk up another one for crater - this room was geniunely unsettling as we went in. We had no idea what was coming next!
Karl’s attention was fixed on the robed and cowled figures descending the ladder to his left. The lit cylinder he was pressed up against had a strange glowing liquid within it, and from that liquid suddenly a single hand slammed up against the glass with an audible “Thunk!” His heart racing, the Gnome stared at the hand (which didn’t seem to be attached to anything else) as it slowly drifted back into the light. Glancing round, he saw that none of the others had noticed.
The cowled figures moved to the central platform, moving easily between the four cylinders that lit the area. Carefully unscrewing the top of one of them, they gently dropped something in, almost as though feeding it, before placing the lid back on and moving round. From their hiding places, the companions exchanged looks – what exactly was in these lit jars?
One of the cowled figures now moved towards the narrow causeway linking the central platform with the section of stone the companions stood on. Stiffening, he suddenly stared across the room at Karl as he tried to hide behind the pillar, and a keening wail split the air as the figure screamed out a warning. Pulling his hood back and drawing a rapier, he revealed his facial features for the first time. He may have once been a Drow, but now his skin was pulled back tightly over his bone structure, revealing sharpened teeth and pure-red eyes filled with hate and madness. It’s bare skull gleamed in the light. The other three figures did likewise, with two moving back towards the ladder a little and pulling out small hand-crossbows instead, whilst the other joined the screamer at the entrance to the platform.
“Guess we’ve blown our chance of surprising them, then,” muttered Karl under his breath. “Arse.”
Dashing forwards, drawing his weapon as he went, he dove and somersaulted, leaping into the air. His attack missed, however, as the hairless Drow dodged to one side, but with a vicious backswing Karl cut him deeply across the chest, drawing blood and getting a second scream out of the creature. Now he was closer, he could see that the skin all over the creature was stretched as tight as a drum-head over the bone. Flicking it’s blade high and then attacking from above, the creature fought back against the Gnome, but Karl’s eyes were the faster and he parried, feeling the impact jolt up his arm. Two more impacts follow as the other creatures shot at him with crossbows, the bolts slicing into his arms.
Looking up, Aengus could see more figures arriving upstairs, dressed the same and also drawing weapons. Seeking to minimize their ability to see, and hoping to cause some sort of magical explosion, the Warlock targeted one of the lit pillars on the central platform and smashed it with an Eldritch Spear, the green bolt impacting hard and shattering the glass. The liquid spilled across the floor, and from within the glass came tens of hands, squirming on the floor in a seething mass. Almost immediately they began to wriggle and move towards the party.
Emerging from her watery hiding place, Sigurd attempted to knock Karl’s opponent out of the way with a Spectral Ram spell, sending a bolt of force shooting across the room. Again, the figure dodged back from it, but as he did so he moved into the path of a bolt of radiant energy from Thunder, the Cleric of Kord having moved up as quickly as he could behind his friend. The radiant bolt had passed through Karl harmlessly, emboldening him as it went, and Karl grinned savagely as he continued to duel with his foe. Chopping smartly at his legs with his shortsword, he ditched the cloaked figure into the water where he swiftly sank from sight.
Distantly, a figure could be seen jumping down onto one of the cages, closing in on the melee beneath as Karl ran forwards into the central area. As he approached, the acolytes on the platform shot again, but this time they aimed at the cylinders, smashing another and releasing more of the scuttling hands. These hands crawled hideously over the phone, swarming all around Karl and pinning him in place as he fought to get clear of them. One leapt up on to his torso, clinging there and digging in with it fingers, trying to break through to the skin beneath his clothes.
“I have an idea,” shouted Aengus, and reached into a pocket. Drawing forth a crystal prism, he tossed it casually into the air before firing another Eldritch Blast through it. The bolt split into four, striking at the chains above another cage and shattering them. The cage dropped sharply, causing the acolytes to dive clear as it smashed a third pillar. The central area was growing dimmer and harder to see as the cage tilted on the edge and plunged into the water.
“We need the light, they don’t!” responded Sigurd, targeting another acolyte with her Icy Grasp spell. A large and frosty hand was conjured next to an acolyte, squeezing and freezing him in place. Simultaneously, Thunder pushed up next to Karl and hammered into the swarm of hands next to him with a powerful strike of his sword. On impact, an echoing blast of noise rolled through the room, setting the chains and cages swinging again and the hands were pushed backwards, dispersing with some flipped on to their backs. With an exultant cry, Thunder moved into the gap and made room for the others to follow him into the central area.
With a hideous wrenching sucking sound, like wet tubes being slapped together, an eruption of tentacles pressed down from an unseen source above the fight. Infused with a dark & twisting necrotic energy, they struck both Karl and Sigurd, wrapping briefly around them before disappearing back up into the darkness. Sigurd gasped in pain as the necrotic energy lingered, draining the energy of the combatants and leaving dark, injured trails of pain along their arms and torso.
Riding the pain, using it as a spur to carry on, Karl used the power of his cloak to teleport into combat with two more of the acolytes, one of whom had only just broken free of the icy hand that Sigurd had conjured. Striking out in a whirlwind of blows, he sliced into them.
“Surprise, motherers!” he yelled.
Note: Now, I know that ENWorld has some filters that will kick in on this post, but frankly I felt that la_bete's enthusiastic mode of speech whilst playing Karl (and to be fair, whilst not playing Karl) should be properly represented here.
Next time: The battle continues! Where did those tentacles come from, and when are they coming back?
Last edited by Mathew_Freeman; 20th May 2009 at 01:44 PM..
Reason: Added title
The two hairless Drow acolytes dropped their crossbows and tried to draw their swords as Karl appeared next to them. His blade tripped one, and he slashed into other – aided by it’s inability to dodge as well due to the large icy fist that was gripping it. Flipping back on to this feet, the Acolyte struck back at the Gnome, but despite attacking from both sides the wily Rogue was too quick for them, ducking and then leaping over both of their blades.
Thunder was not doing so well against the crawling claws that were attacking him. They had reformed into a single mass and scuttled up and over him, locking him in place. His strong Warforged skin meant he could resist most of their attacks, but as they climbed higher he began to wonder exactly what might happen if they reached his face and went for his eyes. Another group of claws was scuttling closer, moving up next to him as he battled away.
“I’ve had another idea!” called Aengus from behind him.
“I hope this idea doesn’t involve releasing any more of these things!” responded the Cleric.
“No – it’s a much better idea. Close your eyes for a second, though!”
Closing his eyes, Thunder heard a whoomph of noise in front of him, followed by a burning smell. Stepping back half a step from the heat, he opened his eyes and saw several burnt hands dropping off him. The stone in front of him was scorched and damaged, and Thunder glanced back over his shoulder to the Eladrin.
“I admit,” he said, plucking a smouldering claw off himself and spearing it with his sword, “That was a much better idea. What exactly was it?”
“Alchemical grenade!” said the Warlock cheerily. “Like magic, only with more fire! Many uses, but best against closely packed targets, you see.”
Seeing the immediate threat was now lessened, the Eladrin teleported over to the edge of the middle platform, looking for more targets. Thunder continued to battle against the remaining claws, but at a word from Sigurd he moved back a step to open a space for the Wizard to cast another spell. Crossbow bolts from distant acolytes bounced off the stone around her.
“Right,” said Sigurd determinedly, “Let’s kick this up a notch. Filthy Drow all deserve to die anyway, them and their creations, too.” In a blur of spellcasting motion, she threw an Icy Terrain spell into the middle of the platform, coating the area in ice and causing a magical wind to swirl through the area. The claws were caught and immbolised or destroyed outright, freezing in place. Secondly, with another swift gesture she tightened the Icy Grip she held over the acolyte near to Karl. The crunch of a snapping bone was audible across the room as he writhed in pain.
Lastly, and moving up closer to the central platform to do this (with a quiet “Thank you, Thunder,” as he moved out of the way) she unleashed a shimmering rainbow of magical power that played out from her hands. All of the rest of the claws and one of the acolytes were caught in the blast, the acolyte’s skin bubbling under the radiant power. He blinked stupidly as the light went out, standing dazed and staggered as the magical assault damaged his mind. The claws faired no better, being split into small sections and scattered again.
The spray of radiant light also lit up the rest of the room for a split second like a bolt of lightning, throwing stark shadows against the walls. The writhing figures in the cages froze in mute agony, and some more acolytes were revealed in the act of reloading crossbows further back in the room. Also revealed, standing on top of a large cage towards the back was another former Drow.
His appearance was, if possible, even more horrific than those of the Acolytes – his skin not only stretched but also deformed in places, sagging off his chin. He wore no robes on his torso, which was bulging and moving as if snakes were crawling about under it, and as the light washed across him he threw up an arm reflexively to protect his eyes. The gesture revealed a set of bony protrusions extending from his arms like knife blades.
As the darkness fell again, the room now lit only by the remaining cylinders, there was a retching sound and a huge gobbet of mucus came flying out of the darkness. Striking Sigurd, it adhered to her clothes like glue, and the Wizard cried out in pain as the necrotic energy within it drained her life-force. Attempting to call up her own powers of healing, Sigurd was stunned to find that they had no effect – her wounds remained open and bleeding
Note: Michael, playing Sigurd, did a great job in this round in clearing the various enemies that were in our way and acting like a true controller. And now with Arcane Power having come out, expect even better things from our Wizard!
The situation was growing increasingly bleak for the heroes. Whilst the threat of the Crawling Claws was all but ended, the increasing dimness of the room was making finding their targets increasingly difficult. The hideously deformed Drow up on the cages could see in the dark, as could the other Acolytes, and they continued to rain down crossbow bolts and magical attacks from the safety of the shadows.
Meanwhile, on the ground, Karl was still engaged in fighting a couple more Acolytes in hand-to-hand combat. Finally spotting an opening as one over-extended himself, he launched a nasty riposte that bit deeply into his opponents spine, almost slicing him in half. Kicking his sword free, Karl pushed the body into water with a splash, pulled out a sunrod and lit it, forcing back the darkness. Spying the ladder revealed clearly to him, he began making his way over there.
Sigurd, having shown forth her magical might, became a crossbow magnet as she was hit repeatedly by the cultists hiding in the upper reaches of the room. The final few claws also mustered a last attack, immobilizing her in place and letting her wounds run even clearer. Weakened already from the necrotic mucus attached to her, Sigurd saw the room start to spin around her and struggled to hold on to consciousness.
As Aengus tried his trick with the prism again, splitting his Eldritch Spears four ways to attack the chains of the cage that the monstrosity stood upon, Thunder called upon the power of Kord to aid his allies. Uttering first a Healing Word to close his own wounds, he then stepped up to the beleaguered Wizard and uttered another prayer, watching with satisfaction as her wounds closed.
“Kord is with you, Sigurd,” he said calmly, ignoring the continuing hail of crossbow bolts. “You are a brave fighter, never afraid to make yourself a target.”
“Melora is with me, also,” she reminded him. “Kord is not the only deity that should occupy our attention.” Grinning, she moved away, her hands already moulding the next spell to be cast. Triggering it, she blasted another group of Claws off the side of the platform with a Thunderwave, the noise of the spell rising above the clash of blades.
Thunder had taken his attention to the deformed Drow up on the cage. Lacking ranged capabilities, the Cleric simply moved towards the ladder, but before he could get far the figure jumped back and away from him, ending up near to the large cylinder on the upper level. There was a half-second pause as he gathered himself, and then he once more erupted in tentacles that struck out across the whole group. Karl, this time, managed to dodge clear as they lashed down, and Aengus was shielded behind a cage, but Thunder caught the full brunt of the attack. Several tentacles slapped at him, spinning him around in place and draining his energy again. Metal creaked as they grabbed hold and attempted to pull him apart. Sigurd too took another blow.
A sound of distant laughter echoed from above as the tentacles withdrew, and the other acolytes took heart, firing again with their crossbows. However, as Sigurd’s reserves of strength began to drop, the magical properties of her armour activated. The robes she now wore were made of Bloodthread, a powerful magical substance. As the blood from her wounds seeped into it, it hardened and increased it’s protection. The incoming crossbow bolts were deflected away or failed to penetrate it.
Seeing this, Thunder pressed the attack. He stepped up, using another magical shot from Aengus as cover, and brought down the final Acolyte with a spearing sword strike. Sigurd’s Icy Hand had been slowly draining him of his strength, and he became easy prey for the Warforged’s sword. Shrugging off the necrotic effect from the tentacles, Thunder pushed up further, followed by Aengus’ teleport as his Fey Pact power activated.
“Melora, grant me your aid,” whispered Sigurd to herself, healing her own wounds before launching an acid arrow at the laughing figure above her. It crashed home, splashing acid around him and sizzling as it began to eat away at his skin. Howling in pain, he vomited up another gob of mucus but this one went wide of it’s target to sizzle in return amongst the lower platform. Seeing his attack miss, the figure retreated into the darkness on the top level.
With the way now clear, Karl began to climb the ladder to the higher level, seeking to end the fight and sheathe his sword in his enemy’s blood. Aengus, looking to follow him, blasted at the last few Claws as they attempted to follow the Gnome, before another Thunderwave from Sigurd blasted them into smithereens. Thunder, slinging his shield on his back for a moment, joined Karl on the ladder, his weight causing it to creak with his weight. As the light of Karl’s sunrod began to beat back the darkness at the top of the ladder, they could see the figure clutching at his chest where the acid still burned him. The figure took a small flask from his belt and poured it over himself, and it fizzed away the acid.
“He’s an alchemist of sorts,” noted Karl from the top of the ladder. “Guess he’s been working on himself, somewhat…”
“He’s an abomination,” replied Thunder, reaching the top and pushing past the Gnome. “I’ll get him.” Charging forwards, the Cleric sliced at the figure, but the Alchemist dodged aside and raked him with his claws. Feeling more necrotic energy seeping into him, Thunder stepped back and tried to gather his wits. This opened a space for Karl to charge in with a malicious grin, drawing an attack from the Alchemist which he dodged easily before striking back. Slicing up into vulnerable tissue, Karl attempted to impair his foe’s fighting prowess but to no avail as his attack was deflected away.
As the battle raged on the upper level, Sigurd knew she had to do something about the Acolytes still sniping at her. Gathering her clothes, she began to rise into the air under a Levitate spell, casting her magelight forwards for better visibility. The final acolyte left alive found himself drawing level, eye-to-eye with the Wizard as she shaped another spell to attack him with.
Aengus had been following Thunder and Karl up the ladder, offering his support. As he reached the top, he saw a gap between the three figures and took a shot, catching the Alchemist with another Eldritch Spear in one leg. As the Drow staggered back from the attack, Thunder lit up his own weapon with radiant power and powered it forwards, smashing into the Alchemist with an Avenging Flame attack. Fire flickered across the Drow’s body, searing into him as he moved around and clawed at the Warforged again.
However, in his keenness to try and kill the Warforged who had set him on fire, the Alchemist had forgotten about Karl. With a sudden sidestep and swift blow, the Gnome up-ended the Drow off the side of the ledge, sending him falling thirty feet to the water below. Even as his tentacles erupted again, seeking something to latch on to and save him, he splashed into the water and sank, dead.
“So, then,” said Sigurd on the other side of room as she crackled with magical power from her mid-air position. “Do you really wish to continue this battle?”
The last remaining acolyte looked at her and fled into a side tunnel.
Note: Forgive the title, it got into my head and wouldn't leave.
This turned out to be one hell of a battle, with the alchemist battering us from above whilst we tried to deal with the claws and other acolytes. Kudos to crater for sorting it all out and thinking it up!
After the battle in Glorium against the dead kings, I'd mentioned that being harrassed by infantry at the same time would have made the fight even more interesting. I think this idea was taken on board for this encounter, and it showed up what a good encounter can be.
Next time: We discover a prisoner, or is she better described as a victim?
After the fleeing acolyte’s footsteps faded away down the tunnel, the companions gathered themselves at the top platform. Drawing nearer to the largest cylinder, the could see that it, too, had more of the disembodied hands within it, swimming about. Glad that it had never been broken, despite the splash from Sigurd’s Acid Arrow spell damaging the exterior, they resolved to stay clear of it for now.
A further exploration of the area revealed other horrors, however. All around were implements of sadistic design – saws, hooks, blades, needles and other bits of metal in peculiar twisted shapes. Many were still caked in what ted shapes. Many were still caked in what might been fresh blood, or some other substance. Karl was briefly tempted to take a particularly nasty looking dagger as a new weapon, but the thought of it’s previous use was too much for him to bear.
Iben , who had been last up the ladder, moved slowly around the room. He quivered with rage at the obscene and horrific acts that were indicated by the various tables and benches throughout the room. Many tables had thick leather straps hanging loosely from them, and on the wall a set of short chains and manacles indicated that not all of the victims were laid down before the torture began.
Aengus, with his enhanced vision compared to the others and quicker speed, had ranged further into the room. An oath sounded from him as he called Thunder forwards.
“Get over here, now! There’s another Drow on this table, and she’s still alive! Move!” Hurrying forwards, the Warforged moved up to see for himself. He found Aengus undoing a series of straps that had bound a Drow woman to a table. Her skin was stretched in places, and there were several scars along her arms and a couple on her face. Checking her body, the Warforged noted analytically that her breathing was shallow and ragged, and that her life-force was weak. He began to help as best he could.
After a few minutes of attention, the unconscious woman began to come around. Seeing the metal face above her she shrank back in fear, so Thunder stepped back calmly and allowed the more personable Aengus to speak to her in the Elven tongue. Hearing his voice she began to babble and whimper back to him, and although he did his best to calm and soothe her she still shouted and ranted. Eventually admitting defeat, he called Thunder forwards again who administered a simple sleeping draught – a trick he had learned as part of his training as a Healer. She slumped back on to the table, her head gently lowered by the Eladrin.
“What was all that about?” queried Sigurd. “I don’t speak Elven, but she sounded very agitated. Did you manage to get anything useful out of her?”
Taking a deep breath and pushing his hair back, Aengus, for the first time in the weeks that they had been together, looked rattled. “Her name, as far as I can gather, is Purpura. She is, or was, a slave to House Infanti, a Drow noble family. I don’t know anything further about them, unfortunately. Although the Drow and the Eladrin share a language, the use of words is sometimes very different. She kept speaking of stairs, a garden, and flowers. She repeated those things over and over again – wouldn’t talk of anything else.” He looked around, the disgust at what he saw evident on his face.
“I think she was being modified, changing somehow. The Drow like to work on their slaves, see if they can make them better. The process is known as Fleshwarping, and you saw some of the results in those acolytes we fought just now, and their leader, the Alchemist. He’s clearly been working on himself for some time – thinking about it, I believe those tentacles he attacked with may actually have been his intestines.”
Iben, still a Kindraeder at heart and not used to this kind of depravity, turned a mild shade of green at the thought. Aldis had already moved away from the bench to kneel and pray for those killed.
Continuing, Aengus said “I think I can bring her back, if I can study what’s been done to her and try and reverse it. Thunder, if you’d be willing to help I think we can save her life?”
Before Thunder could open his mouth Sigurd spoke harshly, saying “She’s a filthy Drow slave! Why are we wasting her time on her? We are, in case you’d forgotten, in the middle of a Drow city with no known way out and enemies on all sides, and you’re willing to put everything on hold so that you can play doctor with this woman?”
Karl threw Thunder a look that said I’m keeping well out of this, and the Gnome slipped away to check the area in case of attack. Iben joined him.
Putting some diplomatic notes into the conversation, Thunder considered his words and spoke. “We have the facilities here to help her. We can carry her with little effort, as she is weak and light in weight. I care for the survival of all living things, and if she was a slave she can hardly be blamed for the actions of her owners. Let us make a stretcher and carry her with us, if we can.”
His calm voice prevailed, and a stretcher was constructed for the woman. As it was completed, Karl’s voice came back from the edge of the room.
“Hey everyone, I think I’ve found that staircase she was talking about.”
Note: An interesting little discussion round the table over this matter, that played out pretty much in-character. Martin, playing Aengus, was dead set on rescuing this Drow woman and Michael, playing Sigurd was set against it.
Sigurd, you'll note, has been slowly becoming much more aggressive than she was at the start of the campaign, and much nastier. Wonder how far it'll go?
With the Drow woman safely strapped into a stretcher, the rest of the group hurried over to join Karl at the edge of the room. He had found a narrow staircase that descended out of sight, without lighting.
“Any objections to me going first, nope, excellent, follow on then!” called Karl as they approached. The Gnome headed off down the stairs confidently but quietly. Keeping about ten feet further back, the rest followed.
Noticing Aengus was absently rubbing a metal ring that he wore, Sigurd asked him if he was feeling alright.
“Yes, mostly,” he replied as they continued down the stairs. “This ring – it is enchanted to help me find my father, whom I believe may be down here somewhere. Ever since we arrived I’ve felt as though I am getting closer to him, closer to what he was trying to do. It’s not a precise magic, in that I don’t get an idea of which direction he lies, but it’s more of a feeling. The feeling that I am getting, however, is that I’m on the right track. Fingers crossed, as you humans say.”
Ahead, Karl held his hand up for silence. The stairs ended in a doorway, leading to a larger room. Seeing no immediate danger, Karl waved the others in. As they entered, they could see that this room appeared to be some sort of stables, but instead in horses the various pens held large lizards, each with barding and saddles strapped to them. They were chained securely in place, but as the companions entered they stirred a little, perhaps expecting food or water. In the dim light of Sigurd’s magic, the party stayed carefully away from them.
Karl suddenly swore. Coming into view at the far end of the room was an armoured figure, slim of build. “Another bloody Drow,” muttered the Gnome under his breath. “Should have spotted him earlier.”
Moving forwards, as there was no point in pretending stealth given their light source, the party passed a large window space on their right, opposite the pens. Glancing out, Iben saw that the blackness was absolute – nothing was visible. Clutching his greataxe for comfort, a familiar object in this strange underground world, he kept pace with the others.
The Drow warrior wore fine armour, well-maintained. At his hip hung both a rapier and a small crossbow, together with a couple of daggers in obvious sheathes. As the group approached him, he surprisingly turned away and opened the door ahead of them, passing through and beckoning them on. The next room was a small antechamber, bare of furniture, and the warrior unlocked the other door with a small key and passed through.
“Be welcome to this place,” he said in the common tongue, his accent thick but understandable. “You are expected. Please make yourselves comfortable whilst I bring the others.” Exchanging wary looks, the rest of the group passed through the door after him.
The next room was a large courtyard area, extending around sixty or seventy feet on each side. Several chipped and worn pillars disappeared up into the darkness overhead, the light from the group not enough to penetrate it all the way to the ceiling. Around the edges of the room there were several growths of vegetation – trailing creepers of flowers that extended up the walls and grew out over the floor as if reaching towards the centre. Aengus recognized them as nightshade plants, and Iben added in that they represented the souls of the dead.
In the centre of the room stood several finely carved stone chairs and tables in a rough circle, surrounding a depressed area of floor. This depression was not constructed of stone, like the rest of the floor, but instead a latticework of thin metal strips acted as a grid between which some sort of transparent glass-like structure hung in sheets. It was clearly an ornate concave window of some kind, although looking through, nothing more than darkness could be seen.
Aengus spoke aloud as the Drow Warrior disappeared through a far door. “I wonder if that is some sort of viewing gallery?” he wondered, moving around the room to examine the various chairs and tables. On several of the tables stood a hookah, fine glasswork and tubing with several thin pipes extending out of it so that those sat could inhale the smoke within. A small light sat at the top, glowing dimly.
“I guess we had best take a seat,” said Thunder. “But stay wary, all of you. This may, of course, be yet another trap for us.”
“At least this trap comes with seats!” responded Sigurd. “Filthy Drow have at least given us a place to rest for a while.”
The group arranged themselves around the room and waited in the dim light.
Note: Not what we were expecting! Cordiality and politeness - we were very much on edge waiting to see what would happen next.
Sitting in a room, with the only light coming from Sigurd’s spell, it has hard to see across the circle of chairs and tables. Falling silent, the group simply waited to see what would happen next.
There was the faintest whisper of movement on the far side of the room, and each member of the group suddenly became aware that a Drow woman was now sat across from them, at the edge of their light. She gave the tiniest acknowledgement of their presence, but apart from she was a study in indifference.
Continuing in silence, other Drow entered the room from the many entrances, taking their seats around the circle. Aengus attempted to strike up conversation with a younger woman sat near to him, but in response she merely arched an eyebrow and remarked “Aren’t you the spawn of Gastris?”
Not knowing how to answer this question, Aengus once more fell silent. Across the circle, one of the other hookahs was drawn upon, faintly illuminating the face of an elderly Drow woman as she sipped on a pipe. Looking back across the room, Thunder was surprised to see that he was now joined at his table by another armoured Drow. This one seemed older, his armour finer and more ornamental. Thunder could see that his face looked particularly cruel, even amongst the standards of Drow.
On the other side of the circle, nearer to Aengus and Karl, another older Drow woman was sat. Her face bore that same tightness they had seen amongst the acolytes and the Alchemist – marks that she had been Fleshwarped. Iben had to turn away from her to avoid shuddering at it, and as he did so he heard a faint squeaking noise, as if something metal was being wheeled in.
Looking around the circle in the near darkness it appeared that many figures had entered and taken seats, or reclined across chaise-longes’. Once all of these Drow had arrived and taken their places, all in the most eerie silence, a final figure entered.
Once all were in their places, waiting in the most eerie silence, a final figure entered through the door. Taller than the others, he moved with a sinuous grace. Although he wore several weapons upon his person, including a matched pair of crossbows of extremely high quality, and his armour had a fine baroque artifice to it, all of the companions noted that his hands ended in long talons. These looked to be far more dangerous weapons, as did his filed and pointed teeth that were exposed by his wide mouth.
“My friends!” he announced in a clear and pleasant voice that all the more jarring compared to the mouth that uttered it. “I am so pleased that you have all arrived, I thank the Stars Below. When word reached me that you were on your way, I must confess I was worried. Our city is not always, how can I say, accommodating to visitors and I am glad that you have made it to this meeting. Please, eat, drink.”
A number of Drow stepped forwards out of the shadows with trays, bottles and glasses, giving out food and drink to all assembled. Unlike the other Drow, who calmly took the offered items, none of the companions requested anything. Instead, Aengus introduced them – Sigurd of Concordance; Karl of the Instrumentality; the Herald, Iben of Kindraed; The Promise of Distant Thunder, Last of the Legion That Waits; and himself, Aengus. When he spoke his own name there was a small reaction amongst the assembled Drow.
Next to Thunder, the old warrior simply turned slightly and said “How exciting.” His voice was flat and without emotion.
From the far side of the circle came a voice, petulantly saying “But isn’t that a bit of an Eladrin name? We must get you a real name as soon as possible.”
Speaking again, the tall Drow said “And I must introduce us in turn. I am your Uncle, Aengus, and my name is Enteritus. Gathered here are your Great-Uncle, Encephylitus, commander of our Drow forces and swordsman beyond equal in this city; your Grandmother, Rubella; in the chair is your Great-Grandmother, the ever youthful and beautiful Ebola; next to her are your cousins, Distonia and Malaria; and finally your niece Roseola.”
Some of the other Drow shared Aengus’ lighter skin, marking them, like him, as half-Drow, half-Eladrin. Apparently Aengus was not as unique as he had thought. Following this thought, he asked the circle, seeking information. “I had no idea that interbreeding was so often done amongst Drow and Eladrin,” he said. “But I see no full Eladrin amongst you – where are they?”
“Foolish boy,” responded Great-Grandmother Ebola. “All Eladrin are slaves down here, you must know that.”
“It is no crime to mate with your Eladrin slaves,” continued Enteritis, “Why, we are a most liberal and accepting society, I think you will find.”
“Enteritus,” asked Roseola, sprawled in a chair to Aengus’ left. “Why exactly are we here?”
“You are all here,” announced Enteritus, spreading his hands wide and pointing at each member of the gathering in turn, “Because I have some wonderful news!” The twisted form of the fleshwarped Drow grow almost animated in excitement. “Why, only this morning I discovered that I had been poisoned.”
“How exciting,” said the Drow General, sitting next to Thunder again, this time with a note of genuine enthusiasm in his cold voice.
Note: This Drow general was genuinely getting on my nerves - no roleplaying required!
Enteritis continued to speak, staring intently at each of the Drow and Half-Drow in the gathering as he did so.
“Yes, my family, I have been poisoned!” Uncle Enteritis paused for dramatic effect.
“Have you not taken all your daily antidotes?” scolded a particularly stern Aunt Chlamidia
“Indeed, I have not been remiss insofaras my standard range of cures and antidotes is concerned, but, as i’m sure at least one amongst you may well know, there is NO cure for the particular poison which I have been careless enough to expose myself to.”
“Whatever could it be?” mused the other Infanti’s, innocently.
“Purple Dragon Bile.” stated the sinister fleshwarped figure, now beginning to pace slowly and purposefully around the outside of the circle of chairs and chaise-longes, passing with studied intent behind each member of his, and Aengus’, extended family.
There were mutual nods of admiration amongst the gathering.
“How exciting.” noted Great Uncle Encephylitus, once more.
“Secondly, I can’t help but incline towards the suspicion that someone in this room is responsible for my assassination.” continued Uncle Enteritis, to stiffled gasps of disbelief. “Purple Dragon Bile, being a relatively fast-acting poison, leaves me with perhaps several minutes of life remaining. Time, I fear, is against me my brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, and as such I have decided, in the spirit of fairness...” he paused once more. There was a faintly discernible restlessness within the chamber.
”...to have you ALL killed.”
An uncomfortable moment of silence followed. In that moment the party studied the faces of the Infanti family. Each ones eyes darted around the circle, searching, scrutinising one another’s almost expressionless and passionless faces. Body language suggested a growing restlessness that not even the guarded reserve of the Drow nobility could conceal.
“How exciting.” The tone of voice was at this point slightly more tentative, although he did a muscle move on his face. Thunder found himself fighting an increasingly overpowering urge to attack this Drow commander.
“I have coated every surface in this room with Svirfneblin Dark Blood,” announced Enteritis. This caused a much greater stir. “It is a fatal contact poison, and I am afraid that by merely entering the room you have all come into contact with it. It is fatal, of course, but somewhat slower acting, and whats more, there is a cure.”
Sigurd whispered across to Aengus, “Any ideas?”
“No!” he muttered back. “But I do know that you need an awful lot of svirfneblin to make a very small amount of poison. And if he’s made enough to coat every surface in this room…”
On Thunder’s left, another of the Drow was saying quietly to herself “I did wonder where all my slaves went, but this is more than I expected…”
Enteritis had been moving around the edge of the circle, and now he came to a final halt just behind the Drow commander. “The cure is, for those in the know, gnome blood.”
“How exciting.”
Everyone in the room looked at where Karl had been sat, only to discover that he appeared to have vanished. Aengus distantly heard a voice, apparently coming from under a nearby table, muttering determinedly to itself “Ain’t no Drow motherer going to take MY blood, dammit!”
Settling himself, Enteritis issued his final announcement. “Oh! There was one other thing, I almost completely forgot! I have also finished my novel! I do hope that at least one of you survives to read it.”
“How – “ But the Drow commander’s utterance was cut short as Enteritis put a crossbow bolt through the back of his head. Slamming forwards from the impact, the now-dead Drow was pinned to the table by the bolt, whilst his body slipped quietly off the chair to hang there.
Grabbing weapons, the companions surged to their feet. All around them, the lightning quick Drow had risen too, and the silence was broken with several war cries and the beginnings of incantations.
Note: I'd been waiting for this to happen! My only regret was not being able to take out that Drow commander myself.
Next time: The battle! Keep an eye out for all the crazy powers crater dreamt up for his Drow!
Linear Mode
And yet another word from our sponsors
